crossroads*** copyright (c) 2002, 2009 by lidija rangelovska. please see the rich text file (rtf) for the content of this ebook. the unspeakable turk. * * * * * [illustration: the status quo. turkey. "will you not still befriend me?" britannia. "befriend you?--not with your hands of _that colour_!" _september 9, 1876._] england indignantly protests against the atrocities committed by the turk in bulgaria. * * * * * "punch" office, 10 bouverie street, london, e.c. * * * * * [illustration: one bubble more!! _january 6, 1877._] the turk, once again, makes illusory promises of reform. * * * * * [illustration: everybody's friend! _march 2, 1878._] during the russo-turkish war a strict neutrality is preserved by germany. she is now the "friend" of the turk. * * * * * [illustration: the sublime "super"! (rehearsal of grand military drama.) stage manager. "what are _you_ to do, sir? why, get well to the back, and--_wave your banner_!!!" _september 16, 1882._] the turk makes a great show of denouncing the revolt of arabi in egypt. he is not taken very seriously. * * * * * [illustration: cooped up! _october 26, 1889._] the powers, despite the protests of greece, leave it to the turk to restore order in the island of crete. * * * * * [illustration: "deeds--not words!" john bull. "look here,--we've had enough of your palaver! are you going to let the girl go, or have we got to make you?" _june 15, 1895._] the barbarous treatment of armenia by the turk compels the intervention of england, france and russia. * * * * * [illustration: a free hand. the unspeakable turk. "ha, ha. there's no one about! i can get to business again."] _january 18, 1896._] while england is absorbed elsewhere the turk takes the opportunity to commit further outrages in armenia. * * * * * [illustration: a turkish bath. sultan. "they gave it me pretty hot in that armenian room! but--bismillah! this is----phew!!"] _august 22, 1896._] a very "sick man" is the turk. he goes from bad to worse. * * * * * [illustration: "turkey limited." sultan. "make me into a limited company? h'm--ah--s'pose they'll allow me to join the board after allotment!" _november 28, 1896._] the powers consider the advisability of placing the turk "under control." * * * * * [illustration: tender mercies! dame europa (_to_ little crete). "don't cry, my little man. i've asked this nice, kind turkish policeman to stay and take care of you!" _march 13, 1897._] the turk is given another chance to mend his ways. * * * * * [illustration: the slave of duty! admiral john bull. "now then, out you'll have to go!" the unspeakable. "what! leave my beautiful crete in a state of disorder? _never!_" _september 24, 1898._] the incorrigible turk is deprived of his power to misrule in crete. he is consoled by germany. * * * * * [illustration: the mitylene march. (solo for the french horn.) the sultan. "i don't like solos! give me the good old-fashioned european concerto!" _november 13, 1901._] france sends a fleet to mitylene and compels the turk to respect the rights of certain french subjects. * * * * * [illustration: between russia and the deep sea. _september 9, 1903._] trouble again confronts the turk. macedonia, weary of his oppression, rises in revolt. russia keeps an eye upon him. * * * * * [illustration: the optimist. abdul hamid. "what, all the fleets coming here? that _will_ be fun! i _do_ hope they'll have fireworks!" _november 22, 1905._] the powers decide on a naval demonstration to compel the turk to settle the macedonian difficulty. * * * * * [illustration: out of bounds. john bull. "shoo! shoo!" _may 9, 1906._] the turk tries to grab a bit of egypt, but his bluster is unsuccessful. under pressure he retires, as usual. * * * * * [illustration: the throne perilous. _july 29, 1908._] the condition of the turk is very critical. internal disorders indicate a serious danger of collapse. * * * * * [illustration: the salt-water cure. shah of persia. "go on in, abdul--just for the look of the thing. you can always come out if you don't like it." sick man of europe. "yes, i know. but one gets so wet!" _august 12, 1908._] the turk makes another specious effort to amend his constitution. * * * * * [illustration: at last! _november 27, 1912._] the liberation of macedonia from the tyranny of the turk is, at last, accomplished. * * * * * [illustration: armageddon: a diversion. turkey. "good! if only all those other christian nations get at one another's throats, i may have a dog's chance yet." _december 4, 1912._] the turk still has a gleam of hope. * * * * * [illustration: no effects. balkan leaguer. "it's your money we want." turkey. "money, dear boy? search me!" _march 26, 1913._] the ever impecunious turk. * * * * * [illustration: settled. dame europa. "you've always been the most troublesome boy in the school. now go and consolidate yourself." turkey. "please, ma'am, what does that mean?" dame europa. "it means going into that corner--and stopping there!" _april 2, 1913._] the turk is driven to confine his energies to asia minor. * * * * * [illustration: "deutschland ueber alles." king of the hellenes. "our success was, as you know, entirely due to you." german emperor. "thanks, thanks." (_aside_) "i suppose he can't be referring to our organisation of the _turkish_ army." _september 17, 1913._] the decisive defeat of the turk by the greeks and their allies is a bitter blow to germany. * * * * * [illustration: another peace conference. turkey (_to greece_). "aha! my young friend, alone at last! now we can arrange a really nice treaty." _october 8, 1913._] the turk makes a desperate effort to get greece into a quiet corner. * * * * * [illustration: his master's voice. the kaiser (_to turkey, reassuringly_). "leave everything to me. all you've got to do is to explode." turkey. "yes, i quite see that. but where shall _i_ be when it's all over?" _november 11, 1914._] there is, indeed, no health in the turk. * * * * * --------------------------------------------------- transcriber's note: words in bold typeface are surrounded by plus signs. --------------------------------------------------- supplement to commerce reports daily consular and trade reports issued by the bureau of foreign and domestic commerce department of commerce, washington, d. c. annual series no. 18a march 15, 1915 +turkey,+ +harput.+ +by consul leslie a. davis.+ the limited trade of the harput consular district has almost entirely ceased since the outbreak of the european war. under normal conditions the trade is small and confined to the merest necessaries of life. stoves, bedsteads, dining tables, table linen, individual tableware, and many other articles usually regarded as indispensable in domestic life are not to be found even in the homes of the better classes. +limited business opportunities--population.+ there are no manufacturing establishments or industrial enterprises of any importance and no business houses of any size in the entire district. the only stores are small shops or booths of one room, seldom more than 10 or 15 feet square and usually even smaller than that. the business of any one merchant is necessarily small, and the quantity of goods that he can handle limited. the goods are usually obtained by him through business connections in constantinople or aleppo. the district is essentially agricultural, and the products of the soil supply nearly all the needs of its inhabitants. the vilayet of mamouret-ul-aziz, in which harput is situated, is said to contain about 500,000 inhabitants, of whom 250,000 reside in the sandjak of mamouret-ul-aziz, 180,000 in the sandjak of malatia, and 70,000 in the sandjak of dersim. of the total number, about 90,000 are christians and the remainder mohammedans. there are nearly 3,000 villages in the vilayet but no large cities. in addition to the vilayet of mamouret-ul-aziz, four other vilayets depend on this consulate--sivas, diarbekir, bitlis, and van. this comprises the greater part of the interior of asia minor, a region as large as all new england and new york combined, with a total population of about 3,000,000. +lack of transportation and other facilities--trade routes.+ there are no railroads, tramways, electric light or gas plants, public telephones, places of amusement, automobiles, or newspapers in the entire district. the lack of means of transportation is the greatest hindrance to the development of the country. there are not even any navigable rivers in the district. the distance to any seaport is 200 to 400 miles, and all goods have to be brought here over extremely rough, mountainous roads, which are never kept in repair. in times of peace some goods are transported in crude carts, but at all times the greater part is carried on the backs of camels or donkeys. transportation is thus always a matter of many weeks and often of months, especially in the winter, when the roads are frequently blocked by snow for two or three months. the principal trade route in the district begins at samsun on the black sea and runs southeast to bagdad, passing through sivas, harput, and diarbekir. goods destined for this vilayet usually come via samsun, which is about 372 miles from harput. this port being inaccessible at the present time, the few articles that come here are brought overland from constantinople via angora and sivas or by mule trail from alexandretta. little merchandise has been received during the last few months. freight rates are, of course, extremely high at all times, being many times greater than the rate from the country of export to the port of arrival in turkey and often amounting to much more than the original cost of the goods. this region can never make much progress commercially until transportation conditions are remedied by the building of railroads, and this is not likely to be done except with foreign capital and assistance. +housing conditions--military exoneration tax.+ owing to the lack of building stone and almost total lack of wood of any kind in this part of turkey, all houses in both town and country are built of mud bricks called "kerpitch," which is a mixture of mud and straw. the houses are not large and part of them is always used for the stable, one or two rooms only being reserved for the use of the family, which lives in the simplest and most primitive manner. every one sleeps rolled up in a blanket on the earth floor. the only fuel used by the majority of the population is manure dried in the sun. among people accustomed to this manner of living it can not be expected that there will be much market for foreign goods. the lot of the people is made worse by uncertain economic conditions and recent political unrest. the exoneration tax of 43 turkish pounds gold ($189.20) levied on those who have been excused from military service in the present war represents the life savings of the majority of the people who have paid it. yet a certain amount of progress is to be noted. many of the inhabitants have been to the united states. they have naturally brought back some new ideas, and as a result there is a slowly growing demand for certain articles. most conspicuous is the increase in the sale of cheap ready-made and second-hand clothing. a large portion of these goods now comes from the united states. the total imports in 1914 amounted to about $25,000, as compared with $6,500 in the previous year. there is also a slight demand for metal roofing, the imports of which amounted to $8,800 in 1914, as compared with $750 in 1913. +business situation during the early part of last year.+ trade in this district was not especially good at the beginning of 1914. it is allways dull in the interior of turkey during the winter months. the depression was greater than usual, however, as the country had not recovered financially from its two recent wars. after the french loan was negotiated and the first payment received the prospects were brighter. concessions were granted in connection with this loan for the construction of a railroad between samsun, on the black sea coast, and various points in the interior of asia minor, and work was actually begun at samsun. as much of the region between samsun and harput is very fertile and at the present time it is impossible to export the crops because of lack of means of transportation to the coast, the people were looking forward to a new era. the telegraph and mail services had already been greatly improved. during the spring and early summer there was much building activity at harput and many new houses were in process of erection. in july the streets here were publicly lighted for the first time. at sivas plans were made to establish an electric-light plant. crops everywhere were unusually good and after the trade depression of the first half of the year a revival of business was anticipated for the autumn. the building activity resulted in an increased demand for some building materials. shopkeepers and merchants were on their way to constantinople to replenish their stocks, when suddenly a general mobilization of the turkish army was declared. trade ceased, as many merchants and tradesmen had to join the army. harvesting was left largely to the women and children and a considerable portion of the crops was lost. grain, animals, and goods of all kinds were requisitioned by the government. money was withdrawn from circulation and the banks refused to make payments. +large decrease in import trade.+ the import and export trade of this region in 1914 was therefore practically limited to the first seven months of the year. the imports, however, during that period were greater than usual, due largely to the fact that this city has recently been made the headquarters of an army corps and increased business was anticipated. the total value of the imports in 1914 was $1,525,720, as compared with $2,194,450 in 1913. of the imports in 1914, goods from abroad amounted to $1,038,660 and goods from other parts of turkey to $487,060. the values of the principal imports from foreign countries into the vilayet of mamouret-ul-aziz for 1913 and 1914 and the principal countries of origin for 1914 are shown in the following table (united states, u. s.; austria, aus.; belgium, bel.; france, fr.; germany, ger.; greece, gr.; italy, it.; netherlands, neth.; russia, rus.; sweden, sw.; switzerland, switz.; united kingdom, u. k.): --------------------+---------+---------+----------------------------------- articles. | 1913 | 1914 | countries of origin, 1914. --------------------+---------+---------+----------------------------------- arms and ammunition | $4.000 | $1,000 | bel., u. s., ger., fr., aus. books | 1,800 | 1,100 | fr., u. k., u. s., ger. candles | 3,500 | 3,000 | aus., ger., fr. chemicals, dyes, | | | etc.: | | | alizarin, anilin, | | | and artificial | | | indigo | 18,000 | 5,000 | ger., aus. indigo | 1,200 | 3,500 | india. clocks and watches | 4,000 | 3,000 | aus., ger., fr., switz., u. s. clothing | 6,500 | 25,000 | u. s., fr. coffee | 9,000 | 3,500 | brazil, arabia copper, sheet | 10,000 | 5,000 | u. k. cotton goods: | | | cabots | 6,100 | 66,000 | u. k., it., ger., aus., u. s. calicoes | 50,000 | 44,000 | u. k., it., ger., aus., rus. flannel | 35,000 | 11,000 | it., aus., bel., neth., u. k. handkerchiefs | 10,000 | 2,200 | u. k., aus., ger. prints | 13,000 | 35,000 | u. k., it., rus. sheetings | 71,000 | 80,000 | u. k., it., neth. yarn | 165,000 | 110,000 | u. k., india. other | 80,000 | 88,000 | u. k., it., aus., ger., bel. crockery | 1,800 | 3,500 | aus., ger., it., fr. drugs | 3,800 | 7,000 | u. k., fr., u. s., ger. enameled ware | 2,400 | 11,000 | aus., ger. fezzes | 45,000 | 15,000 | aus. glass and glassware | 6,200 | 8,800 | aus., ger., u. s. grammaphones and | | | supplies | 400 | | hides, buffalo | 65,000 | 88,000 | india, china. iron and steel, | | | manufactures of: | | | agricultural | | | implements | 2,500 | 2,200 | u. s., u. k., ger., aus. hardware | 9,000 | 4,400 | ger., aus., u. s. machinery- | | | ginning | 1,000 | | printing | 500 | | other | 8,900 | 2,000 | u. k., u. s. nails | 7,000 | 17,600 | u. k., aus., bel. roofing, metal | 750 | 8,800 | fr., u. s. sheet iron | 5,000 | 8,800 | fr., u. k. shovels | 1,500 | 4,400 | do. tools | 1,700 | 880 | u. s., ger. water pipes | 500 | | other | 14,600 | 8,500 | bel., aus., ger., sw., neth., u. s. jewelry | 6,500 | 5,000 | aus., it., ger. leather | 11,000 | 8,800 | fr., ger., gr. matches | 20,000 | 15,000 | aus., it. mercer's goods | 44,000 | 13,200 | aus., u. k., it. paper | | | cigarette | 9,000 | 15,000 | aus., fr., ger. other | 12,500 | 10,000 | aus., ger., u. k., bel. perfumes | 1,000 | 300 | fr., ger. petroleum | 61,000 | 25,000 | rus., roumania, u. s. rubber overshoes | | | and goods | 5,000 | 4,400 | u. s. sacks and sacking | 6,000 | 5,000 | u. k. spices | 5,000 | 5,000 | india. sugar | 52,000 | 25,000 | aus., rus., egypt. tea | 2,000 | 880 | u. k., rus. tin | | 6,600 | u. k. velvet | 14,000 | 4,400 | u. k., it. woolen goods: | | | underwear | 5,500 | 6,600 | ger., aus. other | 380,000 | 175,000 | u. k., fr., ger., aus., bel. all other articles | 60,000 | 42,000 | -------------------- total 1,360,750 1,038,000 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------the imports into the vilayet of mamouret-ul-aziz from other parts of turkey during 1014 were valued at $487,060, compared with $833,700 for 1013. the imported articles and their value for two years were as follows: -------------------------+---------+-------- articles. | 1913 | 1914 -------------------------+---------+-------- aniseed | $3,500 | $3,500 butter | 150,000 | 132,000 copperware | 45,000 | 5,000 flour | 2,000 | 1,760 henna | 1,500 | 2,200 horseshoes | 4,000 | 3,500 ornaments, gold and | | silver | 4,800 | 3,500 rice | 17,000 | 26,400 salt | 145,000 | 30,000 shares, plow | | (native make) | 1,500 | 880 school supplies | 5,000 | 2,500 sheetings | 4,400 | 4,400 sheep and goats | 280,000 | 180,000 soap | 85,000 | 17,600 timber | 5,000 | 5,000 tobacco | 34,500 | 26,400 towels | 3,500 | 1,760 all other articles | 42,000 | 40,660 ------------------ total 833,700 487,060 -------------------------------------------+effect of war on export trade.+ the effect of the disturbed conditions on the export trade was much worse, as most of the articles exported from here are agricultural products and are not shipped until the latter part of the year. by that time all animals that could be used for transport were requisitioned for the army and shipments either abroad or to other parts of turkey were impossible. consequently, the export trade to foreign countries from this vilayet in 1914 amounted to only $137,100, as compared with $494,390 in 1913, and the value of shipments to other provinces of turkey to $139,600, as compared with $599,740 in 1913--a total of only $276,700 in 1914, whereas the total exports in 1913 amounted to $1,094,130. these exports were as follows: ------------------+---------+---------- articles. | 1913 | 1914 ------------------+---------+---------- to foreign countries. | apricot stones: | | bitter | $6,000 | sweet | 8,000 | cocoons | 8,500 | cotton | 47,300 | $60,000 embroideries | 20,000 | 1,000 fruits, dried | 16,000 | furs | 19,000 | goatskins | 22,000 | leather, morocco | 39,000 | nuts: | | pistachio | 12,000 | other | 12,000 | opium | 190,740 | 75,000 raisins | 35,000 | rugs and kilims | 20,000 | sausage casings | 9,300 | 1,100 silkworm eggs | 19,800 | other articles | 9,750 | ------------------ total 494,390 137,100 ------------------------------------ to turkish provinces. | almonds | $6,500 | apricots, dried | 42,000 | $440 butter | 6,500 | cotton prints | 3,000 | 26,400 cotton | 96,000 | 20,000 cord and ropes | 8,000 | 660 fruits | 25,000 | 22,000 goatskins | 75,000 | 2,000 hides | 7,000 | 5,000 leather, morocco | 18,000 | 2,200 manoosa | | (cotton cloth) | 180,000 | 30,000 raisins | 39,000 | 2,500 silk cloth | 8,000 | 3,500 silk, raw | 6,000 | all other articles| 79,740 | 24,900 ------------------ total 599,740 139,600 ------------------------------------the foregoing figures are estimates made after interviewing all the leading merchants and shopkeepers in this region. no official trade statistics are kept in the interior of turkey. the only declared exports from this consular district to the united states during 1914 was a shipment of household goods and personal effects, valued at $92, made by a missionary, who was returning home. +advance in prices of necessaries.+ the greatest decrease in imports was in the necessaries of life, such as petroleum, soap, sugar, coffee, tea, and woolen goods. the prices of these commodities have consequently increased considerably and are continuing to rise. the government has endeavored to remedy this condition by ordering merchants to sell their wares at reasonable prices. the prices of kerosene has advanced from 80 to 200 piasters a box (two tins), soap from 9 to 10 piasters an oke (a piaster is equivalent to 4.4 cents and an oke to 2.82 pounds), sugar from 4 to 10 piasters an oke, coffee from 15 to 36 piasters an oke, and tea from 5 to 10 piasters a box, while the prices of clothes, shoes, and other articles of wearing apparel have increased on an average about 50 per cent. +trade opportunities along certain lines.+ notwithstanding the limited means of the people of this district and its small trade, there is a slight market here for some kinds of goods. these opportunities are undoubtedly increased to some extent by the present situation, which has cut off many of the former sources of supply, and when means of transportation are again available tradesmen will have to replenish their stocks. among articles formerly obtained from european countries that might be supplied by the united states are candles, cigarette paper, copper (sheet), enameled iron and steel ware, fezzes, matches, nails, sheet iron, shovels, and sugar. the market for sugar is especially good, and there is also a considerable demand for enameled ware, the sale of which is increasing rapidly, and for nails and shovels. +demand for cotton goods.+ the sale of many articles now imported in limited quantities from the united states may readily be increased. most important are cotton goods, especially cabots. on investigation it was found that these are sold in this district in much greater quantities than was previously supposed. it is believed that if proper arrangements could be made, american cabots might take the place, to a great extent, of those now imported from other countries. the american cabot "a" is well known in turkey and is extensively used both in the army and among the people. any cabot to be sold here must be cheap and durable. there is also a good market for calicoes and prints. calicoes must be unstarched and prints must be of fast colors. bright colors with large flower designs are preferred; prints having animal designs would not sell here. large quantities of yarn are used, especially in the region of arabkir, in the manufacture of a cotton cloth called "manoosa," which is made and worn throughout asia minor. in the past practically all the yarn has come from england and india. care should be taken about sizes, as only certain numbers are used, and only english numbers are understood. remnants of ginghams, calicoes, ribbons, or any other textile articles would have a good sale here. +increased market for second-hand clothing, shoes, knit underwear, etc.+ other articles of wearing apparel that are now imported from the united states in small quantities might be sold more extensively. the rapid increase in the sale of second-hand clothing is an indication of the possibilities in this line. the dealers in these goods have no difficulty in selling all they can get and report a growing demand for them, due largely to the return of many armenians who have lived in the united states. the men in this region are gradually discarding their native "entari" (a union waist and skirt, in appearance like a woman's dress) for modern clothes, which they find more convenient. style is of less consideration than cheapness. one frequently sees men wearing second-hand women's jackets. american shoes are worn here to some extent, and there is a fair market for shoes that sell for not more than $2 or $8. there is also a growing demand for rubber overshoes, nearly all of which now come from the united states. owing to the present lack of transportation facilities they are being imported by post. knit underwear is beginning to be worn, but only by the better classes. as they comprise only a small portion of the population, the market for this line of goods is limited. parasols are always carried by the higher-class turkish and armenian women, principally for the purpose of concealing their faces. bright colors are always chosen. some improvement is to be noted in the styles of women's dresses. woolen dress goods are now sold here. medium qualities of durable material sell best. this is not as important a market for other woollen goods as might appear from the import statistics, as only the cheapest kinds can be sold. among other articles for which there is some market might be mentioned buttons, celluloid collars, suspenders, and thread. +government encouraging the use of improved agricultural implements.+ there is a great need of certain kinds of agricultural implements in this district. agriculture is practically its only industry, but it is carried on in the most primitive manner with crude wooden and iron plows and other implements of local manufacture. the government has been making some effort, however, to introduce modern farming implements, and maintains in all the principal cities in the interior of asia minor supply stations where they are sold at cost and free instruction given in their use. only the cheapest and simplest kinds of implements can be sold. much of the land is rough and stony, and oxen are used instead of horses. there is a limited market for hardware and for simple carpenters' and blacksmiths' tools, such as axes, hammers, hatchets, drills, files, planes, screw drivers, saws, hinges, locks, latches, staples, chains, wire, wire nails, knives, forks, spoons, pocketknives, scissors, clippers, currycombs, small coffee mills, and meat choppers. the last are used by nearly every one in preparing a favorite native dish of chopped meat called "kufte". until recently nearly all the above-mentioned articles used here have been of local make, but foreign-made goods are gradually taking their places. american sewing machines have a good sale. there has also been some demand for american metal roofing. +other articles that might find a market.+ among other articles for which there is some market in this district, only a small portion of which now comes from the united states, are bicycles, canned fish, clocks and watches, drugs, glass and glassware, lamps, lanterns, needles and pins, petroleum, second-hand saddles, shoe polish, soap, stationery, toys, and wooden shoe pegs. the sale of drugs is rapidly increasing, due partly to the many armenians here who have become accustomed to their use in the united states, and also to the american hospitals in the district, all of which maintain public dispensaries. the sale of american petroleum has recently begun in this region; formerly nearly all came from russia and roumania. there is no market worth seeking in this district for such articles as automobiles, electrical or other machinery, engines, motor boats, musical instruments, or office furniture, though there is an occasional isolated purchase. one automobile was ordered last june through this consulate, but owing to the outbreak of war its shipment has been indefinitely delayed. plans were being made for the installation of an electric-light plant at sivas, but the undertaking has been stopped by the war. this would have been the first one in the interior of asia minor. +effect of emigration on business--money sent from united states.+ one advantage that american firms have in doing business here is that a large number of armenians from this district have been to the united states. they have become familiar with articles of american manufacture and are useful agents in advertising their merits. most of them understand english. some of them buy small shops in the market and start in business for themselves. they naturally favor american goods. others engage in some trade in which they employ american tools. local bankers estimate that nearly $1,000,000, or $10 per family, comes into this one vilayet annually from emigrants who have settled in the united states. the importance of this revenue to the poor people here can be appreciated from the fact that the average family lives on about $150 a year. many are wholly dependent on money sent them by relatives in the united states. great hardship is being caused, therefore, by the present situation, as it is practically impossible to send money here. the only industry of importance in this district is agriculture, and the prosperity of the region depends on the success of the crops. the farmers, who constitute a large part of the population, realized but little on the crops, owing partly to the abundance of yield, the decreased demand on account of the departure of large numbers of men for the army, and the scarcity of money. these conditions, however, benefited those living in the towns and cities. wheat sold in 1013 for 50 or 60 piasters per kile (a piaster is equivalent to 4.4 cents and a kile to about 170 pounds) and barley for 35 piasters per kile. last year wheat sold as low as 35 piasters per kile and barley as low as 25 piasters per kile. +increased yield of cotton.+ considerable cotton of an inferior quality is raised in this vilayet. the bolls are about the size of a walnut, the fiber short, and the plants small. other varieties do not thrive here on account of the shortness of the season. the method of cultivation is primitive, most of the work being performed by women, and little effort is made to secure good crops. it is estimated that last year's yield will amount to between 1,400,000 and 1,600,000 pounds, which is greater than it was in 1013; but as the ginning is done very slowly with small machines, not more than 40,000 or 50,000 pounds had actually been brought to the market by the end of the year. none arrived until december and it is probable that the full crop will not be received before may or june. no cotton is being exported at the present time, but last year about $60,000 worth of the 1913 crop went to russia, and about $20,000 worth to other provinces of turkey. about 250,000 pounds of cotton are sold in this vilayet each year to be used in making rough cotton cloth and native prints. this year, however, owing to the impossibility of exportation and to the difficulty of importing cotton goods, much more than that amount will probably be used in making native cloth. the price of last season's cotton when it was first received was 20 piasters a batman (about 5 cents a pound). by the end of december it had advanced to 30 piasters a batman (7 cents a pound). the average price here is 35 or 40 piasters a batman (84 to 91 cents a pound). +production of silk, opium, and fruit.+ the cultivation of silkworms is carried on in nearly every village of the district. there are a number of small silk factories and most of the production of this industry is used locally, but usually some cocoons are exported each year to marseille and some silkworm eggs to russia, persia, and roumania, while raw silk goes to several of the other provinces of turkey. last year there were no exports abroad in this line and very little, if anything, sent to other provinces. the production of cocoons in this vilayet was only about half what it was in 1913, amounting to about 100,000 pounds (making 10,000 or 11,000 pounds of raw silk). one-fourth of this amount was used by one factory, the only one of any size in the district, but this is now closed because there is no market for its goods. a small amount was used by a few other small factories and the remainder is on hand. the amount of eggs last season was 30,000 ounces, the same as in 1913, of which 5,000 ounces were used here and the remainder is on hand. the yield of opium last year was practically the same as in 1913, amounting to about 17,000 okes (47,000 pounds), all of it being produced in malatia. only about half of this amount, valued at $75,000, has been exported. the price fluctuated considerably last season, varying from $1.50 to $5 per pound. the average price here is about $4 per pound. the fruit crop last year was much less than usual, as the trees were badly damaged by hailstorms in may and much of the fruit destroyed before it was ripe. there was only about half an average crop of almonds, grapes, apples, pears, and plums. the price of almonds, however, is only 9 piasters an oke (13 cents a pound), about half the usual price, because none were exported. the crop of apricots was about average, and the peach crop only a little below the average. +lack of fuel--machinery for artesian well.+ the lack of fuel is one of the greatest problems of this region. the only wood obtainable is scrub oak sapplings, all of which has to be brought here on the backs of donkeys from a distance of two or three or even four days' journey. the price is advancing each year as the supply is getting scarcer and the wood brought from greater distances. there is no way by which coal or wood could be brought here from other places. the recent discovery of a deposit of coal in the paloo region, two days' journey from harput, aroused hopes that this problem might be partially solved, but the coal has proved to be of inferior quality and hardly worth bringing here. the machinery for the artesian well mentioned in the last two annual reports from this consulate was recently set up and drilling has begun under the direction of a native engineer, but as yet without results. washington : government printing office : 1915 my country _her majesty the queen of rumania_ _the stealers of light_ illustrated in colour by edmund dulac. price 6/net. _the dreamer of dreams_ illustrated in colour by edmund dulac. price 6/net. _the lily of life_ illustrated in colour by helen stratton. price 6/net. hodder and stoughton, london [illustration] my country by marie queen of rumania [illustration] all profits from the sale of this book will be paid to the british red cross society for work in rumania published for the times by hodder and stoughton london new york toronto mcmxvi illustrations page "the thatched roofs are replaced by roofs of shingle that shine like silver in the sun" 6 "very different are the mountain villages from those of the plain. the cottages are less miserable" 6 "many a hearty welcome has been given me in these little villages" 7 "square, high buildings with an open gallery round the top" 7 "it is especially in the dobrudja that these different nationalities jostle together" 10 "it had kept the delightful appearance of having been modelled by a potter's thumb" 14 "primitive strongholds, half tower, half peasant-house" 14 "richer and more varied are the peasants' costumes" 14 "with an open gallery round the top formed by stout short columns" 15 "composed of a double colonnade.... behind these colonnades are the nuns' small cells: tiny domes, little chambers" 15 "a convent ... white and lonely, hidden away in wooded regions greener and sweeter than any other in the land" 18 "this porch is decorated all over with frescoes" 22 "some were so old, so bent, that they could no more raise their heads to look up at the sky above" 23 "strange old monks inhabited it" 23 "silent recluses, buried away from the world" 23 "an indescribable harmony makes its lines beautiful" 26 "a lonely little cemetery, filled with crosses of wood" 30 "on lonely mountain-sides" 30 "guarded by a few hoary old monks" 30 "there lies a tiny wee church" 30 "tall and upright, with the pale, ascetic face of a saint" 30 "creatures so old and decrepit that they seem to have gathered moss like stones lying for ever in the same place" 30 "when found in such numbers they are mostly hewn out of wood" 31 "these strange old crosses ... they stand by the wayside" 31 "mostly they stand beside wells" 34 "quaint of shape, they attract the eye from far" 38 "sometimes they are of quaintly carved stone" 38 "strange old crosses that on all roads i have come upon" 38 "their forms and sizes are varied" 38 "none of the greater buildings attract me so strongly as those little village churches" 39 "the altar is shut off from the rest of the building by a carved and painted screen" 39 "the roofs are always of shingle" 42 "varied indeed are the shapes of these peasant churches" 46 "their principal feature being the stout columns that support the porch in front" 46 "but with some the belfry stands by itself" 47 "the columns have beautiful carved capitals of rarest design ... whitewashed like the rest of the church" 47 "quaint indeed are the buildings that some simple-hearted artist has painted" 47 "these lonely mountain-dwellers" 50 "these shaggy garments give them a wild appearance" 54 "their only refuges are dug-outs" 54 "even tiny boys wear these extraordinary coats" 54 "here, in company with their dogs, they spend the long summer months" 54 "on juicy pastures near clear-flowing stream" 55 "silent watchers leaning on their staffs" 55 "wherever i have met them, be it on the mountains or in the plains, ... these silent shepherds have seemed to me the very personification of solitude" 55 "on the burning plains of the dobrudja where for miles around no tree is to be seen" 58 "stifled by the overwhelming temperature, they had massed themselves together" 58 "mothers and children, and old grannies" 62 "small bronze statues with curly, tousled heads" 62 "occasionally a torn shirt barely covers them" 62 "most beautiful of all are the young girls" 63 "inconceivably picturesque" 63 "these are the respected members of the tribes" 63 "i have often met old couples wandering together" 63 "a bare field where the soldiers exercised" 66 my country the queen of a small country! those who are accustomed to see rulers of greater lands can little understand what it means. it means work and anxiety and hope, and great toiling for small results. but the field is large, and, if the heart be willing, great is the work. when young i thought it all work, uphill work; but the passing years brought another knowledge, a blessed knowledge, and now i know. this is a small country, a new country, but it is a country i love. i want others to love it also; therefore listen to a few words about it. let me paint a few pictures, draw a few sketches as i have seen them, first with my eyes, then with my heart. * * * * * once i was a stranger to this people; now i am one of them, and, because i came from so far, better was i able to see them with their good qualities and with their defects. their country is a fruitful country, a country of vast plains, of waving corn, of deep forests, of rocky mountains, of rivers that in spring-time are turbulent with foaming waters, that in summer are but sluggish streams lost amongst stones. a country where peasants toil 'neath scorching suns, a country untouched by the squalor of manufactories, a country of extremes where the winters are icy and the summers burning hot. a link between east and west. at first it was an alien country, its roads too dusty, too endless its plains. i had to learn to see its beauties--to feel its needs with my heart. little by little the stranger became one of them, and now she would like the country of her birth to see this other country through the eyes of its queen. yes, little by little i learnt to understand this people, and little by little it learned to understand me. now we trust each other, and so, if god wills, together we shall go towards a greater future! my love of freedom and vast horizons, my love of open air and unexplored paths led to many a discovery. alone i would ride for hours to reach a forlorn village, to see a crumbling church standing amongst its rustic crosses at a river's edge, or to be at a certain spot at sunset when sky and earth would be drenched with flaming red. oh! the rumanian sunsets, how wondrous they are! [illustration: "the thatched roofs are replaced by roofs of shingle that shine like silver in the sun" (p. 13).] [illustration: "very different are the mountain villages from those of the plain. the cottages are less miserable" (p. 13).] [illustration: "many a hearty welcome has been given me in these little villages" (p. 13).] [illustration: "square, high buildings with an open gallery round the top" (p. 21).] once i was riding slowly homewards. the day had been torrid, the air was heavy with dust. in oceans of burnished gold the corn-fields spread before me. no breath of wind stirred their ripeness; they seemed waiting for the hour of harvest, proud of being the wealth of the land. as far as my eye could reach, corn-fields, corn-fields, dwindling away towards the horizon in a vapoury line. a blue haze lay over the world, and with it a smell of dew and ripening seed was slowly rising out of the ground. at the end of the road stood a well, its long pole like a giant finger pointing eternally to the sky. beside it an old stone cross leaning on one side as though tired, a cross erected with the well in remembrance of some one who was dead.... peace enveloped me--my horse made no movement, it also was under the evening spell. from afar a herd of buffaloes came slowly towards me over the long straight road: an ungainly procession of beasts that might have belonged to antediluvian times. one by one they advanced--mud-covered, patient, swinging their ugly bodies, carrying stiffly their heavily-horned heads, their vacant eyes staring at nothing, though here and there with raised faces they seemed to be seeking something from the skies. from under their hoofs rose clouds of dust accompanying their every stride. the sinking sun caught hold of it, turning it into fiery smoke. it was as a veil of light spread over these beasts of burden, a glorious radiance advancing with them towards their rest. i stood quite still and looked upon them as they passed me one by one.... and that evening a curtain seemed to have been drawn away from many a mystery. i had understood the meaning of the vast and fertile plain. * * * * * twenty-three years have i now spent in this country, each day bringing its joy or its sorrow, its light or its shade; with each year my interests widened, my understanding deepened; i knew where i was needed to help. i am not going to talk of my country's institutions, of its politics, of names known to the world. others have done this more cleverly than i ever could. i want only to speak of its soul, of its atmosphere, of its peasants and soldiers, of things that made me love this country, that made my heart beat with its heart. i have moved amongst the most humble. i have entered their cottages, asked them questions, taken their new-born in my arms. i talked their language awkwardly, making many a mistake; but, although a stranger, nowhere amongst the peasants did i meet with distrust or suspicion. they were ready to converse with me, ready to let me enter their cottages, and especially ready to speak of their woes. it is always of their woes that the poor have to relate, but these did it with singular dignity, speaking of death and misery with stoic resignation, counting the graves of their children as another would count the trees planted round his house. they are poor, they are ignorant, these peasants. they are neglected and superstitious, but there is a grand nobility in their race. they are frugal and sober, their wants are few, their desires limited; but one great dream each man cherishes in the depth of his heart: he wishes to be a landowner, to possess the ground that he tills; he wishes to call it his own. this they one and all told me; it was the monotonous refrain of all their talk. * * * * * when first i saw a rumanian village, with its tiny huts hidden amongst trees, the only green spots on the immense plains, i could hardly believe that families could inhabit houses so small. they resembled the houses we used to draw as children, with a door in the middle, a tiny window on each side, and smoke curling somewhere out of the heavily thatched roof. often these roofs seem too heavy for the cottages; they seem to crush them, and the wide-open doors make them look as if they were screaming for help. in the evening the women sit with their distaffs spinning on the doorsteps, whilst the herds come tramping home through the dust, and the dogs bark furiously, filling the air with their clamour. nowhere have i seen so many dogs as in a rumanian village--a sore trial to the rider on a frisky horse. all night long the dogs bark, answering each other. they are never still; it is a sound inseparable from the rumanian night. i always loved to wander through these villages. i have done so at each season, and every month has its charm. in spring-time they are half-buried in fruit-trees, a foamy ocean of blossoms out of which the round roofs of the huts rise like large grey clouds. chickens, geese, and newly born pigs sport hither and thither over the doorsteps; early hyacinths and golden daffodils run loose in the untidy courtyards, where strangely shaped pots and bright rags of carpets lie about in picturesque disorder. amongst all this the half-naked black-eyed children crawl about in happy freedom. [illustration: "it is especially in the dobrudja that these different nationalities jostle together" (p. 16).] never was i able to understand how such large families, without counting fowls and many a four-footed friend, could find room in the two minute chambers of which these huts are composed. in winter these villages are covered with snow; each hut is a white padded heap; all corners are rounded off so that every cottage has the aspect of being packed in cotton-wool. no efforts are made to clear away the drifts. the snow lies there where it has fallen; the small sledges bump over its inequalities, forming roads as wavy as a storm-beaten sea! the rumanian peasant is never in a hurry. time plays no part in his scheme of life. accustomed to limitless horizons, he does not expect to reach the end of his way in a day. in summer the carts, in winter the sledges, move along those endless roads, slowly, resignedly, with untiring patience. drawn by tiny, lean horses, the wooden sledges bump over the uneven snow, the peasant sits half-hidden amongst his stacks of wood, hay, or maize-stalks, according to the freight he may be transporting from place to place. picturesque in his rough sheep-skin coat, he is just as picturesque in summer in his white shirt and broad felt hat, contentedly lying upon his stacked-up corn, whilst his long-suffering oxen trudge away, seemingly as indifferent as their master to the length of the road. they are stone-grey, these oxen-lean, strong, with large-spread horns; their eyes are beautiful, with almost human look. the rumanian road is a characteristic feature of the country. it is wide, it is dusty, generally it is straight, few trees shading its borders; mostly it is badly kept. but, like all things upon which civilisation has not yet laid too heavy a hand, it has an indefinite charm--the charm of immensity, something dreamy, something infinite, something that need never come to an end.... and along these roads the peasants' carts crawl, one after another in an endless file, enveloped in clouds of dust. if night overtake them on the way the oxen are unyoked, the carts are drawn up beside the ditch, till the rising dawn reminds them that there are still many miles to their goal.... when it rains the dust turns to mud; the road becomes then a river of mud! rumania is not a country of violent colours. there is a curious unity in its large horizons, its dusty roads, its white-clad peasants, its rough wooden carts. even oxen and horses seem to have toned down to grey or dun, so as to become one with a sort of dreamy haziness that lies over the whole. it is only the sunsets that turn all these shadowy tints into a sudden marvel of colour, flooding earth and sky with wondrous gold. i have seen hay-stacks change into fiery pyramids, rivers into burning ribbons, and pale, tired faces light up with a marvellous glow. a fleeting hour this hour of sunset, but each time it bursts upon me as an eternally renewed promise sent by god above. perchance 'tis in winter and autumn that these sunsets are most glorious, when the earth is tired, when its year's labour is done, or when it is sleeping 'neath its shimmering shroud of snow, guarding in its bosom the harvest that is to come. * * * * * very different are the mountain villages from those of the plain. the cottages are less miserable, less small, the thatched roofs are replaced by roofs of shingle that shine like silver in the sun. richer and more varied are the peasants' costumes; the colours are brighter, and often a tiny flower-filled garden surrounds the house. autumn is the season to visit these villages amongst the hills; autumn, when the trees are a flaming glory, when the dying year sends out a last effort of beauty before being vanquished by frost and snow. many a hearty welcome has been given me in these little villages, the peasants receiving me with flower-filled hands. at the first sign of my carriage, troops of rustic riders gallop out to meet me, scampering helter-skelter on their shaggy little horses, bearing banners or flowering branches, shouting with delight. full tilt they fly after my carriage, raising clouds of dust. like their masters, the ponies are wild with excitement; all is noise, colour, movement; joy runs wild over the earth. the bells of the village ring, their voices are full of gladness, they too cry out their welcome. crowds of gaily clad women and children flock out of the houses, having plundered their gardens so as to strew flowers before the feet of their queen. the church generally stands in the middle of the village; here the sovereign must leave her carriage, and, surrounded by an eager, happy crowd, she is led towards the sanctuary, where the priest receives her at the door, cross in hand. wherever she moves the crowd moves with her; there is no awkwardness, no shyness, but neither is there any pushing or crushing. the rumanian peasants remain dignified; they are seldom rowdy in their joy. they want to look at one, to touch one, to hear one's voice; but they show no astonishment and little curiosity. mostly their expression remains serious, and their children stare at one with grave faces and huge, impressive eyes. it is only the galloping riders who become loud in their joy. [illustration: "it had kept the delightful appearance of having been modelled by a potter's thumb" (p. 21).] [illustration: "primitive strongholds, half tower, half peasant-house" (p. 21).] [illustration: "richer and more varied are the peasants' costumes" (p. 13).] [illustration: "with an open gallery round the top formed by stout short columns" (p. 21).] [illustration: "composed of a double colonnade.... behind these colonnades are the nuns' small cells: tiny domes, little chambers" (p. 26).] there are some strange customs amongst the peasants, curious superstitions. rumania being a dry country, it is lucky to arrive with rain: it means abundance, fertility, the hope of a fine harvest--wealth. sometimes as i went through the villages, the peasant women would put large wooden buckets full of water before their threshold; a full vessel is a sign of good-luck. they will even sprinkle water before one's feet, always because of that strange superstition, that water is abundance, and, when the great one comes amongst them, honour must be done unto her in every way. i have seen tall, handsome girls step out of their houses to meet me with overflowing water-jars on their heads; on my approach they stood quite still, the drops splashing over their faces so as well to prove that their pitchers were full. it is lucky to meet a cart full of corn or straw coming towards one; but an empty cart is a sure sign of ill-luck! many a time, in places i came to, the inhabitants have crowded around me, kissing my hands, the hem of my dress, falling down to kiss my feet, and more than once have they brought me their children, who made the sign of the cross before me as though i had been the holy image in a church. at first it was difficult unblushingly to accept such homage, but little by little i got accustomed to these loyal manifestations; half humble, half proud, i would advance amongst them, happy to be in their midst. * * * * * it were impossible to describe all i have seen, heard, or felt whilst moving amongst these simple, warm-hearted people; so many vivid pictures, so many touching scenes have remained imprinted on my heart. i have wandered through villages lost in forsaken spots, upon burning plains; i have climbed up to humble little houses clustering together on mountain-sides. i have come upon lovely little places hidden amongst giant pines. on forlorn seashores i have discovered humble hamlets where turks dwelt in solitary aloofness; near the broad danube i have strayed amongst tiny boroughs inhabited by russian fisher-folk, whose type is so different from that of the rumanian peasant. at first sight one recognises their nationality--tall, fair-bearded giants, with blue eyes, their red shirts visible from a great way off. it is especially in the dobrudja that these different nationalities jostle together: besides rumanians, bulgarians, turks, tartars, russians, in places even germans, live peacefully side by side. i have been to a village in the dobrudja which was part rumanian, part russian, part german, part turkish. i went from one side to another, visiting many a cottage, entering each church, ending my round in the tiny rustic mosque hung with faded carpets, and there amongst a crowd of lowly turks i listened to their curious service, of which i understood naught. a woman who is not veiled has no right to enter the holy precinct; but a royal name opens many a door, and many a severe rule is broken in the joy of receiving so unusual a guest. on a burning summer's day i came to a tiny town almost entirely inhabited by turks. i was distributing money amongst the poor and forsaken, and had been moving from place to place. now it was the turn of the mussulman population, therefore did i visit the most wretched quarters, my hands filled with many a coin. such was their joy at my coming that the real object of my visit was almost forgotten. i found myself surrounded by a swarm of excited women in strange attire, prattling a language i could not understand. they called me sultana, and each one wanted to touch me; they fingered my clothes, patted me on the back, one old hag even chucked me under the chin. they drew me with them from hut to hut, from court to court. i found myself separated from my companions, wandering in a world i had never known. amongst a labyrinth of tiny mud-built huts, of ridiculously small gardens, of hidden little courts, did they drag me with them, making me enter their hovels, put my hand on their children, sit down on their stools. like a swarm of crows they jabbered and fought over me, asking me questions, overwhelming me with kind wishes, to all of which i could answer but with a shrug of the shoulders and with smiles. the poorer mussulman women are not really veiled. they wear wide cotton trousers, and over these a sort of mantle which they hold together under the nose. the shape of these mantles gives them that indescribable line, so agreeable to the eye, and which alone belongs to the east. also the colours they choose are always harmonious; besides, they are toned down to their surroundings by sun and dust. they wear strange dull blues and mauves--even their blacks are not really black, but have taken rusty tints that mingle pleasingly with the mud-coloured environment in which they dwell. when attired for longer excursions, their garb is generally black, with a snow-white cloth on their heads, wrapped in such manner that it conceals the entire face, except the eyes. indescribably picturesque and mysterious are these dusky figures when they come towards one, grazing the walls, generally carrying a heavy staff in their hands; there is something biblical about them, something that takes one back to far-away times! on this hot summer's morn of which i am relating, i managed to escape for a moment from my over-amiable assailants, so as to steal into a tiny hut of which the door stood wide open. [illustration: "a convent ... white and lonely, hidden away in wooded regions greener and sweeter than any other in the land" (p. 25).] irresistibly attracted by its mysterious shade, i penetrated into the mud-made hovel, finding myself in almost complete darkness. at the farther end a wee window let in a small ray of light. groping my way, i came upon a pallet of rags, and upon that couch of misery i discovered an old, old woman--so old, so old, that she might have existed in the time of fairies and witches, times no more in touch with the bustle and noise of to-day. bending over her, i gazed into her shrunken face, and all the legends of my youth seemed to rise up before me, all the stories that as a child, entranced, i had listened to, stories one never forgets.... above her, hanging from a rusty nail within reach of her hand, was a curiously shaped black earthenware pot. everything around this old hag was the colour of the earth: her face, her dwelling, the rags that covered her, the floor on which i stood. the only touch of light in this hovel was a white lamb, crouching quite undisturbed at the foot of her bed. pressing some money between her crooked bony fingers, i left this strange old mortal to her snowy companion, and, stepping back into the sunshine, i had the sensation that for an instant it had been given me to stray through unnumbered ages into the days of yore. from the beginning of time rumania was a land subjected to invasions. one tyrannical master after another laid heavy hands upon its people; it was accustomed to be dominated, crushed, maltreated. seldom was it allowed to affirm itself, to raise its head, to be independent, happy, or free; nevertheless, in spite of struggles and slavery, it was not a people destined to disappear. it overcame every hardship, stood every misery, endured every subjugation, could not be crushed out of being; but the result is that the rumanian folk are not gay. their songs are sad, their dances slow, their amusements are seldom boisterous, rarely are their voices loud. on festive days they don their gayest apparel and, crowded together in the dust of the road, they will dance in groups or in wide circles, tirelessly, for many an hour; but even then they are not often joyful or loud, they are solemn and dignified, seeming to take their amusement demurely, without passion, without haste. their love-songs are long complaints; the tunes they play on their flutes wail out endlessly their longing and desire that appear to remain eternally unsatisfied, to contain no hope, no fulfilment. for the same reason few very old houses exist; there is hardly a castle or a great monument remaining from out the past. what was the use of building fine habitations if any day the enemy might sweep over the country and burn everything to the ground? one or two strange old constructions have been preserved from those times of invasion: square, high buildings with an open gallery round the top formed by stout short columns, and here and there, in the immense thickness of the walls, tiny windows as look-outs. primitive strongholds, half tower, half peasant-house, they generally stand somewhat isolated and resemble nothing i have seen in other lands. i have lived in one of these strange houses. the gallery, that once was a buttress, had been turned into a balcony, and from between the squat pillars a lovely view was to be had over hill and plain. the rooms beneath were small, low, irregular, behind great thick walls; a wooded staircase as steep as a ladder led to these chambers. both outside and inside the building was whitewashed, and so primitive was its construction, that it had kept the delightful appearance of having been modelled by a potter's thumb. there were no sharp angles, but something rounded and uneven about its corners that no modern dwelling can possess. the whole was crowned by a broad roof of shingle, grey, with silver lights. but it is the old convents and monasteries of this country that have above all guarded treasure from out the past. from the very first these secluded spots of beauty attracted me more than anything else; indescribable is the spell that they throw over me, almost inexplicable the delight with which they fill my soul! as in many other countries, the rumanian monks and nuns knew how to select the most enchanting places for their homes of peace. i have wandered from one to another, discovering many a hidden treasure, visiting the richest and the poorest, those easy of access and those hidden away in mountain valleys, where the traveller's foot but rarely strays. some i was only able to reach on horseback, having climbed over hill and dale, up or down stony passes, followed by troops of white-clad peasants, mounted on shaggy, dishevelled ponies, sure-footed as mountain-goats. once at dusk, after a whole day's riding over the mountains, i came quite suddenly upon one of these far-away sanctuaries, whitewashed, strangely picturesque, half-hidden amongst pines and venerable beech-trees with trunks like giants turned suddenly to stone--giants that in their last agony are twisting their arms in useless despair. on my approach the bells began ringing--their clear and strident voices proclaiming their joy to the skies. i rode through the covered portal into the walled-in court. before i could dismount i was surrounded by a dark swarm of nuns making humble gestures of greeting, crossing themselves, falling to their knees, and pressing their foreheads against the stones on the ground, catching hold of my hands or part of my garment, which they kissed, whilst they cried and murmured, mumbling many a prayer. [illustration: "this porch is decorated all over with frescoes" (p. 26).] [illustration: "some were so old, so bent, that they could no more raise their heads to look up at the sky above" (p. 28).] [illustration: "strange old monks inhabited it" (p. 27).] [illustration: "silent recluses, buried away from the world" (p. 27).] dazed by such a welcome, i was seized under the elbow by the mother abbess, a venerable, tottering old woman, whose face was seared by age as a field is furrowed by the plough. half leading me, half hanging on to me for support, she conducted me towards the open church-door. from time to time she would furtively kiss my shoulder, and in a sort of lowly ecstasy press her old, old face close to mine. all the other nuns trooped after us like a flock of black-plumed birds, their dark veils waving about in the wind, the bells still ringing in peals of delight! within the dim sanctuary the lighted tapers were as swarms of fire-flies in a dusk-filled forest; the nuns grouped themselves along the walls, their dark dresses becoming one with the shadow, so that alone their faces stood out, rendered almost ethereal by the wavering candle-light. they were chanting--fain would i say that their singing was beautiful, but that were scarcely the truth! not as in russia, the chanting in the rumanian churches is far from melodious--they drone through the nose longdrawn, oft-repeated chants, anything but harmonious, and which seemingly have no reason ever to come to an end. but somehow, that evening, in the forlorn mountain convent far from the homes of men, there, in the low-domed chapel, filled with those sable-clad figures whose earnest faces were almost angelic in the mystical light, the weird sounds that rose towards the roof were not out of place. there was something old-time about them, something archaic, primitive, in keeping with the somewhat barbaric paintings and images, something that seemed to have strayed down from past ages into the busier world of to-day.... more pompous were the receptions i received in the larger monasteries. here all the monks would file out to meet me--a procession of black-robed, long-bearded beings, austere of appearance, sombre of face. taking me by the arm, the father superior would solemnly lead me towards the gaily decorated church, whilst many little children would throw flowers before me as i passed. not over-severe are the monastic rules in rumania. the convent-doors are open to all visitors; in former days they were houses of rest for travellers wandering from place to place. three days' hospitality did the holy walls offer to those passing that way; this was the ancient custom, and now in many places monks or nuns are allowed to let their little houses to those in need of a summer's rest. this, however, is only possible where the convents are real little villages, where more or less each recluse possesses his own small house. there are two kinds of convents in this country: either a large building where all the monks or nuns are united beneath the same roof, or a quantity of tiny houses grouped in a large square round the central church. the former alone are architecturally interesting, and some i have visited are exquisitely perfect in proportion and shape. one of these convents above all others draws me towards it, for irresistible indeed is its charm. a convent ... white and lonely, hidden away in wooded regions greener and sweeter than any other in the land. perfect is the form of its church, snow-white the colonnades that surround its tranquil court. a charm and a mystery envelop it, such as nowhere else have i felt. sober are its sculptures, but an indescribable harmony makes its lines beautiful, and such a peace pervades the place that here i felt as though i had truly found the house of rest.... whenever i go there the nuns receive me with touching delight, half astonished that one so high should care about so simple a place. i go there often, whenever i can, for it has thrown a strange spell over me, and often again must i return to its whitewashed walls. the building forms a quadrangle round the church, three sides of which are composed of a double colonnade, built one above the other, the upper one forming an open gallery running round the whole. behind these colonnades are the nuns' small cells: tiny domes, little chambers, whitewashed, humble, and still.... large is the church, noble of line, rich of sculpture, fronted by a large, covered porch supported by stone pillars richly carved. like the interior of the building, this porch is decorated all over with frescoes, artless of conception, archaic of design, and harmonious, the colour having been toned down by the hand of time. within, the church is high, dim, mystical, entirely painted with strange-faced saints, who stare at one as though astonished to be disturbed out of their lonely silence and peace. many a treasure lies within these walls: ancient images, crumbling tombstones, a marvellously carved altar-screen, gilt and painted with incomparable skill, all the colours faded and blended together by the master of all arts--time. in shadowy corners, heavily chased lamps, hanging on chains from above, shed a mysterious light upon silver-framed icons, polished by many a pious kiss. in truth a holy sanctuary, inducing the spirit to soar above the things of this earth.... [illustration: "an indescribable harmony makes its lines beautiful" (p. 25).] the fourth side of the quadrangle is shut in by a high wall, with a door in the centre opening upon a narrow path that leads towards a second smaller temple, as perfect in shape as the greater building of the inner court. here the nuns are buried; an idyllic spot enclosed by crumbling walls that wild rose-bushes, covered with delicate blooms, hold together by their long thorny arms. the strangely shaped wooden crosses that mark the graves stand amidst high, waving grass and venerable apple-trees that age seems to incline tenderly towards those slumbering beneath the sod at their feet. all round--beech forests upon low, undulating hills; as background to these, mountains--blue, hazy, unreachable, forming a barrier against the outside world.... a place of beauty, a place of rest, a place of peace.... many sites of beauty rise before my eyes when i think of these hidden houses of prayer. countless is the number i have visited in all four corners of the land, and again i turn my feet towards them whenever i can. hard were it to say which are the more picturesque, the convents or the monasteries; both are equally interesting, equally quaint. i remember a small monastery, nestling beneath the sides of a frowning mountain, surrounded by pine forests, dark and mysterious. the way leading there was tortuous, stony, difficult of access, yet the place itself was a small meadow-encircled paradise of tranquillity, green and reposeful as a dream of rest. strange old monks inhabited it--silent recluses, buried away from the world, shadowy spectres, almost sinister in their aloofness, their eyes having taken the look of forest-dwellers who are no more accustomed to look into the eyes of men. noiselessly they followed me wherever i went, heads bent, but their eyes watching me from beneath shaggy brows, their hands concealed within their wide hanging sleeves; it was as though dark shadows were dogging my every step. i turned round and looked into their obscure faces--how far-away they seemed! who were they? what was their story? what had been their childhood, their hopes, their loves? for the most part, i think, they were but humble, ignorant beings, with no wider ideals, no far-away visions of higher things. some were so old, so bent that they could no more raise their heads to look up at the sky above; their long, grey beards had taken on the appearance of lichens growing upon fallen trees. but one there was amongst them, tall and upright, with the pale, ascetic face of a saint. i know not his name, naught of his past; but he had a noble visage, and meseemed that in his eyes i could read dreams that were not only the dreams of this earth. i cannot, alas! speak of all the convents i have seen, but one i must still mention, for indeed it is a rare little spot upon earth. hidden within the mouth of a cavern, lost in the wildest mountain region, there lies a tiny wee church, so small, so small that one must bend one's head to step over the threshold; it appears to be a toy, dropped there by some giant hand and forgotten. only a tiny little wooden chapel guarded by a few hoary old monks, creatures so old and decrepit that they seem to have gathered moss like stones lying for ever in the same place.... no road leads to this sanctuary; one must seek one's way to it on foot or horseback, over mountain steeps and precipitous rocks. there it lies in the dark cave entry, solitary, grey, and ancient, like a hidden secret waiting to be found out. behind the wee church the hollow stretches, dark and tortuous, running in mysterious obscurity right into the heart of the earth. when the end is reached a gurgling of water is heard--a spring, ice-cold, bubbles there out of the earth, pure and fresh as the sources in the garden of eden.... i have known of passionate lovers coming to be married in this church, defying the hardships of the road, defying nature's frowning barriers, so as to be bound together for life in this far-away spot where crowds cannot gather. on the way to this church, not far from the mouth of the cave, stands a lonely little cemetery, filled with crosses of wood. here the monks who have lived out their solitary lives are finally laid to eternal rest. dark are those crosses, standing like spectres against the naked rock. the summer suns scorch them, the winds of autumn beat them about, and ofttimes the snows of winter fell them to the ground. but in spring-time early crocuses and delicate anemones cluster around them, gathering in fragrant bunches about their feet. meseems that, in spite of its solitude, it would not be sad to be buried in such a spot.... * * * * * once i was riding through the melting snow. the road i was following, like all rumanian roads, was long, long, endlessly long, dwindling away in the distance, becoming one with the colourless sky. it was a day of depression, a day of thaw, when the world is at its worst. all around me the flat plains lay waiting for something that did not come. the landscape appeared to be without horizon, to possess no frontiers: all was dully uniform, without life, without light, without joy. silence lay over the earth--silence and dismal repose. with loose reins and hanging heads my horse and i trudged along through the slush. we were going nowhere in particular; a sort of torpor of indifference had come over us, well in keeping with the melancholy of the day. a damp fog hung like a faded veil close over the earth; it was not a dense fog, but wavered about like steam. [illustration: "a lonely little cemetery, filled with crosses of wood" (p. 29).] [illustration: "on lonely mountain-sides" (p. 35).] [illustration: "guarded by a few hoary old monks" (p. 29).] [illustration: "there lies a tiny wee church" (p. 28).] [illustration: "tall and upright, with the pale, ascetic face of a saint" (p. 28).] [illustration: "creatures so old and decrepit that they seem to have gathered moss like stones lying for ever in the same place" (p. 29).] [illustration: "when found in such numbers they are mostly hewn out of wood" (p. 34).] [illustration: "these strange old crosses.... they stand by the way-side" (p. 33).] all of a sudden, i heard a weird sound coming towards me out of the distance, something the like of which i had never heard before.... drawing in my reins, i stood still at the edge of the road wondering what i was to see. unexpected indeed was the procession that, like a strange dream, was coming towards me from out the mist! wading through the melting snow advanced two small boys, carrying between them a round tin platter on which lay a flat cake; behind them came an old priest carrying a cross in his hand, gaudily attired in faded finery--red, gold and blue. his heavy vestment was all splashed and soiled, his long hair and unkempt beard were dirty-grey, like the road upon which he walked. a sad old man, with no expression but that of misery upon his yellow shrunken face. close behind his heels followed a rough wooden cart drawn by oxen whose noses almost touched the ground; their breath formed small clouds about their heads, through which their eyes shone with patient anxiety. it was from this cart that the weird sound was rising. what could it be? then all at once i understood! a plain deal coffin had been placed in the middle of the cart; seated around it were a number of old women, wailing and weeping, raising their voices in a dismal chant, that rang like a lament through the air. their white hair was dishevelled, and their black veils floated around them like thin wisps of smoke. behind the cart walked four old gipsies playing doleful tunes upon their squeaky violins, whilst the women's voices took up the refrain in another key. never had i heard dirge more mournful, nor more lugubrious a noise. pressing after the gipsies came a knot of barefooted relatives, holding lighted tapers in their hands. the tiny flames looked almost ashamed of burning so dimly in the melancholy daylight. in passing, these weary mortals raised pale faces, looking at me with mournful eyes that expressed no astonishment. through the gloomy mist they appeared to be so many ghosts, come from nowhere, going towards i know not what. like shadows they passed and were gone; ... but through the gathering fog the wailing came back to haunt me, curiously persistent, as though the dead from his narrow coffin were calling for help.... long after this strange vision had disappeared, i stood gazing at the road where traces of their feet had remained imprinted upon the melted snow. had it all been but an hallucination, created by the melancholy of the day? as i turned my horse i was confronted by a shadow looming large at a little distance down the road. what could it be? was this a day of weird apparitions? it was not without difficulty that i induced my horse to approach the spot; verily, i think that sometimes horses see ghosts!... on nearing, i perceived that what had frightened my mount was naught but a tall stone cross. monumental, moss-grown, and mysterious, it stood all alone like a guardian keeping eternal watch over the road. from its outstretched arms great drops were falling to the ground like heavy tears.... was the old cross weeping--weeping because a lovely funeral had passed that way?... * * * * * i must talk a little about these strange old crosses that on all roads i have come upon, that i have met with in every part of the country. as yet i have not quite fathomed their meaning--but i love them, they seem so well in keeping with the somewhat melancholy character of the land. generally they stand by the wayside, sometimes in stately solitude, sometimes in groups; sometimes they are of quaintly carved stone, sometimes they are of wood, crudely painted with figures of archaic saints. no doubt these pious monuments have been raised to mark the places of some event; perhaps the death of some hero, or only the murder of a lonely traveller who was not destined to reach the end of his road.... mostly they stand beside wells, bearing the names of those who, having thought of the thirsty, erected these watering-places in far-away spots. quaint of shape, they attract the eye from far; the peasant uncovers his head before them, murmuring a prayer for the dead. at cross-roads i have sometimes come upon them ten in a row; when found in such numbers they are mostly hewn out of wood. their forms and sizes are varied: some are immensely high and solid, covered by queer shingle roofs; often their design is intricate, several crosses, growing one out of another, forming a curious pattern, the whole painted in the crudest colours that sun and rain soon tone down to pleasant harmony. protected by their greater companions, many little crosses crowd alongside: round crosses and square crosses, crosses that are slim and upright, crosses that seem humbly to bend towards the ground.... on lonely roads these rustic testimonies of faith are curiously fascinating. one wonders what vows were made when they were placed there by pious hands and believing hearts. but, above all, the carved crosses of stone attract me. i have discovered them in all sorts of places; some are of rare beauty, covered with inscriptions entangled in wonderful designs. [illustration: "mostly they stand beside wells" (p. 34).] i have come upon them on bare fields, on the edges of dusty roads, on the borders of dark forests, on lonely mountain-sides. i have found them on forsaken waters by the sea, where the gulls circled around them caressing them gently with the tips of their wings. many a mile have i ridden so as to have another look at these mysterious symbols, for always anew they fill my soul with an intense desire for tranquillity; they are so solemnly impressive, so silent, so still.... one especially was dear to my heart. it stood all alone in dignified solitude upon a barren field, frowning down upon a tangle of thistles that twisted their thorny stems beneath the shade of its arms. i know not its history, nor why it was watching over so lonely a place; it appeared to have been there from the beginning of time. tired of its useless vigil, it was leaning slightly on one side, and at dusk its shadow strangely resembled the shadow of a man. * * * * * nothing is more touchingly picturesque than the village cemeteries: the humbler they are the more do they delight the artist's eye. often they are placed round the village church, but sometimes they lie quite apart. i always seek them out, loving to wander through their poetical desolation--feeling so far, so far from the noise and haste of our turbulent world. certainly these little burial-grounds are not tended and cared for as in tidier lands. the graves are scattered about amidst weeds and nettles, sometimes thistles grow so thickly about the crosses that they half hide them from sight. but in spring-time, before the grass is high, i have found some of them nearly buried in daffodils and irises running riot all over the place. the shadowy crosses look down upon all that wealth of colour as though wondering if god himself had adorned their forsaken graves. the rumanian peasant is averse from any unnecessary effort. what must happen happens, what must fall falls. therefore, if a cross is broken, why try to set it up again?--let it lie! the grass will cover it, the flowers will cluster in its place. on good friday morning i was roaming through one of these village churchyards. to my astonishment i found that nearly every grave was lighted with a tiny thin taper, the flame of which burnt palely, incapable of vying with the light of the sun. lying beside these ghostly little lights were broken fragments of pottery filled with smouldering ashes, that sent thin spirals of blue smoke into the tranquil spring air. on this day of mourning the living come to do honour to their dead according to their customs, according to their faith. a strange sight indeed! all those wavering little flames amongst the crumbling graves. often did i find a candle standing on a spot where all vestige of the grave itself had been entirely effaced; but it stood there burning bravely--some one remembering that just beneath that very inch of ground a heart had been laid to rest. an old woman i found that morning standing quite still beside one of those tapers--a taper so humble and thin that it could scarcely remain upright--but with crossed arms the old mother was watching it, as though silently accomplishing some rite. approaching her, i looked to see of what size was the grave she was guarding, but could perceive no grave at all! the yellow little taper was humbly standing beside a bunch of anemones. all that once had been a tomb had long since been trodden into the ground. the cloth round the old woman's head was white, white as the blossoming cherry-trees that made gay this little garden of god; white were also the flowers that grew beside the old woman's offering of love. "who is buried there?" i asked. "one of my own," was her answer. "she was my daughter's little daughter; now she is at rest." "why is the grave no more to be seen?" was my next inquiry. for all answer a shrug of the shoulders, and the dim eyes looked into mine; complete resignation was what i read in their depths. "what is the use of keeping a grave tidy if the priest of the village allows his oxen to graze about amidst the tombs?" i looked at her in astonishment. "could not such disorder be put a stop to?" again a shrug of the shoulders. "who is there to put a stop to it? the cattle must have somewhere to feed!" i saw that she considered it quite natural, and that which lay beneath the ground could verily be indifferent to those passing hoofs, as long as on good friday some one remembered to burn a taper over her heart! on good friday night, long services are celebrated in every church or chapel in the land. full of mystical charm are those peasant gatherings round their humble houses of prayer. men, women, and children flock together, each one bearing a light. those who find no place within stand outside in patient crowds. a lovely picture indeed. from each church window the light streams forth, whilst weird chants float out to those waiting beyond. in front of the sanctuary hundreds of wavering little flames, lighting up the visages of those who, with ecstatic faces, are hearkening for sounds of the service that is being celebrated within. custom will have it that, on good friday nights, flowers shall be brought by the worshippers--flowers that are reverently laid upon an embroidered effigy of the crucified christ which is placed on a table in the centre of the church. [illustration: "quaint of shape, they attract the eye from far" (p. 34).] [illustration: "sometimes they are of quaintly carved stone" (p. 33).] [illustration: "strange old crosses that on all roads i have come upon" (p. 33).] [illustration: "their forms and sizes are varied" (p. 34).] [illustration: "none of the greater buildings attract me so strongly as those little village churches" (p. 40).] [illustration: "the altar is shut off from the rest of the building by a carved and painted screen" (p. 42).] each believer brings what he can: a scrap of green, a branch of blossoms, a handful of hyacinths, making the night sweet with their perfume, or a bunch of simple violets gathered along the wayside--first dear messengers of spring. when the service is over, in long processions the worshippers return to their homes, one and all carefully shading the tapers, for it is lucky to bring them lighted back to the house. no more light shines now from the church windows; all is swathed in darkness; the church itself stands out a huge mass of shade against the sky. but the graveyard beyond is a garden of light! have all the stars fallen from the heavens to console those lying beneath the sod? or is it only the tiny tapers still bravely burning, burning for the dead?... * * * * * there are some wonderful old churches in the country, stately buildings, rich and venerable, full of treasures carefully preserved from out the past. i have visited all these churches, inquiring into their history, admiring their perfect proportions, closely examining their costly embroideries, their carvings, their silver lamps, their enamelled crosses, their bibles bound in gold. but, in spite of their beauty, none of the greater buildings attract me so strongly as those little village churches i have hunted up in the far-away corners of the land. one part of the country is especially rich in these quaint little buildings: it is a part i dearly love. no railway desecrates its tranquil valleys, no modern improvement has destroyed its simple charm. here the hand of civilisation has marred no original beauty; no well-meaning painter has touched up the faded frescoes on ancient walls. a corner of the earth that has preserved its personality; being difficult to reach, it has remained unchanged, unspoilt. the axe has not felled its glorious forests, the enterprising speculator has built no hideous hotels, no places of entertainment; no monstrous advertisements disfigure its green meadows, its fertile inclines. therefore, also, have the tiniest little churches been preserved. they lie scattered about in quite unlikely places; perched on steep hill-tops, hidden in wooded valleys, often reflecting their quaint silhouettes in rivers flowing at their base. seen from afar, tall fir-trees, planted like sentinels before their porches, are the sign-posts marking the sites where they stand. the churches behind are so diminutive that from a distance the trees alone are to be seen. these fir-trees seemed to beckon to me, promising that i should find treasures hidden at their feet--they stand out darkly distinct in the landscape, for it is a region where the forests are of beeches, not of pines. often i wandered miles to reach them, over stony paths, over muddy ground, through turbulent little streams and endless inclines, and never was i disappointed; the dark sentinels never called me in vain. the most lovely little buildings have i discovered in these far-away places. some were all of wood, warm in colour, like newly baked brown bread, their enormous roofs giving them the appearance of giant mushrooms growing in fertile ground. there is generally a belfry on the top, but with some the belfry stands by itself in front of the church, and is mostly deliciously quaint of shape. indescribable is the colour the old wood takes on. it is always in harmony with its background, with its surroundings; be it on a green meadow, or against dark pines, be it in spring-time half concealed behind apple-trees in full bloom, be it in autumn when the trees that enclose it are all golden and russet and red. the wood is dark-brown, with grey lights that are sometimes silver. green moss often pads the chinks between the beams, giving the whole a soft velvety appearance that satisfies the eye. within, these rustic sanctuaries are toy copies of larger models; everything is tiny, but disposed in the same way. in orthodox churches the altar is shut off from the rest of the building by a carved and painted screen that nearly touches the roof, and is generally crowned by an enormous cross. at the lower part of these separations are the pictures of the most venerated saints. there are three small doors in these screens; during part of the service these doors remain closed. women have no right to penetrate within the holy of holies behind the screen. beautiful icons have i sometimes found in these forsaken little churches, carried there no doubt from greater ones when so-called improvements banished from their renovated walls the old-time treasures forthwith considered too shabby or too defaced. well do i remember one evening, after having climbed an endless way, i came at last to the foot of the pine-trees that had beckoned to me from afar, and how i reached the open door of the sanctuary at the very moment when the sun was going down. the day had been wet, but this last hour before dusk was trying by its beauty to make up for earlier frowns. the villagers, having guessed my intentions, had sent an old peasant to open the church. as i approached, the sound of a bell reached me, tolling its greeting into the evening air. [illustration: "the roofs are always of shingle" (p. 44).] the last rays of the sun were lying golden on the building as i reached the door. like dancing flames they had penetrated inside, spreading their glorious light over the humble interior, surrounding the saints' painted effigies with luminous haloes. it was a wondrous sight! on the threshold stood an old peasant, all in white, his hands full of flowering cherry-branches, which he offered me as he bent down to kiss the hem of my gown. within, the old man's loving fingers had lit many lights, and the same blossoms had been piously laid around the holiest of the icons, the one that each believer must kiss on entering the church. the sunlight outshone the little tapers, but they seemed to promise to continue its glory to the best of their ability when the great parent should have gone to rest.... sitting down in a shadowy corner, i let the marvellous peace of the place penetrate my soul, let the charm of this holy house envelop me like a veil of rest. the sun had disappeared; now the little lights stood out, sharp points of brightness against the invading dusk. hard it was indeed to tear myself away; but time, being no respecter of human emotions, moves on! outside the door an enormous stone cross stood like a ghost, its head lost amongst the snowy branches of a tree in full bloom. this cross was almost as high as the church.... varied indeed are the shapes of these peasant churches. when they are not of wood, like those i have just described, they are mostly whitewashed, their principal feature being the stout columns that support the porch in front. there is hardly a rumanian church without this front porch; it gives character to the whole; it is the principal source of decoration. sometimes the columns have beautiful carved capitals of rarest design; sometimes they are but solid pillars, whitewashed like the rest of the church. quaint indeed are the buildings that some simple-hearted artist has painted all over with emaciated, brightly robed saints. i have seen the strangest decorations of this sort: whole processions of archaic figures in stiff attitudes illustrating events out of their holy lives. then the front columns are also painted, often with quite lovely designs, closely resembling persian patterns in old blues and reds and browns. the roofs are always of shingle, with broad advancing eaves of most characteristic shape. a church have i seen in the middle of a maize field. the roof had fallen in, the walls were cracked, in places crumbling away, tall sunflowers peeped in at its paneless windows, and the birds built their nests amongst the beams of its ruined vaults. pitiable it was, indeed, to contemplate such desolation; yet never had i seen a more magical sight. the walls were still covered with frescoes, the colours almost unspoilt; the richly carved altar-screen still showed signs of gilding; hardly defaced were its many little pictures of saints. the stalwart pillars separating one part from the other stood strong and untouched except that in parts their plaster coating had crumbled away. quite unique was the charm of that ruin. the blue sky above was its roof, and the solemn saints stared down from the walls as if demanding why no kindly hand was raised to protect their fragile beauty from storm and rain. i know not why such a treasure was allowed to fall to pieces--perchance there is no time to look after old ruins in a country where so much has still to be done! indeed, the church was rarely fascinating, thus exposed to the light of the day, yet distressing was the thought that, if not soon covered in, the lovely frescoes would entirely fall away. there was a figure of the holy virgin that especially attracted my attention; she stared at me from her golden background with large, pathetic eyes. upon her knees the child christ sat, stiffly upright, one hand raised in blessing; the child was tiny, with a strange pale countenance and eyes much too large for its face. i could not tear myself away from this forsaken place of prayer; again and again i made the round of it, absorbing into my soul the picture it made. at last i left it, but many times did i turn round to have a last look. the sunflowers stood in tall groups, their heads bent towards the church as though trying to look inside; a flight of snow-white doves circled about it, their spotless wings flashing in the light. it was the last i saw of it--the ruined walls, and, floating above them, those snow-white doves. * * * * * much more would i delight to relate about these little churches. for me the topic is full of unending charm; but there are many things that i must still talk about, so regretfully i turn away to other scenes. the most lonely inhabitants of rumania are the shepherds--more lonely even than the monks in their cells, for the monks are gathered together in congregations, whilst the shepherds spend whole months alone with their dogs upon desolate mountain-tops. often when roaming on horseback on the summits have i come upon these silent watchers leaning on their staffs, standing so still that they might have been figures carved out of stone. [illustration: "varied indeed are the shapes of these peasant churches" (p. 44).] [illustration: "their principal feature being the stout columns that support the porch in front" (p. 44).] [illustration: "but with some the belfry stands by itself" (p. 41).] [illustration: "the columns have beautiful carved capitals of rarest design ... whitewashed like the rest of the church" (p. 44).] [illustration: "quaint indeed are the buildings that some simple-hearted artist has painted" (p. 44).] the great blue sky was theirs, and the marvellous view over limitless horizons; theirs were the shifting clouds, floating sometimes above their heads, sometimes rising like steam out of the chasms at their feet; theirs were also the silence and the sunsets, the sunrise and the little mountain flowers with their marvellous tints. but also the storm was theirs, and the rain, and the days of impenetrable mist; theirs was the wordless solitude unrelieved by human voice. these lonely mountain-dwellers become almost one in colour with the rocks and earth by which they are surrounded. enormous mantles do they wear, made of skins taken from sheep of their flock, fallen by the way. these shaggy garments give them a wild appearance resembling nothing i have ever seen; even tiny boys wear these extraordinary coats that cover them from head to foot, sheltering them from rain and storm, and even from the too ardent rays of the sun. their only refuges are dug-outs, half beneath the earth, of which the roofs are covered with turf, so that even at a short distance they can hardly be seen. here, in company with their dogs, they spend the long summer months, till the frosts of autumn send them and their flocks back to the plains. fierce-looking creatures are these shepherds, almost as unkempt as their dogs. solitude seems to have crept into their eyes, that look at you without sympathy, as though they had lost the habit of focusing them to the faces of men. a sore danger to the wanderer are those savage dogs, and often will their masters look on at the attacks they make upon the unfortunate intruder, without moving a finger in his defence. no doubt sometimes a poet's soul is to be found amongst these highland-watchers. he will then tell tales worth listening to, for nature will have been his teacher, the voices of the wilds have entered his heart. less unsociable is the shepherd tending his flock in greener pastures. he is less lonely; even when not living with a companion he receives the visits of passers-by--his expression is less grim, his eyes less hard, and the tunes he plays on his flute have a softer note. here the great-coat is discarded, but the "cioban's" attitude is always the same: be he on bare mountain pinnacles, or on juicy pastures near clear-flowing stream, or on the burning plains of the dobrudja where for miles around no tree is to be seen, the "cioban" stands, for hours at a time, both hands under his chin, leaning on his staff. he keeps no record of time; he stares before him, and slowly the hours pass over his head. once i had a curious impression. i was riding over some endless downs near the sea. nothing could be flatter than the landscape that stretched before me; the sea was a dead calm, resembling a mirror of spangled blue; the sand was white and dazzling; waves of heat rose from the ground, scorching my face; the entire world seemed to be gasping for breath. i alone was moving upon this immensity; sky, sea, and sand belonged to me. in spite of the suffocating temperature, my horse was galloping briskly, happy to feel the soft sand beneath his hoofs. i had the sensation of moving through the desert. all at once the animal became restive; he snorted through dilated nostrils, i felt him tremble beneath me; sweat broke out all over his body; suddenly he stopped short, and, swerving round unexpectedly, refused to advance! nothing was to be seen but a series of flat, curving sand-hills, with here and there a tuft of hard grass, or sprays of sea-lavender, bending beneath the overpowering heat, yet i also had an uncanny sensation, the curious feeling that something was breathing, as though the ground itself were throbbing beneath our feet. in a way i shared my horse's apprehension. what could it be? in spite of his reluctance, i pushed him forward, keeping a firm grip on the reins, as at each moment he tried to swing round. then i saw something strange appear on the horizon; a mysterious line undulating across one of the mounds, something that was alive. i had the keen perception that it was breathing, that it was even gasping for breath. all at once a man rose from somewhere and stood, a dark splotch, against the brooding heat of the sky. the man was a shepherd! then i understood the meaning of that weirdly palpitating line--it was his flock of sheep! stifled by the overwhelming temperature, they had massed themselves together, heads turned inwards, seeking shelter one from the other. finding no relief, they were panting out their silent distress. the "cioban" stood quite still, staring at me with stupefied indifference. i think that never before and never since have i had an acuter sensation of intolerable heat.... wherever i have met them, be it on the mountains or in the plains, on green pastures or on arid wastes, these silent shepherds have seemed to me the very personification of solitude, of mystery, of things unsaid. because of their lonely vigils amongst voiceless wilds, they have surely returned to a nearer comprehension of nature; perchance they have discovered strange secrets that none of us know! in autumn and early spring the shepherds lead their flocks back from the mountains. one meets them trudging slowly along the high-roads--a silent mass with a weather-beaten leader at their head, man and beast the colour of dust; foot-sore, weary, passive, knowing that their way is not yet at an end. [illustration: "these lonely mountain-dwellers" (p. 47).] fleeting visions of the wilds, wraiths come back from solitudes of which we know naught. the men with brooding faces and far-seeing eyes, the animals with hanging heads, come towards one out of the distance, pass, move away, and are gone ... leaving behind them on the road thousands and thousands of tiny traces that wind or rain soon efface.... * * * * * there is a wandering people known in every land--a people surrounded by mystery, whose origin has never been clearly established, a people that even in our days are nomads, moving, always moving from place to place. wherever they stray, the gipsies are looked upon with mistrust and suspicion; they are known to be thieves; their dark faces and flashing teeth at once attract and repel. there is a nameless charm about them, and yet aliens they are wherever they go. every man's hand is against them; nowhere are they welcome, ever must they move on and on homeless, despised, and restless, wanderers indeed on the face of the earth. yet there are places in rumania where those gipsies have settled down on the outskirts of villages or towns. there, in the midst of indescribable filth and disorder, they are massed together in tumble-down huts and dug-outs, half-naked, surrounded by squabbling children and savage dogs. their hovels are covered with whatever they can lay hand upon: old tins, broken boards, rags, clods of earth, torn strips of carpets; no words can render the squalor that surrounds them, the abject misery in which they swarm. i have never been able to discover if always the same gipsies live in these places, or if, after a time, they move on, leaving their nameless hovels to other wanderers, who for a time settle down and then depart, making place for those who still will come. i am inclined to think that in some cases these settlements are refuges where the wandering hordes seek shelter in winter, when snow-drifts and bitter frosts make the high-roads impracticable. yet also in summer have i seen families grovelling about in these sordid suburbs. infinitely more picturesque are the gipsy-camps. these strange people will pitch their tents in all sorts of places. on large fields used for pasture, on the edge of streams, sometimes on islands in the midst of river-beds, or on the border of woods. along the road they come, not in covered vans as we see them in tamer countries, but in dilapidated carts, drawn by lean, half-starved horses, sometimes by mules or patient grey donkeys. on these carts, amidst an indescribable jumble of poles, carpets, tent-covers, pots, pans, and other implements, whole families find place--mothers and children, old grannies and greybeards, little boys and bigger youths, regardless of the unfortunate animals that half succumb beneath the burden. they stop where they can, sometimes where they must--for many places are prohibited, and no one desires to have the thieving rascals too near their home. to me these camps have always been an unending source of interest. whenever, from afar, i have perceived the silhouettes of gipsy-tents, i have never failed to go there, and no end of impressions have i gathered amongst these wandering aliens. often have i watched the carts being unloaded; with much noise and strife the tent-poles are fixed in the ground, discoloured rags of every description are spread over them, each family erecting the roof beneath which it will shelter for awhile its eternal unrest. many and many a time have i roamed about amidst the tents of these jabbering, squabbling hordes of beggars, beset by hundreds of brown hands asking for pennies, surrounded by dark faces with brilliant eyes and snow-white teeth. half cringing, half haughty, they would demand money, laughing the while and shrugging their shoulders, fingering my clothes, slipping their fingers into my pockets; sometimes i have almost had the sensation of being assailed by a troop of apes. when on horseback they have nearly pulled me from the saddle, overwhelming me with strange blessings that often sounded more like curses or imprecations. but one wish that they cried after me was always gratefully accepted by my heart; it was the wish of "good luck" to my horse. being nomads, they appreciate the value of a good mount, and as from all time my horse has been my friend, such an invocation could not leave me unmoved; on those days, the pennies i scattered amongst them were given with a readier hand. the most beautiful types have i discovered amongst these people; at all ages they are inconceivably picturesque, so much so indeed that occasionally they seemed to have got themselves up with a view to effect. old hags have i seen crouching beneath their tents, bending over steaming pots, stirring mysterious messes with pieces of broken sticks. no old witch out of andersen's fairy-tales or the "arabian nights" could be compared to these weird old beings draped in faded rags that once had been bright, but that now were as sordid and ancient as the old creatures they only half clothed. gaudy bands of stuff were wound turban-wise round their heads, from beneath which strands of grey hair hung in dishevelled disorder over their eyes. generally a white-clay pipe was stuck in the corner of their mouths, for both the men and women smoke; in fact, smoke pervades the atmosphere about them, fumes of tobacco mixing with the more pungent smell of the fires lighted all over the camp. [illustration: "these shaggy garments give them a wild appearance" (p. 47).] [illustration: "their only refuges are dug-outs" (p. 47).] [illustration: "even tiny boys wear these extraordinary coats" (p. 47).] [illustration: "here, in company with their dogs, they spend the long summer months" (p. 47).] [illustration: "on juicy pastures near clear-flowing stream" (p. 48).] [illustration: "silent watchers leaning on their staffs" (p. 46).] [illustration: "wherever i have met them, be it on the mountains or in the plains, ... these silent shepherds have seemed to me the very personification of solitude" (p. 50).] these old crones are the respected members of the tribes. their loud curses call order to the young ones, throw a certain awe amongst the rowdy quarrelling children, who run about almost naked clamouring for alms, turning summersaults in the dust, tumbling about between one's feet. a sore trial to one's patience are these scamps, but at the same time a source of infinite delight to the eye, for extraordinarily beautiful are some of these grinning, screeching little savages, one with the colour of the earth; small bronze statues with curly, tousled heads, large eyes bordered by indescribable lashes, sometimes so long and curling that they appear to be black feathers at their lids. occasionally a torn shirt barely covers them, or their arms have been thrust into coats much too large, the sleeves dangling limply over their hands, giving them the appearance of small scarecrows come to life. never more enchanting are they than when gambolling about as god made them, for all attire a string of bright beads round their necks! these earth-coloured little waifs will run for miles beside one's carriage or horse, begging for coins with extended palms, whining over and over again the same complaint. most beautiful of all are the young girls: upright, well grown, with narrow hips and delicate hands and feet. whatever rag they twist about their graceful limbs turns into a becoming apparel. they will deck themselves with any discarded finery they may pick up by the way. sometimes valuable old pieces of embroidery will end their days upon the bodies of these attractive creatures, enhancing their charm, giving them the air of beggared queens. bright girdles wound round hips and waist keep all these rags in place, giving the wearer the look of egyptians such as we see painted on the frescoes of temple-walls. beneath the gaudy scarves which they tie on their heads plaits of hair hang down on both sides of their faces--plaits that are decorated with every sort of coin, with little splinters of coloured glass or metal, or strange-shaped charms or holy medals that jingle as they move about. round their necks hang long strings of gaudy beads that shine and glisten on their bronze-tinted skins. little modesty do these maidens show. they are loud and forward, shameless beggars, quite indifferent if their torn shirts leave neck and bosom half naked to the rays of the sun. with flashing white teeth they will smile at you, arms akimbo, head thrown back, a white pipe impudently stuck at the corner of their mouths. indescribably graceful are these girls coming back to the camp at evening, carrying large wooden water-pots on their heads. over the distance they advance, upright, with swinging stride, whilst the water splashes in large drops over their cheeks. the sinking sun behind them gives them the appearance of shadows coming from very far out of the desert where the paths have neither beginning nor end.... the men are no less picturesque than the women; they are covered with filthy rags, and are mostly barefooted. but tribes have i encountered less sordid, where the men wore high boots, baggy trousers, and shirts with wide-hanging sleeves. these belonged to more prosperous clans, the men particularly good-looking, with long curling hair hanging on both sides of their faces. evil-looking creatures no doubt, but uncannily handsome nevertheless. most gipsies are tinkers by profession, by instinct they are thieves. leaving their women-folk to look after the tents, the men will set out towards the villages, there to patch up pots and pans; often one meets them several in file carrying bright copper vessels on their backs. they grin at you, and never forget to stretch out a begging hand. others have studied the gipsies' habits, morals, and ways; i have only looked upon them with an artist's eye, and in that way they are an unending source of joy. inconceivable is the bustle and noise when a camp breaks up. the tent-poles are pulled out of the ground, the miserable horses that have been seeking scarce nourishment from the withered wayside grass are caught by the screeching children, who have easy work, as the unfortunate creatures are hobbled and cannot escape. resignedly they let themselves be attached to the carts, the tent-poles, carpets, pots and pans are once more transferred from the ground to the vehicles that will transport them to another place, and thus onwards ... without end.... the old crones are stowed away beneath all this baggage, and with them the children too small to walk, the feeble old men, the invalids, and those too foot-sore to tramp the weary way. a delightful picture did i once perceive. upon the back of a patient donkey numerous tent-poles had been tied; how so small a beast could carry them remains a mystery. between these poles several small naked babies had been fastened, their black eyes staring at me from beneath mops of tousled, unkempt curls. the donkey moved from place to place, grazing, the heavy poles bobbed about, one or the other touching the ground, raising little clouds of dust like smoke. no concern was to be read on the faces of the babies; this mode of transport was no doubt the usual thing. they looked like little brown monkeys brought from warmer climes.... [illustration: "on the burning plains of the dobrudja where for miles around no tree is to be seen" (p. 48).] [illustration: "stifled by the overwhelming temperature, they had massed themselves together" (p. 50).] i have often met old couples wandering together--men and women bent with age, weary, dusty, covered with rags, with pipes in their mouths; wretched vagrants, but always perfectly picturesque. no doubt they were going to tinker in some villages, for the men carried on their backs the inevitable copper pots, whilst the old hags had heavy sacks slung over their shoulders, a thick staff in their hands. along the sides of their earth-coloured checks grey plaits of hair hung limply down, swinging as they went. it was to me as though i had often met them before; i seemed to recognise their eyes, their weary look, even the shell, sign of the fortune-teller, that the women wore hanging from a string at their girdles; yet no doubt they were but samples of the many wanderers among this people who, homeless and foot-sore, are for ever roaming over the earth.... * * * * * one art above all others belongs to the gipsies. they are born musicians, and the violin is their instrument; even the smallest boy will be able to make it sing. some are musicians by profession. in groups of three and four they will wander from village to village, always where music is needed, patiently, tirelessly playing for hours and hours, in sun or rain, night or day, at marriages, funerals, or on feast-days. when in bands these wandering minstrels have other instruments besides violins. strange-shaped lutes, well known in rumanian literature as the "cobsa," and a flute composed of several reeds, the classical flute used in ages past by old father pan. mostly they are bronze-coloured old vagrants with melancholy eyes and bent backs, who are accustomed to cringe, and whose lean brown hands are accustomed to beg. discarding their picturesque rags, these wandering minstrels have adopted hideous old clothes that others have cast off. infinitely more mean-looking are they in this accoutrement; they have lost that indefinite charm that generally surrounds them; they are naught but sad old men clothed in ugly tatters, and are no more a delight to the eyes. welcome they are, nevertheless, for their music is both sweet and melancholy, strident and weird; there is a strange longing in every note, and the gayer the tunes become the more is one inclined to weep! an inexplicable cry of yearning lies in their every melody--is it a remembrance of far-off lands that once were theirs, and that they have never seen? or is it only an expression of the eternal nostalgia that drives them restlessly from place to place? one summer's evening i met a gipsy youth, coming towards me from out of the dust of the road. seated with bare, dangling legs on the back of a donkey, his violin under his chin, regardless of all else, he was playing ... playing to the sky above, to the stars that were coming out one by one, peeping down with pale wonder upon this lonely vagabond to whom all the road belonged.... playing because it was his nature to play ... playing to his heart that had not yet awakened ... playing to his soul that he could not fathom. * * * * * in towns the gipsies are used as masons. one finds them in groups wherever a house is being built, men, women, and children bringing with them their nameless disorder and their picturesque filth. of an evening, the work being done, they will prepare their supper, when, seated round the steaming pot, their many-coloured rags become radiant beneath the rays of the setting sun. often a mangy donkey is attached not far off, and in a basket, amidst a medley of metal pots of all sizes and shapes, lies a sleeping infant wrapped in a torn cloth. the donkey patiently bears his burden, flicking away the flies with his meagre tail. in the month of lilies handsome gipsy-girls will wander through the streets, carrying wooden vessels filled with snow-white flowers, the purity of the lilies strangely in contrast with their sun-tanned faces. in long, fragrant bunches they sell these flowers to the passers-by. at every corner one meets them, either crouching in picturesque attitudes on the pavement or standing upright beneath the shadowy angle of a roof, beautiful creatures with dark faces readily breaking into smiles that make their black eyes glisten and their white teeth flash. figures full of unconscious pride, visages at which one must look and always look again ... for they contain all the mystery of the many roads their feet have left behind! * * * * * it is the season of harvest that shows rumania in all her glory, that season when the labour of man meets its reward, when, the earth having given her utmost, man, woman, and child go forth to gather in the wealth that makes this country what it is. sometimes, indeed, it is an hour of disappointment, for rain, hail, or drought ofttimes undoes man's weary work. sometimes the earth has not responded to his dearest hopes, has not been able to bring forth her fruit. [illustration: "mothers and children, and old grannies" (p. 53).] [illustration: "small bronze statues with curly, tousled heads" (p. 55).] [illustration: "occasionally a torn shirt barely covers them" (p. 55).] [illustration: "most beautiful of all are the young girls" (p. 55).] [illustration: "inconceivably picturesque" (p. 54).] [illustration: "these are the respected members of the tribes" (p. 55).] [illustration: "i have often met old couples wandering together" (p. 58).] years have i known when, for months at a time, no drop of rain has fallen, when, like the people of old, we watched the sky in the ardent hope that the cloud as large as a man's hand would spread and burst into the showerso sorely needed--but the cloud passed and gave not the rain it promised; years when all that had been confided to the bosom of the earth withered and dried away because from april to september no drop had fallen, so that numbers of wretched cattle died for want of pasturage upon which to graze. terrible months of straining anxiety, of hopeless waiting that seemed to dry up the blood in one's veins, as the earth was parched from the want of rain. the rivers had no more water; the land of plenty becomes a land of sighs, the dust covering all things as with a shroud of failure.... but grand indeed are the years of plenty, when man's effort bears fruit. in oceans of ripe gold the corn lies beneath the immense face of the sun, proud of its plenty, a glorious hope fulfilled! and, from that vast plain of fertility, man's hand it is that reaps the ripe ears, that binds the sheaves, that gathers in the grain. ever again and again must i marvel at the patience of man's labour, marvel at his extraordinary conquest over the earth. in groups the peasants work from early dawn to sunset, unaffected by the pulsing heat beating down upon their heads. the men's snowy shirts contrast with the women's coloured aprons that stain the tawny plain with vivid spots of blue, red, or orange, for at the season of harvest no one remains idle--the very old and the disabled alone are left behind to guard the house. from hour to hour ceaselessly they toil, till midday gathers them round their carts for frugal repast of polenta and onions. pictures of labour, of healthy effort, of simple content! how often have i contemplated them with emotion, realising how dear this country had grown to my heart. watchful dogs guard the carts and those of the children too small to work; beneath the shade of these vehicles the labourers take a short hour's rest, alongside of their grey bullocks that in placid content lie chewing the cud, their enormous horns sending back the rays of the sun. lazily they swish their tails from side to side, keeping off the too busy flies that gather on their lean flanks and round their large, dreamy eyes. with slow turns of their heads they follow their masters' movements, well aware that their own effort must be taken up again at the hour of sunset when the labourers go home. only on rich estates is machinery used, and then mostly for threshing the corn; nearly all the cutting is done by hand. small gatherings of busy labourers crowd around the iron monster, whose humming voice can be heard from afar, and always rises the heap of grain till it stands, a burnished pyramid of gold, beneath the great blue sky. at sunset the peasants return home, their scythes over their shoulders, walking beside their carts heaped up with bright yellow straw. along the road they crawl, those carts, in a haze of dust. on wind-still evenings the dust remains suspended in the air, covering the world with a silvery gauze, enveloping the dying day in a haze of mystery that floats over man and beast, wiping out the horizon, toning down all colours, softening every outline. often the sinking sun sets this haze aflame; then the atmosphere becomes strangely luminous, as though a tremendous fire were burning somewhere behind fumes of smoke. indescribable is that hour; full of beauty, full of peace, full of the infinite satisfaction of work faithfully accomplished, the hour when all feet are turned homewards, turned towards rest. in never-ending file the carts follow each other, drawn by those grey-white oxen with the wondrous horns--along the road they come as though moving in a dream, that slowly passes in a cloud of dust and is gone; ... but the dust remains suspended like a veil drawn over a vision that is no more.... the maize-harvest comes later in the year, much later; sometimes in october the peasants are still gathering the ripe fruit. the days are short, and in the evening dampness rises out of the vast plain, and hovers like smoke beneath the glowing sky. an indescribable melancholy floats over the world, the melancholy of things come to an end. a great effort seems completed, and now the year has no more to do but to fall slowly to sleep.... yet nothing is more glorious than the rumanian autumn; nature desires to deck herself in a last mantle of beauty before confessing herself vanquished by the advancing of the winter season. the sky becomes intensely blue; all that stands up against it appears to acquire a new value. the trees dress themselves in wondrous colours, sometimes golden, sometimes russet, sometimes flaming red. amongst the man-high maize-plants, giant sunflowers stand bending their heads, heavy with the weight of the seeded centres; like prodigious stars their saffron petals shine against the azure vault. whole fields have i seen of these giant plants, real armies of sun-shaped flowers, triumphantly yellow beneath the rays of the great light they so bravely mimic. but often it seems to me that ashamedly they turn their faces away, sadly aware that they are but a sorry imitation of the one whose name they bear. oil is made out of the seeds of these flowers; therefore do the peasants cultivate them in such numbers. often beneath the shade of those giant plants have i seen peasants seated in circles round piles of maize, separating the fruit from the leaves. in dwarf pyramids of orange, the ripe cobs lie scattered about the wilting fields, their glorious colour attracting the eye from afar; often the women's kerchiefs are of the very same tint. [illustration: "a bare field where the soldiers exercised"] i love these flaming touches of colour amongst the arid immensities of reaped fields--lovingly the eye of the artist lingers to look at them, only unwillingly turning away. a pretty sight is also that of the peasant meetings, either in large barns or courtyards, to unsheathe the grain of maize from its cob. these are occasions of great rejoicing, when the young folk flock together, when laughter and work mingle joyously, when long yarns are told and love-songs are sung. the old crones sit around spinning or weaving, their heads nodding together over delectable gossip, one eye upon the youths and maidens, who, dressed in their brightest, with a flaring flower stuck behind the ear, ogle each other, and joke and kiss and are happy. the old gipsy "lautar," or wander-minstrel, is never absent from these meetings. from somewhere he is sure to come limping along, shabby, disreputable, a sordid figure with his violin or his "cobsa" under his arm; but his music is wonderful, making all hearts laugh, or dance, or weep. * * * * * too many pictures would i evoke, too many visions rise before my brain--both time and talent fail me--so grudgingly must i turn away and leave these simple people to their work and their play, to their joys and their pains, their hopes and their fears. i leave them to their peaceful homes--a veil of dust lying over. the end postscript rumania, like the other small nations, is paying a bloody price for her vindication of the principles of right--the bedrock of the allied cause. her plucky intervention in the great war, notwithstanding what had befallen belgium, serbia and montenegro; the implicit faith of her people in the righteousness of the allied cause; and the gallantry of her troops excite the admiration of all the free races. the british red cross society and order of st. john has rendered great assistance on the battlefields of rumania with hospitals well staffed and medical supplies. we owe a debt to rumania. every copy of my country sold adds to _the times_ fund for sick and wounded, for which purpose this tribute by queen marie to the little-known natural and architectural beauties of her country is published. should any reader, as a result of this book, desire to send a further contribution, this may be addressed to the publishers, messrs. hodder & stoughton, st. paul's house, warwick square, london, e.c., _marked_ my country, and will be duly acknowledged in the columns of _the times_. _december 1916._ printed in great britain by hazell, watson and viney, ld., london and aylesbury. transcriber's note -plain print and punctuation errors fixed. [transcriber's note: bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.] our little turkish cousin the little cousin series (trade mark) each volume illustrated with six or more full page plates in tint. cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover per volume, 60 cents list of titles by mary hazelton wade, mary f. nixon-roulet, blanche mcmanus, clara v. winlow, florence e. mendel and others our little african cousin our little alaskan cousin our little arabian cousin our little argentine cousin our little armenian cousin our little australian cousin our little austrian cousin our little belgian cousin our little bohemian cousin our little boer cousin our little brazilian cousin our little bulgarian cousin our little canadian cousin our little chinese cousin our little cossack cousin our little cuban cousin our little danish cousin our little dutch cousin our little egyptian cousin our little english cousin our little eskimo cousin our little french cousin our little german cousin our little grecian cousin our little hawaiian cousin our little hindu cousin our little hungarian cousin our little indian cousin our little irish cousin our little italian cousin our little japanese cousin our little jewish cousin our little korean cousin our little malayan (brown) cousin our little mexican cousin our little norwegian cousin our little panama cousin our little persian cousin our little philippine cousin our little polish cousin our little porto rican cousin our little portuguese cousin our little russian cousin our little scotch cousin our little servian cousin our little siamese cousin our little spanish cousin our little swedish cousin our little swiss cousin our little turkish cousin the page company 53 beacon street, boston, mass. [illustration: osman.] our little turkish cousin by mary hazelton wade _illustrated by_ l. j. bridgman [illustration] boston the page company _publishers_ _copyright, 1904_ by l. c. page & company (incorporated) _all rights reserved_ published june, 1904 fourth impression, july, 1908 fifth impression, march, 1910 sixth impression, november, 1912 seventh impression, october, 1917 preface in europe and asia there are two countries separated from each other by a narrow strip of water. one of these is spoken of as turkey in europe, and the other as turkey in asia. they are held together under one ruler called the sultan. he has absolute power over his people, and can do with them as he likes. one word from his lips is enough to cause the death of any of his subjects. none dare to disobey him. it is because his rule is not the best and wisest, and also because his kingdom is always in danger from the countries around it, that the sultan is often spoken of as "the sick man of europe." our little turkish cousin lives in the city of constantinople, not far from the sultan's palace. he does not understand why some of his people live in wealth and luxury, while so many others spend their lives in begging for the food and clothing they must have. he has no thought but that the sultan of turkey is as great and noble as the ruler of any other land. the child is brought up to love ease and comfort, the daintiest food and the richest clothing. he feels sorry for the poor and the homeless, but he does not know how to truly help them. he hears little about other countries where every one is free and can claim just treatment as his right. but as he grows older he may, perhaps, think for himself, and do some noble deed to save his country and make his people better and happier. let us open the doors of our hearts to him, and let him feel our love and sympathy. contents chapter page i. osman 1 ii. school 12 iii. the fire 22 iv. the picnic 33 v. gipsies 54 vi. a turkish bath 67 vii. the wedding 85 viii. the children's carnival 92 ix. the two friends 101 list of illustrations page osman _frontispiece_ osman and his mother 17 "it looked almost like a fairy city" 39 "'she told me he would be my husband'" 58 "through the crowd of busy people" 75 "they came in sight of the mosque at last" 96 our little turkish cousin chapter i. osman of course osman cannot remember his first birthday. he is a big boy now, with brown eyes and soft, dark hair. ten years have rolled over his head since he lay in the little cradle by the side of his mother's grand bedstead. he made an odd picture,--this tiny baby in cotton shirt and quilted dressing-gown. his head was encased in a cap of red silk. a tassel of seed-pearls hung down at one side. several charms were fastened to the tassel. his mother thought they would keep harm and danger away from this precious baby boy. he could not have felt very comfortable. his nurse had straightened out his arms and legs, and bound them tightly with bandages. after dressing him, she placed him in his little bed and covered him with several quilted wrappers. last of all, a thin, red veil was spread over this little turkish baby. do you think he could have enjoyed himself very much? i don't. he was ready for visitors now. first of all, the proud and delighted father must come in to see his child. a boy, too! the grave man was doubly pleased when he thought of this. as he looked for the first time upon the tiny form done up in so many wrappers, he could hardly tell whether the boy was big or little, fat or thin. he bent down over the cradle and lifted the child into his own strong arms. holding him tenderly, he carried him from the room. he stopped just outside the door. there he stood for a few moments while he repeated a short prayer and whispered the name "osman" three times in the baby's ear. this was the only christening the turkish boy would ever receive. osman would be his name for the rest of his life; and a fine name it was, his mother and friends all agreed. when the baby was three days old, there was a grand celebration at his home. certain old women, called "bringers of tidings," went from one house to another where the lady friends of osman's mother had their homes. wherever they stopped, these old women left bottles of sherbet made of sugar-candy, spices, and water. as they presented the sherbet, they told of the good news about the new baby, of the name his father had given him, and of the feast to be held at osman's home. "do come, do come. you will surely be welcome. you will be glad to see the child and rejoice with his mother." in this way the invitations were given; and so it happened that many ladies found their way to osman's house on the day named. no special hour was set for their visit. but, from morning till night, people were coming and going. it was easy enough for passers-by to know something of interest was taking place inside. they could hear the band of music playing lively airs as the ladies drove up to the door and entered the house. all the visitors wore long cloaks, with veils over their faces, hiding everything except their soft, dark eyes. for it is still the fashion in turkey that no lady shall be seen away from her home with her face uncovered. very few of these visitors came alone. they were attended by their slaves and servants, laden with baskets. these baskets were very pretty. they were trimmed with flowers and ribbons, and filled with all sorts of delicious sweets. of course they were presents for the new baby's mother. she lay in her grand state bed, smiling softly as the ladies came up, one by one, to greet her. before they entered her chamber, they took off their veils and cloaks in an outside room. "mashallah! may the child live long and be happy," said the visitors, as they bent over the young mother. at each kind wish, she kissed the hands of the speaker. this was her way of thanking them. strange to say, the ladies seemed hardly to notice the baby himself, in whose honour they had come to the house. do not think for a moment they had forgotten the tiny bundle done up in quilted cotton. no, indeed. but the anxious mother believed some bad fortune might come to osman if he were examined too closely. she would worry if her friends should fondle the child or pay him much attention. this is the reason most of them pretended not to see him. a few, however, were so curious they could not resist stopping for a moment at the cradle. but, instead of saying, "oh, the darling little fellow!" or, "what a bright-looking child!" or other kind words, they exclaimed, "the ugly little creature!" "what stupid eyes he has!" or some such unpleasant thing. would you believe it? osman's mother seemed really pleased as she listened. she said to herself, "well, if they praised my child, i should think they were trying to hide some bad wish. that very wish would bring an accident to my darling, sooner or later. no, i like best to hear them speak as they do. i know they do not mean what they say." the visitors were in no hurry to leave osman's home. they made themselves comfortable on the soft couches. they laughed and chatted together while they ate ices and rich cakes, and sipped coffee or sherbet. the refreshments were of many kinds, for the baby's father was rich and held a high office under the sultan, as the ruler of turkey is called. if osman had been born in a poor family, his parents would have had a celebration just the same. the feast would not have been as rich, but coffee and fruits would have been served, at any rate, and the visitors would probably have enjoyed themselves just as much. when osman was eight days old, there was another great ceremony at his house. he received a bath. the ladies who were invited could join in the bath if they liked, as well as his mother. there would be music and refreshments and a general good time. the baby was bathed first. his mother's turn came next. a turkish bath is not like that of other people, as perhaps you have heard. a long time is spent before it is finished. on this great day in osman's life, it was even longer than usual. many songs were sung, and the visitors stopped several times to eat refreshments. all this sounds odd to us, but the rich ladies of turkey have little to do except to ride and make calls, bathe in their own homes or at the public bath-houses, meet together for picnics or some entertainment. osman grew so fast it seemed to his mother only a short time before he was able to toddle about without the help of his nurse. the carpets were soft and thick, so he did not get hurt even if he fell. the beautiful colours of the carpets amused his baby eyes. he was awake every morning soon after sunrise, but this did not trouble his parents. they were early risers, too. the boy's father liked to have plenty of time for sipping coffee and smoking his pipe before leaving home for the day. there was no such thing as breakfast. the family ate only two real meals in the whole day. but the early morning was a pleasant time. there was no jumping up from the table after a hasty meal. there was no rushing for the train after a hurried kiss and goodbye to wife and baby. oh, no, none of these things are done in turkey. osman's father dressed himself in a comfortable, loose gown, and seated himself cross-legged on a rug. he clapped his hands and a slave appeared with the steaming coffee, which was placed on a low stand near by. then the baby's mother poured out the coffee and, handing it to her husband, sat down on a cushion at his feet. osman, still in his nightclothes, toddled about, nibbling a sweet-cake. the slave who had brought the coffee was now busy in tidying the room. first of all, mattresses and wadded coverlets must be stowed away in a cupboard. there was no bedstead. such a clumsy piece of furniture had been used in the house but once. that was when the young mother lay in state to receive her friends when osman was born. would you believe it! the baby's mother was still wearing her wadded night-dress. she often kept it on for hours after she got up in the morning. "it is so comfortable," she thought. "why should i hurry to dress myself for the day?" after the coffee, the father took his pipe and lighted it with a tiny piece of charcoal. now for a comfortable smoke. as he puffed away at his pipe, the room was quiet except for little osman's prattle. he was trying to tell his father and mother about his play-things. after a while the sober turk laid down his pipe, and said, "it is time for business." the dressing-gown was taken off, and street clothes were put on. what a grand-looking gentleman he was now, with his long beard hanging over his snow-white shirt-front, his embroidered vest, and wide, loose trousers. he lifted osman up for a kiss, and, with a deep bow to his wife, he left home for the day. chapter ii. school "mamma, mamma, i am so glad it has come at last!" said little osman, early one bright spring morning. "yes, yes, my darling," answered his mother. "it is a good time; i am glad, too." what made osman wake up sooner than usual this morning? what caused his eyes to look so bright? why was the nurse taking such pains with his hair and dress? he was going to school for the first time in his life. his sixth birthday had come and gone, and his father had said: "it is time for my little boy to do something besides play. he must learn to read our good books, and understand the use of numbers." the important day was set and the teacher was told about the new pupil. word was also sent to the priest. osman's father spent some time in choosing a pony on which his boy should first ride to school. at last he decided on one of an iron-gray colour and very handsome. "what beautiful trappings!" exclaimed osman, when the pony arrived at the door. "oh, you dear, kind father to get them!" any boy would be pleased to ride on a pony decked out in such a gay manner. the pony had no sooner arrived than the whole school appeared at the door. the children were dressed in their best clothes to do honour to the new pupil. the priest took his place in front of the young company. they instantly bent low while he made a short prayer. after this, osman was lifted to the back of the pony, the other children formed in double line, and the procession started out for the school. but it did not move quietly. hymn after hymn was sung by the little ones in strong, clear voices as they went along. the grown-ups whom they passed smiled and said to themselves, "a child is on his way to school for the first time. it is a glad day. may he grow wise and be happy." what an odd-looking schoolroom it was that osman soon entered; neither seats nor desks could be seen. three divans, as the big, soft turkish couches are called, stood along the wall. the children squatted cross-legged on these, side by side. after they had taken their places, the teacher sat down in front of his little class and began to hear their lessons. each child had by this time opened his book and begun to recite. not one of them at a time. oh, no, indeed! they spoke together in high, sharp voices. how could the schoolmaster understand what they said? he did not seem to have any trouble, however, and kept the children busy. they read from the koran, which is the sacred book of their people, they recited numbers, and they wrote. you remember they had no desks. the poor little things had to hold their copy-books in their laps, and it was tiresome work. their pens were made of reeds, and sponges took the place of ink-wells. before the children were dismissed, the master told them a story which interested osman very much. [illustration: osman and his mother.] "i will repeat it to my mother," he said to himself. "the story teaches us not to seem surprised, no matter what may happen. my father has spoken of this very thing. it is not polite to be astonished. that is what he has often said." as the little boy rode homeward, he saw a man sitting cross-legged at the street corner. two veiled women stood in front of him. they were eagerly watching the man as he wrote. from time to time he stopped as one of the women told him something more she wished him to put into the letter. "he is a street scribe," thought osman. "they will pay him for that letter. they do not know how to write. that is why they get him to do it. how quickly he makes the letters, and how easily he holds his pen. i hope it won't be long before i can write as well as he does." such a scribe is often seen in the streets of constantinople, the city where osman lives. there are many people there who can neither read nor write. fine ladies are not ashamed to stop at a scribe's little stand and ask him to write letters for them, as these people were doing. osman's school was only a short distance from home, and he was soon at his own gate. the moment he arrived, the door was opened by an old black slave, who had been watching for the darling of the house. "i'd like to stop and tell you what i've been doing this morning, but i can't now," said osman. "i must tell mother first." the little boy ran up the stairs to his mother's rooms. in another moment he was seated on a divan beside her and talking faster than one often hears among the quiet people of his country. lunch was soon brought, and, you may be sure, the little boy was ready for it. there was a dish of pilaf, of course. it was made of nicely cooked rice and butter, and was delicious. then there was a juicy melon, and fresh figs, besides cakes sweetened with honey, candy, and many other nice things. osman's mother is as fond of sweet things as her little boy, and she is ready to eat them at any time. the lunch was served at an odd little table. indeed, it could hardly be called a table,--it was a small, low stand, about eight inches above the floor. the dishes were brought in one at a time, and placed on the stand. osman and his mother ate the pilaf with their fingers, from the same dish. but they did not hurry. the grains of rice were picked up so daintily with their finger-tips, they were hardly soiled by the touch of the food. "we will wash now," osman's mother said, as the lunch was finished. a queer basin was at once brought by a servant, and held in front of the lady. in the middle of the basin was a little stand holding a cake of soap, while underneath was a sort of well. this was to receive the water as it left the basin. as osman's mother held out her hands, one servant slowly poured the water over them, while another held an embroidered towel ready for her use. it was osman's turn next. no matter how much he wished to hurry out to play, he must not rise from his cushion till his hands were bathed. "wash before eating and afterward," is a law of the koran. osman thinks it would be as wicked to break this rule as to tell a wrong story, or take anything belonging to another. as soon as the hand-washing was over, the little boy started for the courtyard to watch his tame pigeons and play with his friend selim. osman's house is divided into two parts. his father's rooms are down-stairs. a separate door leads into them from the street. no woman ever enters these rooms. even the servants who take care of them are men. the boy's father receives his gentlemen friends in this part of the house. it is here that he talks over business with his visitors. sometimes he holds dinner-parties in these rooms, but they are only for men. he even has a separate courtyard and garden. osman may come here if he likes, but the real home of the family is up-stairs in his mother's rooms. this part of the house is very beautiful. rich curtains hang in the doorways. soft and heavy rugs are placed here and there on the floors. divans with soft cushions stretch along the sides of the walls, under the latticed windows. yes, every window is covered with lattice-work, so that no one passing along the street below can see the faces of the persons within these upper rooms. this is the fashion of the country. poor women of turkey! they seem to us almost like prisoners, but they have been brought up to think of their life as the most natural and best in the world. they may go outdoors whenever they like, so long as a veil is worn over the face. but no man, unless he is a very near relative, must enter the part of the house where the women and children have their home. chapter iii. the fire "listen, listen, osman. what is all the noise about?" exclaimed selim. it was toward the end of the afternoon, and both boys were growing tired of play. "it's a fire. don't you see the police? they are hurrying along with pails of water on their heads. then, look quickly down the street! smoke is coming out of that building. let's ask nurse to go with us." in another moment osman had run into the house and out again, with old black fatima trotting after as fast as she could move. she hurriedly pulled her veil over her face. then, taking each boy by the hand, she led them through the gate, and joined the crowd of people who were going in the direction of the fire. everybody looked gay and happy. why shouldn't they have a good time? the fire did not happen through any fault of theirs. it would be a grand sight, and the onlookers might as well enjoy it. there were no fire-engines in the city. the policemen brought pails of water, but these did little good. and now, not only columns of smoke are bursting through the windows and doorways, but flames are leaping and dancing along the openings. see! those who are still inside the burning house are throwing out cushions and mats, curtains and pillows, into the street. such furnishings can be saved, even if the building is destroyed. the watching crowd seize these articles and at once make themselves comfortable. a number of women sit down on a pile of soft rugs and prepare to enjoy the show, as if they were at the theatre. not far off is a group of men, who stand chatting and smoking. the balconies of neighbouring houses are filled with gazing crowds. the street peddlers soon begin to arrive. they bring trays of sweetmeats, sherbets, and other good things. as they elbow their way through the crowd, they act as though the fire had been started on purpose to give them a chance to sell their goods. still the fire rages; the timbers creak; the walls begin to totter; the roof gives way, and falls inward with a crash. in a few moments more, only a heap of charred wood is left in the place of a fine house. it might have been saved if firemen could have been here with their engines. but they are unknown, as yet, in this great city of the turks, where many buildings are destroyed by fire every year. "come, come, children," said fatima, "it is late. the shadows are beginning to fall. osman, your father is surely home by this time and will wonder where you are." while the old woman hurried the boys along, they ate fig-paste they had bought of a peddler. no doubt you, children of other lands, have eaten fig paste, too. but perhaps you have never thought of the people who invented it. it is a turkish sweetmeat, and osman thinks it is delicious when freshly made by a candy merchant in his city. "the fire has waked up every dog in this quarter," said fatima, fretfully, as she hurried the children along. she was right in saying so, for "bow-wow-wow, bow-wow-wow," could be heard in every direction. even as she spoke, the old nurse stumbled against a big dog that was rushing past her and barking furiously. "hurry up, old fellow! catch him, catch him!" cried osman, turning around to watch. "fatima, don't you see what is the matter? he is driving a strange dog out of the street. i hope he will succeed." just as osman spoke, a half-dozen other dogs came tearing along, eager to join in the chase. there was small chance for the stranger, who was now running with all his might. his tongue was hanging from his mouth, and his tail was thrashing from side to side between his legs. poor homeless dogs of constantinople! there are thousands of them. yes, it is the very truth. there are scores of thousands of them. those big, gaunt, yellow creatures live in the streets and byways, under the door-steps and in the graveyards. they feed on the garbage thrown out from the kitchens, but sometimes get a little choicer food through the kindness of the people. "kill a dog without real need of doing so! no, no," osman's father would say, very solemnly. "it is the law of our religion that we should kill nothing living if we can possibly help it. let the dogs live. "besides, they are useful creatures. they keep our streets clean of all decaying matter. by doing this, fevers and many other kinds of illness are prevented. the poor animals are a real blessing." "i know where there are some new-born puppies," said selim, as he was leaving osman for the night. "where? let's go and see them now. is it near here?" cried his little friend. "yes, it's only a few steps." "no, no, children," broke in fatima, "you ought to be in your own homes this very moment. wait till morning, and i will go with you before school-time." "are their eyes open yet? does their mother seem fond of them? how many are there?" asked osman. but fatima did not give selim a chance to answer. she had already rung the bell at the door of his house, and a servant had appeared to take charge of him. so, without stopping for anything except a kind wish to selim for his peace and happiness, she led her own little charge home. his father had reached there before him, and was all ready to talk over the day's doings with his only child. as the turk sat smoking that evening, osman described the fire he had seen, and told of the hunted dog he had met on the way home. "he ought to have known better than to come into a strange quarter," said the boy. "it was all he could expect. any dog that remains at home is not troubled by the others. i love the creatures; don't you, papa? they are gentle and quiet and clever." "yes, osman, the city would not seem like home without our yellow-haired dogs. before you were born, however, the sultan thought it would be wise to clear our streets of them. great numbers were taken to an island near the coast." "did they die there from want of food, papa?" "oh, no. they were too wise to stay there and starve. they all swam back to the city. our people were so pleased, the dogs have never been troubled since then." "i love the dogs because they are not only gentle, but they do not forget a kindness. they are grateful creatures," said osman's mother. "i have a friend who told me the story of an english lady living here in our city. she had a small terrier she had brought back with her after a visit to england. "i suppose, osman, you know that our dogs are always ready to attack one of a different breed?" "yes, mamma." "well, it happened one day that this little terrier escaped from his home and got out into the street among the dogs of the city." "did they kill him?" "no, indeed. but they had a reason for being friendly to him. the english lady and her family had always been kind to them, and had often fed them. not only this, but she had seen that pans of water were placed in the street on hot days, so the dogs should not suffer from thirst. they were grateful to her, and seemed to feel that her pet terrier was also a friend. "after this, the lady allowed her dog to play with the others as much as he liked. he was always well treated. but he did not have sense enough to keep in his own street one day he wandered off into another quarter, and he was instantly attacked. his dog friends heard the noise and rushed after him. when they got to him, he was surrounded on all sides by his enemies. "it would have gone hard with him, if one brave friend had not seized him by the neck and rushed home with him. he did not stop till he reached the lady's house, where he dropped the terrier on the door-step. "even then, he and his comrades did not go away. there they waited till the owner appeared, when they tried to explain, as well as poor doggies can, what had happened." "what noble fellows they were," said osman, when his mother had finished the story. "i shall love them more than ever." then the little boy went on to tell of the family of puppies selim had discovered. "i will go to see them early to-morrow morning, and will carry some food to the mother," he said. "i love puppies. they are beautiful little things, and their hair is as soft as silk." osman loved pets as much as any other boy in the wide world, and he was always ready to take a family of puppies into his heart. his parents taught him, however, that it was not good to handle them. "the dog is an unclean animal," said the boy's father. "be kind to him and love him, but touch him as little as possible." chapter iv. the picnic it was a beautiful summer day. the sun was shining brightly on the glossy leaves of the olive-trees in osman's garden, and the plants were loaded with blossoms. osman had just picked a bunch of flowers when he heard his mother's voice. "how would you like a day by the sweet waters of europe, my child?" the little boy looked in the direction of the voice. his mother was moving slowly down the garden path. "that would be lovely, mamma, but can't selim go with us?" "certainly, and i have sent word to some of my friends to join us, too. we will have a merry time. i am tired of the house, and i long for a row on the beautiful river. let fatima go for selim, and make yourself ready at once." the little boy's mother was already dressed for the excursion. so, while the servants were preparing the lunch and osman was getting ready, she sat down on a cushion under the trees and idly waited. she was richly clad in a pink silk mantle with wide sleeves and deep cape. it was so long it reached down to her ankles. a small, bright-coloured cap, trimmed with pearls, was fitted closely to her head. the thin muslin veil, fastened to this cap, was brought around her face so no part of it could be seen except her soft, kind eyes. she did not have long to wait before her friends and selim arrived to join in the day's outing. the slaves, with wraps and carpets, were also ready, and, at a sign from their mistress, the party started out. how queerly the ladies walked! they waddled along in a clumsy fashion with their skirts tucked up under their mantles and around their waists. they looked like shapeless bundles moving along in loose trousers and clumsy overshoes. it was only a few steps to the waterside, where boats were waiting for them. the boatmen first helped the ladies to get in and seat themselves on soft cushions; next came the two boys, and, last of all, the servants. when every one was comfortably settled, and umbrellas had been raised over the ladies' heads to protect them from the strong sunlight, the men bent to their oars and they were off. the boats were light and very graceful. they were of a kind the turks call kaiks. they sped onward through the water as the men gave long, strong pulls at the oars. on and on they went, now rapidly as the river widened; again, they moved more slowly as they entered a narrow stretch of water, almost filled with the boats of other pleasure-seekers. sometimes they were obliged to pass under a little wooden bridge. then it was fun for osman and selim to reach up and see if they could touch the floor of the bridge before they left it behind them. pretty houses stood here and there on the banks of the river, or groves of trees that seemed to say, "stop here and rest awhile. i will give you shade and comfort." but still the rowers kept on, as though their arms would never get tired. they did not speak, these sober-faced men. each wore a red fez on his head, which made him look hot and uncomfortable in the strong sunshine. there was a time when all turks wore soft turbans, which are the best and most comfortable covering for the head. but times are changed now. the great sultan likes the fez best, and the turban is seen more and more seldom as the years pass by. at last the party reached a spot where osman's mother decided to stop. it was a favourite picnic-ground for the people of constantinople. a pretty grove of trees was growing close to the shore, while, near by, tiny coffee-houses stood here and there in the meadows. "i hear sweet music," said osman. "listen, mamma." "yes, it is a wandering player. after we get settled, we will pay him to play for us," answered his mother. the ladies made themselves comfortable on the rugs their servants spread under the trees. the children wandered about as they liked. [illustration: "it looked almost like a fairy city."] "sweet waters of europe" is a good name for this part of the river. it was a pleasant place, and everything about them looked fresh and inviting. "osman, let's see what that man is showing," cried selim, after the boys had listened to some music and eaten the ices they had bought at a stand. the children joined a crowd of people gathering around a showman. it was a puppet-show, something like the punch and judy one sees in england and america. but the funny little figures acted out a very different play. it must have been amusing, for every one laughed heartily. before the day was over other showmen came along, each with a different exhibition of his own. then there were men who performed tricks, and others who had candies and dainties to sell. as for the ladies, you must not think they sat quietly on their mats all day long. oh, no indeed! they laughed and romped, they sang and danced, they ate candies and cakes as freely as the children themselves. the serious ways of the city were quite forgotten. but at last the shadows of evening began to fall. "come, come, we must start for home," cried osman's mother. "i must certainly be home by sunset to greet my husband." they made haste to start, and in a few minutes they had taken their places in the boats and were moving back toward the great city. as it came into view once more, it looked almost like a fairy city. the soft light of the late afternoon bathed the tall spires and minarets, which reached up toward the sky like long, slender needles. here and there were grand buildings of white marble, while the whole place was dotted with groves of dark cypress-trees. yes, it looked very, very beautiful, but when the boats were left behind, and the narrow, dirty streets were reached again, it did not seem possible it could be the same place the party had seen from the water. there was no likeness to fairy-land now. the hungry dogs, the ragged beggars, the tumble-down houses in the very midst of the fine buildings, make the stranger feel sad. but osman is so used to these sights, they do not trouble him. this city, the greatest one of his people, always seems grand and beautiful to him. on the evening after the picnic, osman's mother said to her husband, "i have invited a party of my friends to lunch with me to-morrow." the turks do little visiting after sunset. the ladies often spend the day with each other, but are seldom away from home at dinner-time. the next morning, after their master had gone away for the day, and osman had started for school, the servants began to make ready for the party. as soon as the first guest arrived, a pair of shoes belonging to osman's mother was placed outside the door of her room. if her husband should happen to come home during the day, he would see these shoes. he would know by this sign that his wife had lady visitors. it would not be polite for him to enter her rooms during their stay in the house. the lunch-hour soon came. the hostess led her friends into the dining-room. they seated themselves on the soft cushions placed by the servants around the low stand. there was a spoon, and also a piece of bread, at each lady's place. on the centre of the stand was a leather pad on which hot dishes would be set as they were brought in. but when the ladies sat down there was no food to be seen, except the pieces of bread, some saucers containing olives, bits of cucumber, melons, and radishes. and now the slaves moved from one guest to another, bringing a basin of water and towels. each one must bathe her hands before eating, as well as afterward, whether alone or in the grandest company. it was a pleasure to watch them. as the stream of clear water fell slowly into the basin, each one rubbed her fingers gracefully and daintily, and then dried them on the fine linen towel held out by the watchful servant. when this had been done by every one, osman's mother clapped her hands, and a tureen of thick, creamy soup was brought in and set on the leather pad. the hostess politely waved her hand toward her principal guest. she was inviting her to be the first one to dip her spoon into the soup. after this, the other ladies joined in, all eating together from the same dish. after a few mouthfuls, the hostess made a sign to the slave to remove the soup and bring in another dish. before the meal was over there would be sixteen courses, at least, and, therefore, it would not be well to eat much of any one of them. the guests ate a little of every course. but, between the courses, they nibbled at the olives, cucumbers, and different sweetmeats. more than once, osman's mother broke off a choice bit of food with her fingers, and held it up to the mouth of one of her friends. it was a very polite attention, and her visitor was pleased. "how rude some people in the world are about eating," said one of the ladies. "they use the most clumsy things in their hands. they call them knives and forks. and besides, i have heard they do not wash before and after each meal. ugh! it makes me shiver to think of their unclean ways." "yes, they are certainly not neat, and they are very awkward, if all i have heard about them be true," said another visitor. "they should study the ways of our people." at last the luncheon was ended. the hostess led the way into the drawing-room, where coffee was now served. they were having a merry time, laughing and chatting, when osman entered the room. his face showed he had something he wished to tell. making a low bow to the ladies, he turned to his mother and said: "oh, mamma, i just saw a cat fall ever so far. she was on the roof of that old building behind our house. she fell down, down to the ground. and, mamma, i thought she would be killed. but she came down softly on her feet and ran off as if she hadn't been hurt the least bit. how is it that a cat can do such a thing? no other animal is like her, i'm sure." his mother laughed, and turned to one of her friends. "won't you tell my little boy the story of mohammed and the cat?" she asked. "we should all be pleased to listen, and perhaps there are some here who do not know it." the rest of the company nodded their heads. "yes, do tell it," said one after another. "very well, little osman," said the lady whom the boy's mother had asked. "you shall have the story. i trust you will remember it whenever you think of the holy prophet. "mohammed once travelled a long, long distance over the desert. he became very tired, and at last he stopped to rest. as he did so, he fell fast asleep. "then, sad am i to tell it, a wicked serpent glided out from among the rocks and drew near the prophet. it was about to bite him, when a cat happened to come along. she saw the serpent and what it was about to do; she rushed upon it and struggled and fought. the serpent defended itself with all its strength and cunning, too. great was the battle. but the cat killed the snake. "as it was dying, the wicked creature hissed so horribly that the noise awakened mohammed, and he saw at once that the cat had saved his life. "'come here,' he said. as the cat obeyed him, the holy man stroked her lovingly three times. three times he blessed her, saying these words: "'may peace be yours, o cat. i will reward you for your kindness to me this day. no enemy shall conquer thee. no creature that lives shall ever be able to throw thee on thy back. thou art indeed thrice blessed.'" "and is this the reason a cat always falls on her feet?" asked osman. "even so, my little friend. perhaps after this story you will feel more loving toward those soft-footed creatures," said the lady. osman made a low bow and thanked her for her kindness in telling the story. he was about to leave the room when another of the visitors reached out her hand and softly patted his shoulder. "sit down beside me, my child. i have a story to tell the company. stay and hear it, if your dear mother is willing." "may i, mamma?" he asked. "certainly, osman, if you are good and quiet." the little boy at once settled himself beside the lady who had asked him to stay. this is the story he heard. the wood-cutter and fortune once upon a time there was a wood-cutter who lived in the forest with his wife and two children. he was very poor. day after day, and year after year, he went out into the midst of the wood and worked hard chopping down the trees and cutting them up for fire-wood. after he had cut all the logs he could fasten upon the backs of his two mules, he went with them to the nearest town and sold his wood. as each year came to an end, the poor wood-cutter was no richer than he was at the beginning. when twenty such years had passed by, he began to feel quite hopeless. "what is the use of working so hard?" he said. "perhaps if i stay in bed from morning until night, fortune will take pity on me. i will try it, at any rate." the next morning, therefore, the wood-cutter stayed in bed, as he had promised himself he would do. when his wife found he did not get up, she went to wake him. "come, come," she cried, "the cock crowed long since. you are late." "late for what?" asked her husband. "late for your work in the forest, to be sure." "what is the use? i should only gain enough to keep us for one day." "but, my dear husband, we must take what fortune gives us. she has never been very kind to us, i must admit." "i am tired and sick of the way she has treated us. if she wishes to find me now, she must come here. i will not go to the wood to seek her any more." when she heard these words, the woodcutter's wife began to weep bitterly. she thought of the empty cupboard. she was afraid of hunger and cold. neither his wife's pleadings nor her tears had any effect on the wood-cutter. he would not rise from the bed. in a little while a man came to the door of the cottage, and said: "friend wood-cutter, will you help me with your mules? i have a load to move." but the wood-cutter would not get up. "i have made a vow to stay in my bed, and here i shall stay," he answered. "then, will you let me take your mules?" asked the neighbour. "certainly, help yourself," said the wood-cutter. the neighbour took the mules and went away. it happened that he had found a rich store of treasure in his field, and he needed the mules to carry it for him to his home. but, alas for him! the animals were safely loaded and had nearly reached his house, when some armed policemen came that way. the man knew the law of the sultan, by which he claimed all treasure-trove for himself. there was only one thing for him to do, that is, if he did not wish to be killed for taking the treasure for himself. he must flee. away he ran as fast as he could move, leaving the mules to go where they chose. you can easily guess they turned toward their own home. they soon reached it in safety. when the wood-cutter's wife saw them standing in front of the door with their heavy loads, she rushed to her husband and begged him to get up and look into the matter. but he still refused. he had vowed to stay in bed till fortune should visit him, and stay he would. his wife, seeing something must be done, went out to the mules and began to cut the cords binding the sacks. of course you know what happened then. out fell a perfect shower of gold pieces. the ground was soon covered with a golden carpet, richer than the most precious stores of the great east. "a treasure! a treasure!" cried the woman, as she rushed to her husband's bedside. "fortune has truly come to our home. husband, you did right in waiting for her here. look and see how rich we are now." it was certainly time for the wood-cutter to get up, for he had kept his vow. as he looked at the piles of gold pieces, he said: "i was quite right, dear wife. one must wait for fortune. she is very fickle. you will never catch her if you run after her. but, if you wait for her, she will surely come to you." when the story was ended, one of the ladies pointed to the clock. "my dear friend," she said, turning to osman's mother, "i have had a most delightful day. but it is now late in the afternoon. i must bid you farewell." as she rose to go, the other ladies followed her example, each one thanking the hostess for the pleasant day spent with her. chapter v. gipsies "i wish you had been with me this afternoon, osman," said his father, as his little boy ran to meet him. "what did you see, papa? please tell me all about it." "i went to walk with a friend. we wandered on and on until we came to a large field near the city walls. the field was alive with gipsies, who were having some sort of a holiday. they were dressed in their gayest colours and were having a dance." "outdoors in that field, papa?" "yes, osman, and it was a very pretty sight. a number of the men were squatting on the ground in a circle. those were the musicians. they played on different kinds of instruments. there were drums, flutes, and mandolins. "the players banged away with no kind of time, but the gipsies seemed to enjoy it, notwithstanding." "how did they dance, papa?" "the men kept by themselves, each one moving separately. but the women danced together. they all beat time with their hands. at the same time they kept saying, 'oh, oh, oh,' as they moved about. "when the dance was ended, the gipsies went over to a corner of the field where a feast was being prepared. great fires had been kindled. huge kettles of rice were boiling there, and whole sheep were being roasted. "many of the young gipsies were handsome. their eyes were dark and sparkling, and their teeth were of a pearly white. but the old women were wrinkled and ugly. their long, thin fingers made me think of witches." "the gipsies dress in the old style of our country, don't they, papa?" "yes, you always see them with large, baggy trousers, short jackets, and turbans wound around their heads. the men wear bright-coloured waistbands, stuck full of pistols and daggers." "i feel scared, papa, only to hear you speak of such things." "how foolish that is, osman. the gipsies would do you no harm. they mind their own affairs pretty well. to be sure, we do not love these people, but there is nothing to fear from them. "they have chosen to live among us, and, although they go away in large companies and travel all over europe, they are sure to come back here." "where did they come from in the first place, papa?" "a long time ago, i believe, they lived in the far east, or in egypt. they speak a queer language, made up of hindi and greek, as well as turkish words." just then, osman's mother came into the room. "father has just been telling me about a feast held by the gipsies this afternoon, mamma." "indeed! and did any of the women offer to tell you your fortune?" asked the lady, as she turned toward her husband. "they were having too good a time among themselves to notice any outsider," he answered. "at any other time i should have been bothered by them. i can't tell you how many times this year i have been asked to show the palm of my hand and cross it with silver." "the silver is the pay for the fortune-telling, isn't it?" asked osman. [illustration: "'she told me he would be my husband.'"] "certainly; a gipsy wouldn't give you a moment of her time unless she were paid for it," said his mother. "when i was a young girl, i loved to have my fortune told. one day a beautiful young gipsy girl came to the door of my house. of course, she asked to tell my fortune. "i spread out the palm of my hand and she looked at it a long time with her bright black eyes. she seemed to study the lines as though she were reading. at last, she began to speak slowly in a low voice. and, would you believe it! she described your father, osman, although i had never seen him at that time. she told me he would be my husband." osman's father smiled a little and then said, "the less we have to do with these strange people, my son, the better. it is very easy for these fortune-tellers to make one or two guesses that afterward turn out to be true. but we have talked enough about the gipsies for one day. let us speak of something else." "then tell me about our great ruler, whom you serve," said osman. "i like to hear about the palace and the sultan's little children who live in a city of their own inside of our great one." the people of turkey seldom speak of osman's city as constantinople, the name given it by the christians. they prefer to call it "the town." "yes, the palace and the buildings belonging to it really make a city by themselves," said his father. "it is a beautiful place, with its lovely gardens and parks. there is a lake in the midst of the park, and the sultan sometimes sails around it in an elegant steam launch. "the palace is of white marble, as you know, osman. the furniture is of ebony inlaid with ivory. the curtains and carpets are of the brightest colours, and are rich and heavy." "there is a theatre, as well as a great many other buildings, isn't there, papa?" "yes, osman. it is decorated in the richest colours. the sultan's seat is in the front part of the gallery." "he has many children, hasn't he?" "yes, and he loves them dearly. he often spends the evening with them and plays duets on the piano with his favourites. the building where they live with their mothers is in the park. i have been told it is very beautiful." "the sultan has many, many wives, i have heard mother say." "it is true. and each wife has a great number of slaves as well as other attendants. sometimes his wives drive through the city in elegant carriages." "but the sultan never leaves the palace grounds, except on the two great times each year, does he?" "never, except at those times, osman. but any one can get permission to see him as he rides on horseback to the mosque in his grounds, where he worships." "it is a beautiful sight, papa. you know you have taken me there to see him. the lines of soldiers, all in red fezzes, reach from the door of the palace to the snow-white mosque. the sultan himself looks so grand as he rides along! "the troops cheer him as he passes them and enters the mosque, but everybody else is very, very quiet. i suppose they feel somewhat as i do, papa. i'm not exactly afraid. but he is such a great and powerful ruler, it doesn't seem as if i could move or make a sound while i look at him." dear little osman! our far-away cousin has never heard how the people of other countries speak of turkey. they call it the "sick man of europe." they think it is a pity the sultan has such power in the land. they say: "turkey is the only country in europe that does not believe in the christian faith. its most important city is on the shores of a strait through which a great deal of trade is carried from all parts of the world. these are some of the reasons different countries would like to get control of turkey and its great city. they all look toward it with longing eyes. "besides these things, the sultan himself is not a good ruler for his people. he has many wives and hundreds of slaves. many of his people follow his bad example and buy slaves, both black and white." but little osman knows nothing of what is said about the sultan and the people of his land. it has never entered his head that it is wrong to buy and sell human beings. his mother is kind to her slaves, and does not make them work hard. sometimes, too, she frees one of her slave women. they are happy, she thinks. "but, dear little osman," you would say, "it is the _right_ of every one to be free. perhaps when you grow up you will see this, and help to make things different in your country." let us go back now to the little boy and his father as they sat talking of the sultan and his palace. "he dresses very plainly," said the turk. "but in the old days, the ruler's garments were very rich, and his fez fairly blazed with diamonds. if you had lived then, osman, your eyes would have been dazzled when you looked at him." "i wish i could have seen some of the things my grandmother has described," answered his son. "but i'm glad i wasn't living during the revolution of the janizaries. everybody must have been scared then. "is it really true that sultan mahmoud's old nurse saved his life by hiding him away in an oven?" "yes, but he wasn't sultan then. he was the heir to the throne, however." "what made the trouble, papa?" "sultan selim iii. was a wise ruler. he wished to improve his country. at one time the janizaries were the best trained and most useful troops. they were chosen from the christians who were taken captive in war. "but after awhile, men with no training and with selfish motives managed to get into their ranks. sultan selim knew they were harmful to the empire, and intended to disband them. they found out what he was about to do, took the city and palace by surprise, and killed the good selim. "as soon as his son's old nurse heard the uproar, she hurried to mahmoud and said, 'come with me at once; your life must be saved.' she led him to an old furnace in the palace and begged him to get inside. "'no matter what happens, nor who calls your name, do not make a sound until i speak to you,' she told him. "he did as she said. hour after hour, he stayed quietly inside the furnace while his father and many of his friends were being cruelly killed. "the sultan's enemies hunted everywhere for him, but he was nowhere to be found. they called his name coaxingly, but he knew better than to answer any one else than his old nurse, so he did not make a sound. "in the meanwhile, the old woman was patiently watching. when the janizaries had gone away, she went to the door of the furnace and whispered to mahmoud. she told him he now had a chance to gather his men about him and seize the government. "there was not a moment to lose; mahmoud was quite a young man, but he had a strong nature. his wonderful eyes showed that. "he came out from his hiding-place and succeeded in gaining control of the city. the wicked janizaries were conquered, but mahmoud had a sad and troubled reign. blessed be his memory!" chapter vi. a turkish bath "osman, you may go with me to the public bath-house," said his father, one bright morning. "i have business at the bazaar to-day, and we will go there afterward. you can have a good bath." osman was delighted. a whole day with his father was a great treat. besides, it pleased him to think of a visit to the public bath-house. there was a large marble bath-room in his own home, and there were furnaces underneath to heat it. there were servants to wait upon him as he bathed. "yet the public bath is better still," thought osman, "and i love to go there." probably you have all heard of turkish baths. they are so delightful that people in america and other countries have copied them from the turks. they have built similar bath-houses in their cities. "are we to drive or walk, papa?" asked osman. "we will drive. the carriage will be here in a few moments." after a short drive they drew up in front of a large and handsome building. it was the public bath-house. the first room entered by osman and his father was a large hall. it was open overhead to let in the fresh air. there was a raised platform around the sides. this platform was covered with a soft carpet and divided into small dressing-rooms. each visitor would have one of these for himself. a fountain was playing in the middle of the hall, making sweet music as the water fell into the marble basin. "go into one of those little rooms and take off your clothing, osman," said his father. the little boy was soon ready for the bath. the attendant had wound three bright-bordered towels around him. one of these was tied about his waist, the second was twisted into a turban around his head, while the third one was thrown over his shoulders. he would not catch cold, for the towels were thick and warm. he wore wooden slippers on his feet. now for the warm chamber. osman knew what was coming. he went at once to the marble platform in the middle of the room. there he stretched himself on a soft mattress which the attendants placed for him. they began to rub his feet and limbs very gently. how pleasant and restful it was! the little boy soon began to perspire. this was the time for moving him into a still warmer room, called the hot chamber. here osman was rubbed briskly with a camel's-hair glove after a bowl of water had been poured over his body. "oh, how good this is," he thought, sleepily, when scented water was brought in, the attendant using the soft fibres of the palm in bathing him with the fragrant water. it was very, very pleasant. there was no hurry. hot clothing was laid on the boy when this last bathing was over; cold water was poured over his feet and he was taken to the cooling-room. here he could lie on a soft, pleasant couch as long as he wished. after a good rest, how the blood danced through every part of his body! tired! it did not seem as though he could ever be tired again in his life. he was ready for any amount of walking and sightseeing. "father," he said, as they left the building and turned into one of the busiest streets, "i think a bath is one of the pleasantest things in the whole world." "it almost makes a new man out of an old one," answered the serious turk. he never called himself a turk, however. he would feel insulted to hear us speak of him in that manner. he would say, "i am an osmanli, that is, a subject of the empire founded by osman." osman, the founder of the empire, is also called otman, so the subjects are sometimes spoken of as ottomans, and their country as the ottoman empire. now let us go back to our little osman and his father. "see that poor beggar," whispered the little boy. "may i give him a coin, papa?" it was a sickly-looking old man who filled osman's heart with pity. he was very dirty, and his clothes were torn and ragged, although they were gay with bright colours. as he leaned against the side of a fountain, he made a picture you would like to paint. he kept crying, "baksheesh, baksheesh," to the passers-by. what a beautiful fountain it was! it had a wide roof, giving a pleasant shade. there were gilded gratings all around it, worked in lovely patterns,--roses and honeysuckles and trailing vines. brass drinking-cups, hanging around the sides, seemed to say, "come, thirsty traveller, come and drink." what a fluttering and cooing there was over the roof. at least a hundred pigeons were flying about, fearless and happy. no one would harm them, not even the ragged street boys who were playing about the fountain and ready for any mischief. after osman had given a silver coin to the beggar, his father pointed to the fountain, and said, "look, my child, at the beautiful pattern of the grating." "how pretty the gilded flowers are," answered osman. "i love to see them. but, papa, there are ever so many fountains in our city. nearly half of them are as pretty as this one. i believe there is hardly a street without one." "i knew a very good man who died a few months ago. he left his money to be used in building a fountain. it was a kind deed. don't you think so?" "yes, indeed, papa. there are always people and animals who are thirsty. it is a comfort to have fresh water at hand, especially if it is a warm day." [illustration: "through the crowd of busy people."] as osman was speaking, he heard a sound of music. looking down the street, he saw two gipsies coming toward him. the man was playing on a bagpipe, and leading a tame bear. the woman was dressed in bright colours. she was beating a tambourine. "isn't it pretty music, papa? oh, do look at the bear," cried osman. "he is doing some tricks." his father was in no hurry, so he and osman joined the crowd who gathered around the gipsies. the bear danced in time to the music, and did other amusing things. osman tossed him a coin, which he carried to his master. this pleased the others, and they threw him some more coins. "at this rate, the gipsies will go home to-night quite rich," laughed osman's father, as they passed on. "we will go to the bazaar now. i must attend to some business there before it is much later." "see that man with the tiger's skin over his shoulders," said osman, a few minutes later. "he is clothed in rags, but he isn't a beggar, is he?" "no, indeed, osman. he is without doubt a wise man of our own faith, who prefers to be poor. he has probably come to the city to visit some holy tomb, in order to keep a vow he has made. he may have travelled many hundreds of miles. you should honour him, my little boy." osman and his father still moved through the crowd of busy people. they passed many greeks and armenians, who carry on a large share of the business of the city. there were also englishmen and americans, who were seeing the sights of this strange, lively place. there were serious-looking mohammedan priests in white and green turbans, with their eyes bent down to the ground. there were water-carriers with big jars on their backs, and sweetmeat-sellers with scales on which they were ever ready to weigh out the rich candies of turkey. as for dogs and beggars, there were hundreds of them, without a doubt. "there is the bazaar, papa. i can see it on the hilltop beyond us." it was an immense building of a brownish gray colour. you might almost call it a city in itself. as osman and his father began to climb the hill, they made their way between many stands and tiny booths where goods were for sale. everything looked inviting, and osman saw several things he wished to buy. "see those lovely grapes, papa. i should like to carry some of them home," said the boy. but his father would not stop. "we will not buy anything till we reach the bazaar," he said. "you will see enough there to tempt you, i do not doubt." they passed on, and soon reached the entrance of the great building. it was quiet and dark inside, and there were many narrow little streets or passages, through which hundreds of people were moving. each narrow passage was given up to the sale of some special thing. the shopkeepers were from many different countries. there were shrewd armenians, wily greeks, persians with big caps on their heads, and turks with long beards, squatting comfortably by their counters. the high roof was over all. light was given by great numbers of little domes shining in every direction through this city of shops. it was very pleasant to osman. he liked to watch the crowds and look at the many lights. he enjoyed the strange odours of the east. he never grew tired of looking at the rich and beautiful goods for sale,--the goods of europe, asia, and africa. three continents seemed to meet in the great bazaar of constantinople. "oh, papa, please look at these lovely stones. i should like to buy that necklace for mamma, she is so fond of amber." but the boy's father replied, "not to-day, osman, not to-day." some queerly wrought swords now caught the boy's eye. they were made of the finest steel, and the handles were richly ornamented. "how i wish i could have one of those for my very own, papa. mayn't i please have one?" "when you are a young man, osman, we will look for the most elegant sword to be bought. but not now, my child." osman forgot his longing for a sword when he stood in front of a stand where perfumes were sold. "we will buy some of this attar of roses. it will please your mother, and you may give it to her," said the father. the turks are fond of delicate perfumes, and there is none they like better than attar of roses, which is largely made in turkey, and sent from there to other countries. "why does it cost so much?" asked osman, as his father handed a gold coin to the shopkeeper. "it is because only a few drops can be obtained from hundreds and hundreds of the flowers. next year, you shall take a journey with me, osman. i am going to the part of our country where the roses are raised for this purpose. it is a beautiful sight,--the fields thickly dotted with the sweet-smelling blossoms. you shall then see how the people get fragrant perfume from the flowers." "i'm getting so hungry, papa. can't we get some lunch? that cheese makes my mouth water." a man with a round wicker basket containing different kinds of cheese was going through the street and calling his wares. "hush, osman." his father pointed to the tower of a small mosque. high up in this tower stood a man crying out to all faithful believers of mohammed. it was the call to prayer. five times each day this prayer-caller mounted the tower. each time he cried out to the people who were within reach of his voice. osman and his father instantly turned toward the sacred city of mecca, and, kneeling down right where they stood, repeated a short prayer. then they slowly rose and turned their steps toward a restaurant, where they could get a delicious lunch. there were many other peddlers in the streets besides the cheese-seller. some of the shoppers bought what they wished from these peddlers. they could get unleavened bread or biscuits, custards, ices, sherbet, sweetmeats, hot vegetables, and many other things. but osman's father said, "we can be more comfortable in the restaurant. besides, i should like a good dish of kebaby." kebaby! it was an odd name and an odd dish. "it is very, very good," thought our little turkish cousin, as he began to eat from the steaming soup-plate set before him. the cook had placed tiny squares of unleavened bread in the bottom of the dish. over this he had poured a quantity of sour cream, and last of all came little squares of hot meat. the dish was seasoned with salt, pepper, cardamom, and sumach. "good! yes, very good," said osman's father, as he tasted the kebaby. "there is nothing i like better." when the lunch was over, he and his little son went to that part or the bazaar where carpets were sold. after many words about the price, a beautiful rug was purchased. its colours were soft and rich. it was woven so closely it would last for many years. the shopkeeper had said it would be good for a lifetime, and he probably spoke the truth. "before we go home, will you take me out on the bridge of boats?" asked osman. "it isn't far from the bazaar." "aren't you too tired?" "no, indeed; the bath this morning made me ready for anything." a short walk brought osman and his father to the bridge of which he had spoken. it joins the main city of constantinople and the suburb of pera. "it doesn't seem as though the bridge could be made of boats until we look over the sides, does it?" said osman. "no, dear. they are firmly chained together and covered with such strong planks that this bridge seems like any other. i must say i like to come here, myself. we can get such a fine view of the golden horn." "why do people call our harbour the golden horn?" "it is shaped somewhat like a horn. besides this, it is the channel through which many shiploads of the richest goods are carried. think of the precious things you saw in the bazaar to-day, the beautiful gems, the spices, the silks, the shawls of camel's hair." "i understand now. but look! there is a camel with a heavy load on his back. his master is leading him. i love camels." "when i was a little boy," said his father, "my mother used to tell me stories of the old times. in those days there were none of the new-fashioned carriages in our streets. only the gaily trimmed arabas, and sedan-chairs carried on men's shoulders could be seen." "mamma sometimes goes in a sedan-chair now," said osman. "it must be a warm way of riding in summer-time, though. the close curtains keep out the air." "you would have liked to see the camels in the old days, osman. merchants often travelled through the streets with whole processions of those animals. they went very slowly, to be sure, and they blocked up the streets. but camels are steady, faithful creatures, and are good beasts of burden." "the dress of the people was much prettier long ago, wasn't it?" "indeed, it was. it is a shame so many of our people copy the fashions of other countries. the dress now looks stiff and ugly beside the loose robes and bright colours of the old times. but see, my child, the day has left us and i am tired. we must hasten homeward." chapter vii. the wedding "i wish i could have been there," thought osman. it was friday morning, and the little boy was sitting beside his mother while she described the wedding-festival given in honour of two dear friends. she and her husband had spent all day thursday at the bridegroom's house. "it was a grand time, my little son. i wish you could have enjoyed it with us, but you were too ill to leave home," said osman's mother, as she lovingly patted his cheek. "was there a great crowd, mamma?" "yes, indeed, for the young couple have hosts of friends. the ladies, of course, rode in carriages, and the men were on horseback. a band of music played lively tunes as we escorted the young bride to her new home. "when we reached the house, the bridegroom stood waiting in the doorway. he led his bride to the bower in the bridal chamber, and, leaving her there, went to the 'place of greeting' to receive his gentlemen friends." "you helped in making the bower, didn't you, mamma?" "yes. i went to the new home on monday, with other friends and the relatives of the bride. the wedding-outfit and the presents had already been brought by some trusty porters. "after we had refreshed ourselves with a lunch of coffee and sweetmeats, we began to decorate the bridal chamber. we hung the bride's pretty dresses, her shawls and prayer-carpet, her embroidered sheets and towels, on cords fastened along the walls. "then we chose one corner of the room for the bower. we hung up fine embroideries and festoons of gauze, and fastened numbers of artificial flowers here and there in the draperies. when it was done it was lovely!" osman's mother sighed with delight as she thought of it. "but our work did not stop there, my dear. oh, no. we placed the most precious wedding-presents in glass cases, so every one could see and admire them. then we hung garlands of flowers on the walls of the room. it was very beautiful now. "when this room was finished, we went into the next one and set up the new furniture and bedding, the beautiful candelabra, the smoking-set, and the kitchen ware." "what did you do on tuesday, mamma?" "we went with the bride to the bath. when it was over, she put on borrowed clothing. some bad fortune might come to her, if she did not follow this old custom." "you spent wednesday with the bride, too, didn't you?" "certainly, osman. that is a very important day in the wedding-festival. i went to the bride's house quite early in the day, for we are very close friends. i helped her in receiving the bridegroom's mother and other relatives. all her special friends gathered there with me. we formed in a double row and helped the other guests up the stairs. "i hope my dear morgiana will be good friends with her new mother. as they sat side by side, the old lady passed sugar from her own mouth to that of her daughter-in-law." "why was that, mamma?" "it was a token of the good feeling there will be between them, osman." "dear me, a wedding-festival is a grand thing, isn't it? i wish i could have gone thursday with you and papa. that was the greatest day of all." "yes, it was a very pleasant time for every one. there was an entertainment in the place of greeting for the men, and another for the women in the bride's rooms. some gipsy girls danced and sang for us and we had refreshments." "what was the bride doing all this time, mamma?" "as soon as the bridegroom had led her to the bridal bower and gone away, her veil was raised. we could now look at her beautiful face as much as we liked, and admire her wedding-gown and presents." "did many poor people come in to look at the pretty things?" asked osman. his voice was rather sad as he said the word "poor." he pitied those who did not have a lovely home like himself, and plenty to eat and to wear. "it is so hard to be poor and have to work hard from early morning till late at night," he often thought. "yes, indeed, osman. the house was filled with people all day long. no one was turned away from the door," answered his mother. "i saw women in shabby clothing standing beside the most richly dressed ladies. they seemed to enjoy the festival very much." "when did the bridegroom enter, mamma?" "as soon as the evening prayer had been recited in the 'place of greeting.' then the bridegroom hurriedly left his men friends and started for the bridal bower." osman began to laugh. "i know what the men did then, mamma. i have heard papa tell about it. they pelted the bridegroom with old shoes and struck his back many a sharp blow. no wonder he hurried up-stairs as fast as he could go." the boy's mother smiled. "and i can tell you what happened after the door closed behind him, although we visitors now took our leave. i well remember my own wedding. "the bride kissed his hand as he entered. he knelt down on her veil and made a short prayer. after this a mirror was held in front of the young couple by an old woman friend of the bride, so they could see their faces in it side by side. "then sugar was passed from the young man's mouth to that of the bride. it was a symbol of the sweetness of their future life. "but, my dear child, i have been so busy talking i did not notice the time. i must leave you to dress for the banquet at the home of our young friends. run away and play with selim." chapter viii. the children's carnival "selim, selim, you will be late if you don't hurry," called osman. he himself had been ready for five whole minutes, and was becoming impatient because his little friend was not in sight. so he ran across the street to selim's house to find out what was the matter. "i will be dressed in a minute or two," said selim. osman sat down to count his marbles while he waited. the two boys were going to a children's carnival in the grand courtyard of a certain mosque. their mothers would go with them. hundreds and hundreds of children would gather there to make the most of this glorious spring day. osman had looked forward to this festival for a long time. "isn't it beautiful?" he exclaimed, when he and selim, with their veiled mothers, entered the courtyard and joined the crowd of happy little people. the children played one game after another. the boys had their tops and marbles, and did many wonderful things with them. of course, refreshments were plentiful; there were delicious sweetmeats, sherbets, and other things the children loved. and all the time the mothers, sitting on their gay carpets, watched the boys and girls at their play, and seemed to enjoy it as much as the little ones themselves. "i have had _such_ a good time," osman told his father that evening. "papa, do you remember when you were a little boy like me, and went to children's carnivals?" "yes, as if it were only yesterday, my dear. yet many years have passed away since i romped with my boy friends and played with tops and marbles. but i have something else to speak of, osman. would you like to go with me to-morrow to the mosque of agia sophia?" "oh, papa, yes, indeed. i love to go with you anywhere. but it is so beautiful there, i shall be more glad than usual." osman's people use the word "mosque" as we do the word "church." mosque means the place of prayer. the turks build all their mosques in the same general way. they ornament them with domes and high-pointed spires called minarets. when you visit osman's home, you will see hundreds of these domes and minarets, for there are many mosques in his city. "papa, where is the oldest mosque in the world?" asked osman. "it is at medina, in arabia, on the very spot chosen by the great prophet himself. a part of it is kept open to this day for all homeless people. that is, if they are believers in mohammed. they can go there at any time and live in its shelter. it was the prophet's wish." "it would be nice if every mosque were like that one," said osman. "when i grow up, i hope i may go to medina and stand in the mosque of the prophet. he suffered very much, didn't he, papa?" "a great, great deal," osman's father sighed. "he received his teachings direct from heaven. we find those teachings in the koran, our sacred book. "mohammed had many enemies who believed he was cheating his followers. they did not believe that allah (god) taught him. they even said bad spirits were the cause of his teachings. his life was in danger many times. but he and his teachings were saved." [illustration: "they came in sight of the mosque at last."] osman's father bent his head, saying these words very slowly: "allah is great, and mohammed is his prophet." osman repeated them after him. then both father and son sat quiet for a few minutes. when the turk spoke again, he said: "it is bedtime for my little boy. good night, my child." he bent down and kissed osman, then motioned to his waiting nurse to go with him to his room. the next day was clear and beautiful. even the street dogs seemed quieter and happier than usual. "it is good to be outdoors in the bright sunshine," said osman, as he walked down the street with his father. they came in sight of the mosque at last. it was not beautiful to look at, but it was very, very large. "once there were no minarets rising from this mosque toward heaven," the boy's father told him. "only the great dome reached upward from the roof. that was when the christians ruled over our city and worshipped in this building. but when it came into our hands, many changes were made." "why do we call it 'agia sophia,' papa?" "it is sacred to 'wisdom,' my child. the way to wisdom must be through prayer. but here we are at the doorway." osman and his father hastily took off their shoes and put on the big, soft slippers handed them by an attendant. other people, who were about to enter, did the same thing. there was a good reason for this. the dust of the street must not be brought in to soil the floor or carpets. they must be kept clean. during the service the people bow their heads to the floor itself many times. "it always makes me wish to be quiet when i go there," osman once told his mother. "i wonder how men could ever build such a great, great place of worship." there were no altars, no images, no seats. but along the walls, there were slabs of marble of all sorts and colours. pillars of rare and beautiful stones held up the roof. "they have been polished so they shine like mirrors," thought osman, "and they are as beautiful as gems." the floor of the mosque was strewn with prayer-rugs. they were arranged so the people who came to worship might all kneel toward the sacred city of mecca. "it is hundreds of years since christians worshipped here," osman's father had once told him. "they had altars of solid gold and shrines sparkling with precious jewels. pictures of their saints were on the walls. but we, osman, are taught not to have such paintings. a mosque should have no pictures of human shapes, nor of any other. for it is written: 'thou shalt not make the likeness of anything.' "when the great sultan who conquered the christians took possession of the city, he rode through this very building. it was crowded with people who had fled here for safety. the sultan ordered that no blood should be shed. but he made the christians the slaves of himself and his people. "he changed the building into a place of worship fit for followers of mohammed, saying, 'there is no god but allah, and mohammed is his prophet.'" "what was done with the altars and the images and paintings, papa?" "the altars and images were torn down. the walls were covered with a coating of reddish plaster, even as you see them to-day, and this hid the pictures from sight." "i love to come here in ramazan. the brightness dazzles my eyes. i wish i could count the great wheels of light hanging from the ceiling at that time." ramazan is the only part of the year when the mosque is brightly lighted. it is a strange festival, and lasts a whole month. the days are given up to fasting, and the nights to services in the mosques, to feasts, and frolics. it is the only time in the year when osman's mamma leaves her home after the sun has set, and goes to evening parties of her friends. all through the month, the streets are alive each evening with lights and processions and gay parties. but from dawn to sunset the followers of mohammed must eat no food whatever, although they may feast all night long if they wish to do so. rich people, such as osman and his family, enjoy turning day into night for a while. but it is not so easy for the poor, who must work without eating through the whole day, no matter how hungry and faint they may become. chapter ix. the two friends "never forget your friends, osman. i am glad you are so fond of selim, although his family is poor. i hope you will always love him as you do now." "of course, papa. selim is just like my brother. he always will be, too." osman looked up at his father with a little surprise. forget selim! he could not imagine such a thing. "you ought to feel that way," said his father. "there is nothing so beautiful as friendship. i will tell you a true story about two boys who once lived in this very city." osman, with a happy smile, squatted on the rug by his father's side. there was nothing he liked better than a story. "one of these boys," said the father, "was the son of a rich tobacconist. he was a moslem, like ourselves, but his dearest friend was a little armenian, whose father was a poor bread-seller and a christian. the two boys were always together in work and play. after a while, their parents began to think, 'this is not good. a christian and a moslem should not be such close friends. we must not let this go on any longer.' "neither reasoning nor scolding did any good. "at last the rich boy's father, the moslem, decided to send him out of turkey. 'it is the only way to make ibrahim forget joannes,' he said to himself. 'ibrahim is now fifteen years old. he is nearly a man. yes, i must send him so far away he will forget all about his christian playmate.' "ibrahim was told of the plan. what did he do? he rushed to joannes's home and said to his friend, 'i am going away, joannes. i must bid you good-bye.' "'no, indeed,' answered joannes. 'where you go, i will go, too.' "'but that cannot be. my father has arranged it so that i go into another country. i am to serve the pasha of bagdad. but i shall never forget you, joannes. and when i come back to this city, i shall come as your true and loving friend.' "the two boys embraced and kissed each other. then ibrahim went away. soon after this he was sent far away to the city of bagdad. "he served the pasha so well that he soon held a high position. years passed away and the pasha died. a surprise was now in store for ibrahim. he himself was made pasha. "but he longed for his old home. he wished to see his friend joannes once more, for he had never been forgotten. he sent word to the sultan, asking if he might visit this city for a short time. "but the sultan said, 'no; the country needs your care. stay there and keep it in order.' "more years passed away. again the pasha asked permission to leave bagdad that he might visit his old home. and again the sultan refused. "soon after this, a strange thing happened. the sultan became angry with his chief officer, the grand vizier. he had his head cut off, and, would you believe it, he sent for ibrahim to come here to be grand vizier in his place. "ibrahim was hardly settled in his high position before he sent two of his body-guard to the narrow street where his old friend used to live. they were told to find him and bring him before their master. "when they came to the little store of the bread-seller, they went inside and asked for joannes. "he came forward in a great fright. what had he done that the grand vizier should send for him? he trembled as he declared he had done no wrong to any man, neither theft nor murder,--no harm whatever. "but the officers would not listen. their master had ordered joannes to be brought to him, and they must obey his command. "he must go. there was no help. joannes sent a sad farewell to his wife and children, for he fully expected he was about to meet death. his pitying friends and neighbours crowded around as he went with the officers from his little store. "they brought him into the presence of the grand vizier. but poor joannes did not dare to look in his face. he threw himself face downward on the floor, and begged that his life should be spared. "'arise!' said the grand vizier. 'i do not wish you harm. i want to talk with you. do you remember ibrahim, your boy friend?' "'remember him! i loved him above all others. but he went away, and i never saw him again.' "'i am he,' answered the great man, and he fell on joannes's neck and kissed him. then he reminded ibrahim of the last words spoken before they parted. "'i am still your friend,' he said. 'behold, i will show you that i am. "he sent for his accounts, and then and there made joannes his chief banker. he gave him charge of all his money. he sent him home in a grand uniform, on a fine horse, and with servants to attend him. "you can imagine the surprise of joannes's wife when he came home in such style. "no, he had not been killed, after all. the poor woman fainted with joy at the glad sight. but she soon came to her senses, and both she and her husband lived to enjoy the loving kindness of joannes's old friend, now the sultan's highest officer. "that was friendship worth having, indeed." "what a lovely story, papa. maybe i shall grow up to show selim how much i love him, too." "it may be. yes, it may be so. or, possibly, selim will have the chance to show you how deeply he cares for you, osman. who knows what changes will come to our country? who knows, indeed!" osman's father became silent as he thought of the enemies of turkey, and of what might happen to his loved country if they should band together against the sultan and his power. the end. selections from the page company's books for young people =the blue bonnet series= _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =a texas blue bonnet= by caroline e. jacobs. 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"the story is full of spirited action and contains much valuable historical information."--_boston herald._ the hadley hall series by louise m. breitenbach _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =alma at hadley hall= "the author is to be congratulated on having written such an appealing book for girls."--_detroit free press._ =alma's sophomore year= "it cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things in girls' books."--_boston herald._ =alma's junior year= "the diverse characters in the boarding-school are strongly drawn, the incidents are well developed and the action is never dull."--the _boston herald._ =alma's senior year= "incident abounds in all of miss breitenbach's stories and a healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."--_boston transcript._ the girls of friendly terrace series by harriet lummis smith _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =the girls of friendly terrace= "a book sure to please girl readers, for the author seems to understand perfectly the girl character."--_boston globe._ =peggy raymond's vacation= "it is a wholesome, hearty story."--_utica observer._ =peggy raymond's school days= the book is delightfully written, and contains lots of exciting incidents. famous leaders series by charles h. l. johnston _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =famous cavalry leaders= "more of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readers with historical personages in a pleasant, informal way."--_new york sun._ "it is a book that will stir the heart of every boy and will prove interesting as well to the adults."--_lawrence daily world._ =famous indian chiefs= "mr. johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation of battles, sieges and struggles of these famous indians with the whites for the possession of america is a worthy addition to united states history."--_new york marine journal._ =famous scouts= "it is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boys and young men, and while it entertains them it will also present valuable information in regard to those who have left their impress upon the history of the country."--_the new london day._ =famous privateersmen and adventurers of the sea= "the tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing, stirring the blood with thrilling force and bringing new zest to the never-ending interest in the dramas of the sea."--_the pittsburgh post._ =famous frontiersmen and heroes of the border= this book is devoted to a description of the adventurous lives and stirring experiences of many pioneer heroes who were prominently identified with the opening of the great west. "the accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable, making a book of wide appeal to all who love the history of actual adventure."--_cleveland leader._ hildegarde-margaret series by laura e. richards eleven volumes the hildegarde-margaret series, beginning with "queen hildegarde" and ending with "the merryweathers," make one of the best and most popular series of books for girls ever written. _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.25 _the eleven volumes boxed as a set_ $13.75 list of titles =queen hildegarde= =hildegarde's holiday= =hildegarde's home= =hildegarde's neighbors= =hildegarde's harvest= =three margarets= =margaret montfort= =peggy= =rita= =fernley house= =the merryweathers= the captain january series by laura e. richards _each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ 50 cents =captain january= a charming idyl of new england coast life, whose success has been very remarkable. =same.= _illustrated holiday edition_ $1.25 =same,= french text. _illustrated holiday edition_ $1.25 =melody:= the story of a child. =same.= _illustrated holiday edition_ $1.25 =marie= a companion to "melody" and "captain january." =rosin the beau= a sequel to "melody" and "marie." =snow-white;= or, the house in the wood. =jim of hellas;= or, in durance vile, and a companion story, bethesda pool. =narcissa= and a companion story, in verona, being two delightful short stories of new england life. ="some say"= and a companion story, neighbors in cyrus. =nautilus= "'nautilus' is by far the best product of the author's powers, and is certain to achieve the wide success it so richly merits." =isla heron= this interesting story is written in the author's usual charming manner. =the little master= "a well told, interesting tale of a high character."--_california gateway gazette._ delightful books for little folks by laura e. richards =three minute stories= cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight plates in full color and many text illustrations by josephine bruce. _net_ $1.25; carriage paid $1.40 "little ones will understand and delight in the stories and poems."--_indianapolis news._ =five minute stories= cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.25 a charming collection of short stories and clever poems for children. =more five minute stories= cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.25 a noteworthy collection of short stories and poems for children, which will prove as popular with mothers as with boys and girls. =five mice in a mouse trap= cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.25 the story of their lives and other wonderful things related by the man in the moon, done in the vernacular from the lunacular form by laura e. richards. =when i was your age= cloth. 8vo, illustrated $1.25 the title most happily introduces the reader to the charming home life of doctor howe and mrs. julia ward howe, during the childhood of the author. =a happy little time= cloth, 8vo, illustrated $1.25 little betty and the happy time she had will appeal strongly to mothers as well as to the little ones who will have this story read to them, and appeal all the more on account of its being such a "real" story. the boys' story of the railroad series by burton e. stevenson _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =the young section-hand;= or, the adventures of allan west. "a thrilling story, well told, clean and bright. the whole range of section railroading is covered in the story, and it contains information as well as interest."--_chicago post._ =the young train dispatcher= "a vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of railroad life, full of incident and adventure, in which the author has woven admirable advice about honesty, manliness, self-culture, good reading, and the secrets of success."--_congregationalist._ =the young train master= "it is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn."--_passaic news._ =the young apprentice;= or, allan west's chum. "the story is intensely interesting, and one gains an intimate knowledge of the methods and works in the great car shops not easily gained elsewhere."--_baltimore sun._ "it appeals to every boy of enterprising spirit, and at the same time teaches him some valuable lessons in honor, pluck, and perseverance."--_cleveland plain dealer._ "the lessons that the books teach in development of uprightness, honesty and true manly character are sure to appeal to the reader."--_the american boy._ =the little colonel books= (trade mark) by annie fellows johnston _each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =the little colonel stories= (trade mark) being three "little colonel" stories in the cosy corner series, "the little colonel," "two little knights of kentucky," and "the giant scissors," in a single volume. =the little colonel's house party= (trade mark) =the little colonel's holidays= (trade mark) =the little colonel's hero= (trade mark) =the little colonel at boarding-school= (trade mark) =the little colonel in arizona= (trade mark) =the little colonel's christmas vacation= (trade mark) =the little colonel, maid of honor= (trade mark) =the little colonel's knight comes riding= (trade mark) =mary ware: the little colonel's chum= (trade mark) =mary ware in texas= =mary ware's promised land= _these twelve volumes, boxed as a set,_ $18.00. =special holiday editions= _each small quarto, cloth decorative, per volume_ $1.25 new plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in color, and many marginal sketches. =the little colonel= (trade mark) =two little knights of kentucky= =the giant scissors= =big brother= =the johnston jewel series= _each small 16mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece and decorative text borders, per volume_ _net_ $0.50 =in the desert of waiting:= the legend of camelback mountain. =the three weavers:= a fairy tale for fathers and mothers as well as for their daughters. =keeping tryst:= a tale of king arthur's time. =the legend of the bleeding heart= =the rescue of princess winsome:= a fairy play for old and young. =the jester's sword= =the little colonel's good times book= uniform in size with the little colonel series $1.50 bound in white kid (morocco) and gold _net_ 3.00 cover design and decorations by peter verberg. "a mighty attractive volume in which the owner may record the good times she has on decorated pages, and under the directions as it were of annie fellows johnston."--_buffalo express._ * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors repaired. [illustration: karageorges--liberator of serbia] serbia: a sketch by helen leah reed author of "napoleon's young neighbor" "miss theodora," etc. [illustration] written and published for the benefit of the serbian distress fund 555 boylston street, boston 1917 copyright, 1916 by helen leah reed the plimpton press norwood mass usa _serbia, valiant daughter of the ages, happiness and light should be thy portion! yet thy day is dimmed, thine heart is heavy; long hast thou endured--a little longer bear thy burden, for a fair tomorrow soon will gleam upon thy flower-spread valleys, soon will brighten all thy shadowy mountains; soon will sparkle on thy foaming torrents rushing toward the world beyond thy rivers. bulgar, turk and magyar long assailed thee. now the teuton's cruel hand is on thee. though he break thy heart and rack thy body, 'tis not his to crush thy lofty spirit. serbia cannot die. she lives immortal, serbia--all thy loyal men bring comfort fighting, fighting, and thy far-flung banner blazons to the world thy high endeavor, --this thy strife for brotherhood and freedom- like an air-free bird unknowing bondage, soaring far from carnage, smoke and tumult, serbia--thy soul shall live forever! serbia, undaunted, is immortal!_ among comparatively recent books in english accessible to the general reader are: servia and the servians _mijatovich_--l. c. page co. the servian people _lazarovich-hrebelianovich_, 2 vols.--scribners servia by the servians _alfred stead_--heinemann the slav nations _tucic_--hodder and stoughton serbia, her people, history and aspirations _petrovitch_--stokes the story of servia _church_--kelly hero-tales and legends of the serbians _petrovitch_--harrap and co. with serbia into exile _fortier jones_--the century company the spelling of names follows "servia by the servians," except "serb." the author is indebted to some of these books for facts embodied in this little sketch--as well as to several persons familiar with serbia. she gives warm thanks to madame slavko grouitch, wife of the serbian secretary for foreign affairs, who first interested her in serbia. serbia: a sketch i. serbia: starting serbia, younger sister of the nations, has indeed had a younger sister's portion. in her early years she grew up with little guidance from older and wiser members of the family. she did not have the advice that she needed. perhaps she would not have followed it, though on occasion she has shown more docility than many of the family. it took her a long time to find herself; she had troubles in her household, and it was her first endeavor to get the factions to unite and let her be the acknowledged head of the house. she believed it was her ultimate destiny to govern them all--that this was for their good. when she had made herself mistress of her own house, she tried to stand alone--to be independent of her neighbors. she had no wish to dominate them. she did not try to aggrandize herself at their expense, nor did she take up weapons against them. but she wished them to acknowledge her head of her own household, just as those within her house had done. she even was willing to be called a princess--providing she governed her household well. but almost hidden from the rest of europe by her mountains, kept by barriers from easy access to the rest of the world, the other nations paid little attention to her. she grew up almost unnoticed by the world--proud and strong, simple in her tastes, pious in her own way (for her church was not the church of most of her neighbors), and thoughtful, if ill educated. she was not bookish in those early days; she was too indifferent, perhaps, to letters. had she kept a journal, we could now embroider her story with more brilliant threads. her lack of education was perhaps rather her misfortune than her fault. those who knew her realized her many fine qualities, yet she made few friends beyond her own borders,--and because she was independent and poor, her richer neighbors were suspicious of her and jealous. this one and that one set upon her. they were jealous when she first put on regal robes. they were afraid that she wished to enlarge her possessions at their expense, and one of them, who had assumed complete lordship over serbia and all her sisters, was constantly threatening her, pretending at times that if she could help him against the foe from asia who was threatening them both, she should be acknowledged of royal rank. this did not wholly satisfy her. her ambitions had grown. she herself was reaching out for the imperial purple. she felt that if she wore it, she might better defend herself and her relatives beyond the mountains from the asiatic hordes. then came the great test--and from then almost until to-day kossovo has been a day of mourning! when the fair, gray-eyed ancestors of the modern serb came south from their home in galicia, moving westward from the shores of the black sea, along the left bank of the danube, they crossed the river and occupied the northwest corner of the balkan peninsula. how long they had lived in galicia we need not ask, but they bore with them traditions of a catastrophe in india that was probably the cause of their remote fathers' leaving that country. pliny and ptolemy mention the serbs, and we know that for one hundred years at least previous to 625 a.d. they were at war with the empire. the roman empire was then slowly disintegrating, and in the balkans there was no power to protect the romanized illyria from the northern invaders who in prehistoric times had driven away the aboriginal inhabitants. it matters little whether the emperor heraclius invited the serbs to settle down in the northwest byzantine provinces lately devastated by barbarians, on condition that they would defend the empire against the tartar avars, or whether he merely accepted the fact that they had entered these provinces and must stay there. he made an agreement of peace with the serbs--and this marks the beginning of their known history. he desired a buffer state, as the neighbors of the serbs so often have desired in later times. the lands the newcomers then occupied are the serb lands of to-day--serbia, montenegro, bosnia, herzegovina, old serbia, macedonia, dalmatia, the banat, and to an extent croatia and western bulgaria--practically the ideal pan-serbia, but in this little sketch, so far as it is possible, by "serbia" is meant the kingdom of serbia, at the north of the balkan peninsula. the kingdom of serbia is bounded by bosnia, old serbia, bulgaria, roumania, the banat, and slavonia. the boundary rivers are the danube, on the north separating it from hungary and on the northeast from roumania; the drina, on the northwest from bosnia; the save, on the northwest from croatia and slavonia; the timok, on the northeast from bulgaria. various mountain ranges on the west separate it from bosnia, on the south and southwest from turkey, and on the south and southeast from bulgaria. until the tenth century, except pliny and ptolemy, the emperor constantine porphyrogenites is the only historian to speak of the serbs, and he but briefly; yet their history in those three centuries after their arrival was an epitome of their history in later years in the balkan peninsula. the general movement was the same. first, a constant struggle on the one side to establish a union of the jupanias and on the other side a constant resistance to such centralization. a jupania may be roughly defined as a county within whose limits lived clans more or less related to one another. the ruler was a jupan, and it was not strange that the more powerful jupans should tend to absorb their weaker neighbors. the successful man took the title of grand jupan. jealousy of the grand jupan would lead to assassination, dethronement, and decentralization--and then would come a repetition of the violent and bloody story. another element of disorder in serbia was the ancient slavonic rule that a jupan might be succeeded, not by his son but by the oldest member of his family. it was hardly to be counted against a strong jupan that he should try to arrange for his son to succeed him--yet this added to the troubles of the serbs. a third and later cause of serb trouble was the church. the greek emperor and the greek church on the one side, and the roman catholic church represented by venice and hungary on the other, were continually warring, not only for territory but for influence in the serb provinces. yet in spite of apparent wavering, the serbs from the time they adopted christianity have been constant to the church of their early choice. finally, the founding in the seventh century of the bulgarian kingdom, on the eastern and southeastern frontiers of serbia, added to the dangers of this tempestuous little nation. after the frank and bulgarian emperors in the first quarter of the ninth century had for some time wrangled over the serbian tribes, the bulgarians at last succeeded in placing a garrison in belgrade. the bulgarians ruled rascia for seven years, but it was like ruling an uninhabited land, as the larger part of the serbians had run away to croatia. almost two hundred years after the agreement with heraclius the serbs had a strong jupan who carried out the principles of concentration. this visheslav was probably a descendant of that visheslav who had signed the agreement with the greek emperor. his descendants, of whom the greatest was vlastimir, for three generations contributed to the unity of serbia by defending it against bulgar and frank, who were constantly menacing even when not directly attacking. towards the end of the ninth century, in 871, under basil the macedonian, the serbs acknowledged again the suzerainty of the greek empire and accepted christianity. this was in the reign of mertimir, but after his death almost all of the greek serb provinces were lost to tsar simeon of bulgaria. though serbia recovered part of her lost provinces, she could not hold them. the political center of the serbs had moved to zeta (montenegro) and the mystic prince jovan vladimir in the latter part of the tenth century, sometimes called king of zeta, tried in vain to stop the triumphal march of tsar samuel of bulgaria through the serb provinces. he himself was taken a prisoner to samuel's court, where he married the tsar's daughter, kossara. he returned to zeta as reigning prince under the suzerainty of bulgaria, but in 1015 he was murdered by samuel's heir, and he now is venerated as a saint in serbia. the first serb novel, "vladimir and kossara," published in the thirteenth century, is founded on the life of this prince. zeta was too far from the racial center of serbia to be a good political center and soon the disintegration of the first serb kingdom began. although serbia recovered the provinces bulgaria had taken, she was unable to stand alone, and grudgingly accepted greek suzerainty until prince voislav--cousin of vladimir of zeta--started a successful revolt against the greeks and united under his own rule zeta, trebinje, and zahumle. his son, michel voislavich, annexed the jupania of rascia. in 1072 he proclaimed himself king and received the crown from gregory vii. this was an effort to free serbia from the greek overlordship, as expressed in the greek church. in the next reign serbia became better known to the world when she welcomed the crusaders under raymond of toulouse, passing through on their way to the holy land. then came brighter days for serbia. stephen nemanya, grand jupan of rascia, who lived near novi bazar (1122-1199), planned the union of all the jupanias in one kingdom under one king. this he practically accomplished, for though unable to include bosnia, within ten years of his accession he had almost doubled his territory. later, when stephen's ambition grew, he received frederick barbarossa, passing through with his crusaders, and gave him every honor due the empire when he visited nish in 1188, and treated him so liberally that barbarossa--at least this is something more than rumor--was considering a marriage between his son and stephen's daughter when death put an end to the alliance. in the next reign the emperor henry vi planned, with the help of the serbs, to conquer the byzantine empire. but again death took the emperor before the plans were completed. another notable act of stephen's was his attack on the greek provinces as an ally of the king of hungary. stephen nemanya assumed the double-eagle as the insignia of his dignity, but though he founded the first real kingdom of serbia, and was called king, he was never crowned. toward the close of his distinguished career, in 1196, weary of the world, he withdrew to the monastery helinder on mt. athos, where years before his youngest son rastko had retired. stephen died after three years of monastic life. the historic records of serbia begin with his reign. rastko, known in the church as sava and afterwards canonized, was a man of active temperament--a statesman as well as a churchman. he used his wisdom and his learning to benefit his country. stephen, son of nemanya, was the first crowned king of serbia. he kept off foreign enemies, and serbia, no longer dreading attacks, began to develop some of her mineral resources. she made a beginning, too, of educating her people. in the next two or three generations of rulers there were quarrels among members of the ruling family. outside, too, the magyars began to press upon the little kingdom. but on the whole serbia was united,--mindful, perhaps, of st. sava's motto: "only union is serbia's salvation." stephen the sixth, or "the great," won victories over the greek emperors, the tartars, and the bulgarians. he helped the greek emperor against the turks, now becoming formidable, and as part of his reward had the emperor's daughter given him in marriage. but this led to domestic unhappiness in his later years and some loss of territory. for his wife tried to keep his son stephen from his inheritance. in turn, stephen's party set upon the king and choked him to death. though stephen dushan may have had no hand in it, this murder clouds his reputation. stephen dushan is a contradictory character--by some regarded as the murderer of his father, by others an idealist to be compared with king arthur or with roland. stephen dushan (detchanski), great-grandson of stephen nemanya, came to the throne in 1331 and in ten years had gained albania and epirus and finally all macedonia except salonika. he was practically suzerain of bulgaria. he freed the church, which long since had drifted from rome back to byzance. now he made it independent of the greek emperor, constituting the archbishop of petch, archbishop, or rather patriarch, of serbia. noted both as a soldier and a statesman, stephen had wider plans than vlasimir or nemanya. the turks were now looming dangerously in the east. the greek empire was tottering. with it, the rest of eastern europe might fall, including little serbia--one of the smallest of all the little principalities. but serbia, if small, was brave, and dushan hoped to proclaim a serbo-greek empire to head off the asiatic hordes. to accomplish this he took certain territory from the greek empire and, proclaiming himself emperor of the serbs and greeks, was solemnly crowned at uksub at easter, 1346. nine years later he tried to unite bulgars and serbs and greeks against the turks. with a large army of about one hundred thousand trained soldiers he was almost at the gates of constantinople when a sudden illness overtook him and he died. under dushan serbia had very nearly reached her highest ambition--complete dominion over the balkan peninsula. dushan ruled also a large part of the former byzantine lands in europe. of farther-reaching good for serbia than his territorial conquests was the zakonik or code of laws, completed in 1354 under dushan's direction. it contained not only the best of the old, but many new, laws resulting from dushan's knowledge of his country's needs. it ranks high among medieval codes of law. after his death, his empire separated itself into its elements--a number of small states whose rulers were fighting one another while the turks were subduing thrace. with the death of dushan in 1355 the greatness of serbia also passed away. his son, urosh, could not hold what his father had gained, and little by little parts of his empire fell off from the center, until but a small fragment remained. yet there were still many stout-hearted serbs--many who wished to do their utmost to throw off the turks now pressing upon them. when urosh died childless, the direct nemanya dynasty came to an end, but in 1371 lazar grebelyanovitch of the nemanya family was elected ruler of the serbs. though called tsar, he would not formally take the title. devoted to his country, he threw all his energy into forming a christian league against the turks. but the wily oriental circumvented him by attacking the members of the league one by one. for nearly twenty years after that there were many encounters between turks and serbians. at the first attack on nish, serbia so humbled herself as to agree to pay tribute in gold and in soldiers for the sultan's armies on condition the turks would leave her alone. later lazar did his utmost to save poor serbia from further disgrace. he united with the ban of bosnia, also a descendant of stephen nemanya, and together they gained many small victories. after once defeating the invading turks under murat i the serbs had to stand a second time opposed to murat and a well-trained force of turkish soldiers. against the turks were drawn up the full strength of serbia, albania, and bosnia. there on the field of kossovo, the "field of blackbirds," june 15, 1389, was fought one of the decisive battles of history. it was a bitter defeat for serbia, though as many turks as serbs perished on the field. on the eve of the battle murat i had been assassinated. the brave lazar with the flower of the serb nation lay dead--lazar first made prisoner, then beheaded. of all serbian rulers, the memory of lazar was held the dearest. "a pious and generous prince, a brave but unsuccessful general." there was no longer any question as to supremacy in the balkan peninsula. the independence of serbia and the liberties of all the smaller states were now the property of the unspeakable turk. lazar, it is said, was warned of his fate by a letter from heaven even before the battle, but he still went forward to fight for his country. bowring's translation of the heroic pesma (battle of kossovo) gives an idea of this event. before the battle lazar receives the mysterious letter: "tzar lasar! thou tzar of noble lineage! tell me now, what kingdom hast thou chosen? wilt thou have heaven's kingdom for thy portion, or an earthly kingdom? if an earthly, saddle thy good steed--and gird him tightly; let thy heroes buckle on their sabres, smite the turkish legions like a tempest, and these legions all will fly before thee. but if thou wilt have heaven's kingdom rather, speedily erect upon kossova, speedily erect a church of marble; not of marble, but of silk and scarlet; that the army, to its vespers going, may from sin be purged--for death be ready; for thy warriors all are doomã©d to stumble; thou, too, prince, wilt perish with thy army!" when the tzar lasar had read the writing, many were his thoughts and long his musings. "lord, my god! what--which shall be my portion, which my choice of these two proffer'd kingdoms? shall i choose heaven's kingdom? shall i rather choose an earthly one? for what is earthly is as fleeting, vain, and unsubstantial; heavenly things are lasting, firm, eternal." so the tzar preferr'd a heavenly kingdom rather than an earthly. on kossova straight he built a church, but not of marble; not of marble, but of silk and scarlet. then he calls the patriarch of servia, calls around him all the twelve archbishops, bids them make the holy supper ready, purify the warriors from their errors, and for death's last conflict make them ready. so the warriors were prepared for battle, and the turkish hosts approach kossova. bogdan leads his valiant heroes forward, with his sons--nine sons--the jugocichi, sharp and keen--nine gray and noble falcons. each led on nine thousand servian warriors; and the aged jug led twenty thousand. with the turks began the bloody battle. seven pashas were overcome and scatter'd, but the eighth pasha came onward boldly, and the aged jug bogdan has fallen. ....*....*....*....* then lasar, the noble lord of servia, seeks kossova with his mighty army; seven and seventy thousand servian warriors. how the infidels retire before him, dare not look upon his awful visage! now indeed begins the glorious battle. he had triumph'd then, had triumph'd proudly, but that vuk--the curse of god be on him! he betrays his father at kossova. so the turks the servian monarch vanquish'd, so lasar fell--the tzar of servia- with lasar fell all the servian army. but they have been honor'd, and are holy, in the keeping of the god of heaven. all that the nemanyas, all that the serbian people had done toward national unity was destroyed at kossovo. throughout serb lands, the anniversary of kossovo is still kept as a memorial day for all serbian heroes, both for those who fell then and those who have since fallen in defense of their country. for seventy years after kossovo, serbia, though nominally ruled by despots, was really subsidiary to the sultan. george brankovitch, one of the despots, worked for an alliance between serbia and hungary to overthrow the turks. the turks were defeated at kunovista, and lands previously taken were restored to him. this brave man died at the age of ninety of wounds received in a duel with a hungarian nobleman. but in spite of the efforts of brankovitch, the days of serbia were numbered. in 1459 she became a pashilik under the direct government of the porte--and this was her condition for nearly three hundred and fifty years. if in her darkest hour some strong nation had sympathized with serbia, her future might have been different. the nations of europe were now having a revival of life--a renaissance--but they had no thought of serbia, their young sister. she was hidden among her mountains and she made no outcry. she had tried to do what she could for herself. she had had her moments of power and happiness. now came a long, long night. [illustration: church at ravinitza--where lazar was buried] in the darker days many serbs fled to the mountains, sometimes to carry on their occupation of farmer so far as they could, unmolested by the turk; sometimes to become haiduks--the robin hoods of the mountains and forests--to steal from the moslem when it was possible, to give to the poor serb; always to keep up an unceasing guerrilla warfare. serbians were sold as slaves by the ten thousands to constantinople and to egypt. whenever they could, they fled their country to venice, to dalmatia, to hungary. those who stayed in serbia were not meek and so far as they could they resisted their oppressor. the church was the mainstay of the nation; indeed, even to-day, the serbian church is a national rather than a religious organization. before the end of serb power came, southern hungary had begun to receive many serbian immigrants; by the middle of the sixteenth century they were numerous along the borders of croatia and slavonia. although to a large extent farm laborers, they were soldiers as well, and fought in many battles for austria. in the latter part of the fifteenth and the early part of the sixteenth century, the serbs in the hungarian army formed the famous "black legion" and won great fame. in the latter part of the seventeenth century thirty-seven thousand serbians went in a body to south hungary, and fifty years later one hundred thousand, migrating to russia, formed a colony by themselves. in 1690 the emperor leopold had granted a fair amount of liberty, civil as well as religious, to the large organized body of serbs who had settled in south hungary. their privileges were from time to time confirmed, especially when the emperor needed help from the serbs against some one of his numerous enemies. at other times the serbs in hungary had no flowery path. austria was always playing fast and loose with them, and at last, toward the end of the eighteenth century, though austria was treating them well, they saw they had little cause to hope that she would free them from the turkish yoke. the ancient ill will of hungary against serbia persisted, and sometimes laws passed in her favor by austria were in the end suppressed or nullified by hungarian efforts. ii. serbia: singing serbia, in the hands of a cruel conqueror, stripped of most of her possessions, bereft of happiness, forgotten by her sister nations, had little left but hope. she still clung to her ideals of brotherhood and freedom, and she held close her great treasure, a gift inherited from her remote northern ancestors--her gift of song. her songs--virile, yet somewhat softened by contact with her southern neighbors--cheered and strengthened her. she sang and sang, in a minor key, and her mountains reã«choed with the deeds of her happier days, with the stories of her heroes, now seeming more splendid because she herself had become so poor and unhappy. for centuries she was like one stunned; she had never been aggressive--now she could not fight against the aggressor who had all the weapons in his own hands. a younger sister--and poor at that!--a younger sister, who had set out to be perfectly independent--what could she expect? she must work out her own salvation. besides, she lived so far away from the centers of culture she was almost a barbarian. yet she was not wholly uncouth. she had been courteous to the crusaders traversing europe to crush their common enemy--the turk; and now the turk had captured her! of course it was a pity! it was a busy time in europe in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; the nations had enough to do to keep their own houses in order,--and when they had leisure they must keep in touch with new life, with the renaissance of art and learning. they were enchanted with the discovery that they were not mere parvenus like distant serbia, but descendants of that grand old house that had once conquered the world. the beauty of paganism--ah, that was something worth contemplating! but serbia--well, the crusades were over, and the turk was no longer threatening western europe; besides, serbia had not even belonged to their church--so what matter if the turk crushed her? but serbia was not crushed. had the nations listened, they could have heard her singing. there was little else she could do, except wait and hope--wait like her marko for the signal to rise. through five centuries of subjection to the turks, the guslars, singing the heroic pesmas, were hardly second in influence to the priests in fortifying the spirits of the suffering serbs. the intense patriotism of the serb was kept alive, indeed was often kindled, by the folk songs he had heard even in his cradle. through all his troubles he has cherished the divine fire of nationality, even as the vestals conserved the sacred flame. the serb, belonging to the most poetical of nations, has the most melodious of all slav tongues--identical with that of the croats and yet used as the language of literature a comparatively short time. even little more than a hundred years ago people were still arguing whether ancient slavonic or the serbian vernacular should be the language of literature. but for dossitie obradovitch this result might have been reached less quickly. he, "the great sower," a notable educator, applied the language of the people to literature, publishing an autobiography, besides poems and treatises, in the common tongue. before his death, in 1811, the "write as you speak" party had won, and literature became the property of the masses. yet a further improvement in the language was undertaken by vuk karadgitch, a self-taught cripple, whose grammar, published in 1814, was epochal. he it was who devised the alphabet of thirty letters, each one representing a complete sound, and he published a dictionary and a collection of the pesmas which he took down from the mouths of the guslars who sang them. then, when various translations appeared, europe remembered vaguely that diplomats and travelers generations before had brought back accounts of serbian poetry heard almost as often in those days in foreign countries as in serbia itself. goethe was one of the first to translate them and call attention to those pesmas. he praised their humor and philosophy, their high heroism mingled with certain spiritual qualities. soon sir john bowring, a skilled linguist, made a translation into english verse which is nearer the original in spirit and letter than any that has been made since. there have also been many fine prose translations of the kossovo cycle and of other pesmas, and all readers agree that in them is, as one critic says, "a clear and inborn poetry, such as can scarcely be found in any other modern people." "serbian song," wrote schafferik, "resembles the tone of the violin; old slavonian, that of the organ; polish, that of the guitar. the old slavonian in the psalms sounds like the loud rush of the mountain stream; the polish like the sparkling and bubbling of a fountain; and the serbian like the quiet murmuring of a streamlet in a valley." the serb loves to sing; every young countryman carries his gusle, and is ready to use it--a one-stringed violin, shaped something like a mandolin, played on the knee with a bow, like a violoncello. men and women--peasants and townsmen--all sing. when two or more sing together, it is unison and not part-singing. the national serb music is rich in melodies. the traveler to-day hears the serb singing a ballad of the days of stephen dushan of kossovo, of the bulgar war, of karageorges (the william tell of the mountains). the gusle wails monotonously, with an occasional trill on one or two minor notes. some find its music plaintive, others call it tiresome, and travelers as long ago as the beginning of the eighteenth century have written of seeing numbers of people in a crowd silently weeping as they listened to an old blind man chanting the national songs. there are two great epic cycles--one centering around tsar lazar, the other around marko--and both have to do with the battle of kossovo. fragments of other cycles show that dushan, milos obilich, and other heroes have been each a chief figure in them. no matter how unlearned, from one point of view, a serb may be, he can always talk about stephen nemanya, or st. sava, or marko, and the other great men of his race. moreover, he is continually creating new songs, new folk lore. in the great mills of this country he lightens his work with his simple melodies. sometimes the words of his song form a clear narration of the events that brought him to america, even of happenings since his arrival. his own sorrows, his own joys, are woven in his epic. after their recent war with bulgaria, everywhere at village festivals, the serbs began to sing of their victories, and to-day they are undoubtedly singing of the sorrows of the past two years. mr. miatovich says that when as cabinet minister he had been defeated, forty years ago, the next day he heard the people singing this event in the streets. whatever the subject--whether it deals with ancient times or with the present; whether it is an epic or one of the so-called women's songs--the serbian pesma is anonymous. no single writer or composer claims it. it is the work of the people, all of whom have had a chance to modify it as it has passed through the ages. among all the heroes of the guslars the favorite has always been prince marko. although much of the career of the marko of the pesmas was fabulous, this prince had a real existence in the latter part of the fourteenth century--the son of vukashin, who tried to usurp the throne of young urosh after the death of stephen dushan, and queen helen, unless one prefers to account for marko's glittering qualities by making him the offspring of a dragon and a fairy queen. the real marko was not a great man, as the world counts greatness. he ruled a small territory in macedonia, and prilip was his capital. he is said to have been friendly with the turks and to have died fighting for the sultan. this was after kossovo, when serbia was sleeping. yet he must have had qualities that made him rise above this in popular estimation, for his local reputation grew with time and became national. certainly for five centuries he has been a living personality, not only in serbian but in croatian, bulgarian, and roumanian tradition. it is worth considering--this theory that in prince marko the serbian nation projects itself; that his sufferings and successes are the sufferings and successes of the whole nation; that it beholds its own virtues and weaknesses in his; its own individuality in his popular personality; its own doom in his tragic fate. athletic, keen-minded, quickly reading the designs of his foes, he, as an individual, was what serbia would like to have been as a political entity. even as he triumphed over magyar, venetian or turk, so would the serb have triumphed. when serbia was sunk in poverty the guslar brought before his hearers visions of splendid things they could never hope to see, but whose beauties satisfied their imagination. marko is the knight without fear, without reproach--the lover of justice, the hater of all oppression. he is kind and dutiful, the protector of the poor and abused. his pity extends even to animals, who in turn often helped him. "he feared no one but god." courteous to all women, tender and dutiful to his mother, marko could be savage and cruel beyond belief toward the turks. human weapons never harmed him, and he wielded a war club weighing one hundred pounds, composed of sixty pounds of steel, thirty pounds of silver, and ten pounds of gold. one touch of this mace beheaded a foe, as one stroke of his saber ripped him open. marko's horse, sharaz, his constant companion and helper, was the strongest and swiftest horse ever known. he knew just when to kneel down and save his master from the adversary's lance. he knew how to rear and strike the enemy's charger with his forefeet. when roused he would spring up three lance lengths forward. glittering sparks flashed from beneath his hoof, blue flame from his nostrils. he has been known to bite off the ears of the enemy's horse; sometimes he trampled turkish soldiers to death. marko fed him bread and wine from his own dishes. sharaz kept guard over marko while he slept. he always shared the glory of victory. yet, whether or not marko personifies serbia, in the life of marko the current of serbian medieval life is reflected as in a mirror. in these poems turks are always unreliable and cruel; venetians are crafty; the faithless wife is usually lured away by a turk. in one vivid tale, marko's own bride, as he is taking her home from bulgaria, is stolen by a doge of venice, who, with three hundred attendants, had been invited by her father to be part of her bridal procession. his designs do not succeed, and when marko comprehends this treachery he does not hesitate. "he cleft the doge's head in twain," and he struck another traitor with his saber "so neatly" that he fell to earth in two pieces. the touch of exaggeration in all the stories is not one merely of incident but of detail--the kind of exaggeration a child loves. for example, when marko was brought from the cell where the sultan had imprisoned him for three years, his nails were so long that he could plow with them. the serbs of those days, having few splendid things in their own surroundings, loved to endow marko with grandeur. on his tent, for instance, was fixed a golden apple. "in the apple are fixed two large diamonds which shed a light so far and wide that the neighboring tents need no candle at night." in another instance a magnificent ring is described, "so richly studded with precious stones that the whole room was lighted up." the ransom demanded by marko and his friend milosh from the magyar general voutchka was more than magnificent. he was to give three tovars of gold for each (a tovar was as much as a horse could carry on his back), and, among other things, a gilded coach harnessed with twelve arabian coursers used by general voutchka when visiting the empress at vienna. voutchka's wife not only agrees to this, but adds one thousand ducats for each of the two. even in a poem, it delighted the serbs to have a magyar in their power. sometimes marko's adversary is a moor--for example, the moor who wishes to marry the sultan's daughter and the other moor who demanded a wedding tax from the maidens of kossovo. he cut off the head of this moor with one touch of his mace. at another time he is imprisoned by a sultan whose daughter releases him. he has promised to marry her. but when they have started on their elopement, and she lifts her veil, he is horrified to see how black she is. there seemed nothing for him to do but to run away. yet he knows that he has committed a sin in breaking his promise--and he confesses this sin to his mother: "then i sprang upon the back of sharaz, and i heard the maiden's lips address me- 'thou in god my brother--thou--oh, marko! leave me not! thus wretched do not leave me!' therefore, mother! wretched do i lowly penance: thus, my mother! have i gold o'erflowing, therefore seek i righteous deeds unceasing." in these pesmas one has glimpses not only of all the neighbors who warred upon the serbians, but of christian malcontents going over to the church of rome or sowing dissensions at home. a careful reader can get an almost complete picture of the serbian life after the conquest, painted, to be sure, in high colors. in most of the serbian heroic pesmas there is little of that superstitious element that marks the ordinary life of the serb to-day, except in the almost constant presence of the vila. marko's vila never loses an opportunity to help him, to warn him, and even to scold him. the serbian vila, so conspicuous in serbian song and story, may be roughly defined as a guardian angel. she is a vaguely beautiful maiden born of the dew and nurtured in a mysterious mountain and seems to combine qualities of both classic and northern mythologies. she has qualities which are even essentially christian, for sometimes she expresses her belief in god and st. john, and always she has a deadly hatred for the turk. no higher compliment can be paid a lady than to say, "as fair as the mountain vila," and a steed "swift as a vila" means one of great value. occasionally marko reproves his vila rayviola and once when she has shot an arrow through the throat and another through the head of his friend milosh, he pursues her among the clouds on his horse sharaz and brings her to earth with his club, ungallantly adding: "thou hadst better give him healing herbs lest thou shalt not carry longer thy head upon thy shoulders." but generally marko's attitude is more affectionate: "where art thou now, my sister-in-god, thou vila?" there are in existence about thirty-eight poems and twice as many prose legends detailing the thrilling exploits of marko. in spite of certain accounts of his death, it is generally thought that he never died, but withdrew to a cave near the castle of prilip and is still asleep there. at times he awakes and looks to see if a sword has come out of a rock where he thrust it to the hilt. when it is out of the rock, he will know that the time has come for him to appear among the serbians once more to reestablish the empire destroyed at kossovo. even now, on occasions, he may appear to help his disheartened country-men. an interesting story of the war of 1912-13 is told that bears directly on this belief. the serbian forces were storming the fort at prilip when their general ordered a delay. in spite of this, they pushed on and ran straight to the castle of the royal prince, marko. the general trembled, believing that without the help of his artillery, for which he was waiting, these men of the infantry would be wholly destroyed. but even while dreading this, he saw the serbian national colors flying from the donjon of marko's castle. his serbs had driven the turks away and were victorious, as it proved, with little loss of life. when he reproved them for risking so much: "but we were ordered by prince marko, did you not see him on his sharaz? prince marko commanded us all the time--'forward! forward!'" they really believed that they had seen their hero. two passages from the heroic pesmas may serve to show marko under different aspects. in the first he has been invited by the grand vizier to go hunting, in company with twelve turks. he has obeyed the vizier's command and has loosed his falcon. then the princely marko loosed his falcon; to the clouds of heaven aloft he mounted; then he sprung upon the gold-wing'd swimmer- seized him--rose, and down they fell together. when the bird of amurath sees the struggle, he becomes indignant with vexation: 'twas of old his custom to play falsely- for himself alone to gripe his booty: so he pounces down on marko's falcon, to deprive him of his well-earn'd trophy. but the bird was valiant as his master; marko's falcon has the mind of marko: and his gold-wing'd prey he will not yield him. sharply turns he round on amurath's falcon, and he tears away his proudest feathers. soon as the visir observes the contest, he is fill'd with sorrow and with anger; rushes on the falcon of prince marko, flings him fiercely 'gainst a verdant fir-tree, and he breaks the falcon's dexter pinion. marko's noble falcon groans in suffering, as the serpent hisses from the cavern. marko flies to help his favourite falcon, binds with tenderness the wounded pinion, and with stifled rage the bird addresses: "woe for thee, and woe for me, my falcon! i have left my servians--i have hunted with the turks--and all these wrongs have suffer'd." but marko did not content himself with words and the grand vizier had hardly time to warn his companions when marko cleft his head asunder and proceeded to cut each of his twelve companions in two. after deliberation he went to the sultan and told what he had done. the sultan laughed, for he was afraid of the light in marko's eyes and chose to dissemble: "if thou hadst not behaved thus i would no longer have called thee my son. any turk may become grand vizier, but there is no hero to equal marko," and he dismissed marko with presents. in the second, "the death of marko," he has been warned by the vila that his death is near, and he obeys her commands. marko did as counsell'd by the vila. when he came upon the mountain summit, to the right and left he look'd around him; then he saw two tall and slender fir-trees; fir-trees towering high above the forest, covered all with verdant leaves and branches. then he rein'd his faithful sharaz backwards, then dismounted--tied him to the fir-tree; bent him down, and looked into the fountain, saw his face upon the water mirror'd, saw his death-day written on the water. tears rush'd down the visage of the hero: "o thou faithless world!--thou lovely flow'ret! thou wert lovely--a short pilgrim's journey- short--though i have seen three centuries over- and 'tis time that i should end my journey!" then he drew his sharp and shining sabre, drew it forth--and loosed the sabre-girdle; and he hasten'd to his faithful sharaz: with one stroke he cleft his head asunder, that he never should by turk be mounted, never be disgraced in turkish service, water draw, or drag a moslem's jugum. soon as he had cleaved his head asunder, graced a grave he for his faithful sharaz, nobler grave than that which held his brother. then he broke in four his trusty sabre, that it might not be a moslem's portion, that it might not be a moslem's triumph, that it might not be a wreck of marko, which the curse of christendom should follow. soon as he in four had broke his sabre, next he broke his trusty lance in seven; threw the fragments to the fir-trees' branches. then he took his club, so terror-striking, in his strong right hand, and swiftly flung it, flung it from the mountain of urvina, far into the azure, gloomy ocean. to his club thus spake the hero marko: "when my club returneth from the ocean, shall a hero come to equal marko." when he thus had scatter'd all his weapons, from his breast he drew a golden tablet; from his pocket drew unwritten paper, and the princely marko thus inscribed it: "he who visits the urvina mountain, he who seeks the fountain 'neath the fir-trees, and there finds the hero marko's body, let him know that marko is departed. when he died, he had three well-fill'd purses: how well fill'd? well fill'd with golden ducats. one shall be his portion, and my blessing, who shall dig a grave for marko's body: let the second be the church's portion; let the third be given to blind and maim'd ones, that the blind through earth in peace may wander, and with hymns laud marko's deeds of glory." and when marko had inscribed the letter, lo! he stuck it on the fir-tree's branches, that it might be seen by passing travellers. in the front he threw his golden tablets, doff'd his vest of green, and spread it calmly on the grass, beneath a sheltering fir-tree; cross'd him, and lay down upon his garment; o'er his eyes he drew his samur-kalpak, laid him down,--yes! laid him down for ever. by the fountain lay the clay-cold marko day and night; a long, long week he lay there. many travellers pass'd, and saw the hero,- saw him lying by the public path-way; and while passing said, "the hero slumbers!" then they kept a more than common distance, fearing that they might disturb the hero. iii. serbia: seaward the nations of europe that had over-looked serbia in her days of strength--she was so young, and so far away, half hidden in her wilderness of mountains--the nations of europe that had turned deaf ears to her cries when the turk attacked her, began to make inquiries about the little sister. she had been asleep so long that some of them really imagined her dead. but they heard some plaintive music: they recognized her voice as she sang. they saw that she was not only alive, but awake, thoroughly wide awake, and that she was asking for help. but they had troubles enough of their own--revolutions and things of that kind. the people were altogether too troublesome--so at least the rulers said--and the people, who ought to have heeded poor serbia's cries, did not take time to find out just who she was, and what she desired. all might have been different had they known that serbia was one of themselves, acknowledging no privileged classes and desiring little but a chance to get on her feet and walk alone. for this she needed space to expand in, space in which to exhale the spirit of freedom that filled her. the turk, her master, was growing weaker. she could almost strike off her own shackles when suddenly a deliverer came--one of her own people, a son of her mountains. when her master was driven away, serbia began to look about her, a little humbly at first, for she was trying to understand herself. she saw that she needed education before she could take her proper place in the world. so she set herself bravely to learn from books. she noticed that the stronger nations were governed by rules, and she gave herself a constitution patterned on theirs. regular work was hard for her, but she worked diligently and saved a little, though disinclined to hoard. she had rich treasures hidden away but she had never thought about them, even as playthings. what does a child care for diamonds? but when it was made clear to her that wealth is power, she worked more heartily. the other nations began to admit that serbia was no longer nobody. indeed she was so near being somebody that many thought it would be wise to win her friendship, and wiser to put her under obligations. so when she asked for an hereditary prince, presto! the thing was accomplished! though once she had hardly dared ask more than the privilege of naming her own chief. in outward aspect serbia began to be more like other people, although some of her neighbors remembered too well her hoydenish days and her years of poverty. still, they could flatter her sometimes, for she held the key to certain things that several of them needed--trade routes, fertile lands, and other things that no ambitious nation should live without. soon some of her neighbors desired to control the sale of things that modestly enough she had begun to offer to the world. she had heard that money was power, and she hoped to send her goods to market in the best way. she noticed that every one who made a success of business had a place by the sea. in the whole family of nations she was the only one who had not a place by the sea, except the littlest one perched up in the high mountains. but this little one makes a success by trading in beauty. yet beauty is an intangible thing to carry to any market and is best disposed of in the mountains themselves. when serbia first expressed her longing for the sea every one frowned. "impossible!" there were other things that ought to please her as well--opportunities to help them in their wars, little snips of territory here and there if she helped them gain anything. but a seaport--ridiculous! why, the imperial cousin on one side of her would be insulted! what better could little serbia wish than to market her goods to him, or at least send them over routes he had picked out? then serbia said less and thought more. she sang less, but she composed more songs, and she listened to the people talking, not singing. she found she could not live by poetry alone. the young serbs and the panslavs told her their plans and she looked hopefully at her big fur-clad cousin. but though with him it wasn't a question of trade, he had ambitions of his own. he wasn't sure but that serbia with a seat by the sea might watch him too closely. then all the others in the great family of nations took sides with one or the other. serbia was restless, but she knew she could wait. her household was now much more closely united than in the days of her youth, and she had realized what had once seemed a vain dream--comparative independence. so she could wait! who would look at pictures of massacres extending throughout serbia! at plundered villages! at tortured women and fatherless children shrieking in agony! all the horrors inflicted by the turks on the serbs in the early nineteenth century were the convulsive movements of one near his end. the turk himself was growing weaker and weaker, and his weakness was serbia's opportunity. but where was the man to lead her out of bondage? there was now no heir to her throne, the throne of what had once been a proud kingdom. assassination and exile had led also to the passing of the old nobility. although the family of the ancient kings was no more, the old racial stock had little changed. the serbs were still of the same indomitable race, still breathing the spirit of freedom, still bound to one another in a true brotherhood. yet, loyal though they were, ready to die for serbia, where could they look for a leader? in the early part of 1804, mustapha pasha, the turkish governor of belgrade, was much too kind and benign a man to suit the janissaries and the dahias, their leaders. they had dealt slaughter right and left, and at last had killed mustapha himself because he had opposed their cruelty. while they were planning a general massacre of the most eminent serbs in the country, all serbs who could were fleeing to the mountains. the rumored massacre was the last straw, and a silent cry arose, "oh, for the right man!" then came the whisper that a leader had been found--karageorges, black george, a prosperous raiser of swine, at this time about forty years old. he had served in the austrian armies nearly twenty years before under joseph i, that emperor who, of all the austrian monarchs, is said to have meant the most and to have done the least. karageorges, black george, so called either on account of his dark complexion or his moody disposition, a brave man and a man of character, had fled to the sumadia for safety. he had great influence among the large body of refugees in that beautiful forest region of secure mountain fastnesses. karageorges was a blunt, plain man, and honest. he had a strong sense of justice, though notably hot tempered. at the meeting, when he was chosen leader, there were about five hundred serbs, men all under arms. in responding to their request that he would lead them against the turks, he said: "again, brothers, i cannot accept, for if i accepted i certainly would do much not to your liking. if one of you were taken in the smallest treachery, the least faltering, i would punish him in the most fearful manner." "we want it so, we want it so!" they cried. when he saw that they were in earnest, karageorges accepted the office they conferred on him and the archpriest of bonvokik received and consecrated his oath. upon this karageorges took supreme control of the insurrection. at this same meeting, in the little village of oorshats, they organized a national assembly. at first the serbs with tactics worthy an oriental managed to keep the sultan's attention from their insurrection by protesting that they were in arms not against the sultan himself but against the dahias, who, by disobeying him, were the real rebels. deceived, or willing to seem deceived, the porte let them work out their own plans. but the battle of ivankovitz awoke the sublime porte. turks defeated by serbs! the world had never heard of such a thing! in vain napoleon advised the porte to take no notice of the serb insurrection. it was merely part of a russian plot! soon the army of karageorges was before shabaz, where the turks were intrenched. the turkish commander shouted from the heights, ordering karageorges and his men to give up their weapons. "come and get them!" cried karageorges. in a short time the serb leader and his army were in shabaz, from which the enemy had fled in great disorder. austria was now too intent upon her own war with napoleon to give the serbs the help they sought. she merely advised them to make peace with the porte. in accordance with her usual policy, she wished to cramp the little state within small limits, subject to her interests. russia, though more sympathetic, had little thought to spare for serbia. at this moment she herself was trying to make an alliance with turkey against napoleon, but she did advise serbia not to accept the recent offer of the porte to give her self-government and to recognize karageorges. pathetic enough was the vacillation of serbia between austria and russia. had austria been more responsive, karageorges would have preferred closer relations with her. but while austria was indifferent to serbia's advances the tsar, showing more interest in serbia's affairs, agreed to send his agent to her. he promised help also if the serbians would agree to all things initiated by the russian government. austria was disturbed. serbia was too bold; she must be watched! like most really great men karageorges, even when first acclaimed his country's deliverer, had enemies. the old question of centralization and decentralization had come up. many thought him too autocratic. the enemies of serbia encouraged decentralization. divided, she would be easier to subdue. russia disapproved of many things done by karageorges. but he had the strong support of the sumadia in whatever he did. when the turks again tried to invade serbia, russian and serbian troops, fighting side by side, drove them away. but for the party troubles, but for the loudly expressed ill will of leaders of the opposition, karageorges might have been happy. though serbs fought side by side with russians until 1812, it happened that no important battles took place on serbian territory. during these years serbia not only had self-government, but she somewhat increased her boundaries by lands taken from neighboring pashiliks. yet she had her disappointments. turkey, when russia's war with napoleon began, disregarded the few concessions made to serbia by the peace of bucharest. at last, the grand vizier led his army against serbia, and although her men fought bravely, they had to draw back from the frontier. then a strange thing happened! with no obvious reason, karageorges went back to belgrade with the army reserves. without staying there even for a day, he and part of his officers practically deserted the army. crossing the danube into austria, they forsook their country in her day of trial. with them went the russian consul and the metropolitan and many leading serbians with their families. the downfall of karageorges was due to no fault of his. no one ever doubted his courage, and could he have had his own way, when he saw the impossibility of pushing back the enemy, he would have gone again to his stronghold in the sumadia, there to fight to the last. but there was a frontier to be defended, and serbs owning property along the rivers begged for protection. the army was not large enough to accomplish all that was demanded of it. the turks were victorious and with their victory there began again a series of acts of unspeakable cruelty. among the serbs who remained in serbia when karageorges and his friends crossed over into austria was milosh obrenovitch. he had not only served with karageorges in the austrian armies, but he had worked for him as a keeper of swine on his sumadia estate. during the recent revolution he had helped his great leader by watching the balkan passes for unfriendly bosnians and albanians. when milosh saw that the turks were, for the time at least, masters, he offered to help them reconquer the serbs. in reality, faithful to his own people, he was only waiting a chance to aid them. the time came and one memorable palm sunday, 1817, he appeared near the church at tokova and the people called upon him to lead them against the turks. he told them that this would be a difficult undertaking. "we know that, but we are ready for anything. dost thou not see that we perish as it is?" "here am i," he replied. "there stand you!" "war to the turks! with us is god and the right." then arms were brought out from underground hiding places. his men were ready and milosh led them on to victory over the turks. when later the turks came to treat with him, they made him tribute collector. many of the serb chiefs were therefore displeased and wished to fight openly. they suspected milosh of double-dealing. among these was karageorges who had landed unexpectedly in serbia. karageorges and milosh were no longer friends. one explanation of this was that milosh suspected karageorges of poisoning his brother milan, who had died suddenly, but no one who really knew karageorges could suspect him of using poison to a rid himself of an enemy. but the world does believe that milosh betrayed karageorges to the turks. certainly the latter was murdered by the turkish governor's men--beheaded in the lonely house where he was sleeping. this was a pathetic end for a great life that had held as many melodramatic as tragic events. karageorges was a true patriot. he was neither cruel nor blood-thirsty, though circumstances often compelled severity. a glance at his portrait shows his nobility of character. that he was a lover of law and justice was evident by his promptly establishing a system of law-courts for serbia. he reduced taxation, and though he could neither read nor write--or because of this--he zealously supported education. he hoped that the time would come when serbia need no longer send outside to get the trained men whose help she needed. he established many good public schools, among them the high school at belgrade, which later grew into the university. among his tragic moments was that one when he had to shoot his father in order to prevent his torture by the turks, and that other when he refused to save his brother from execution when he found he deserved the death penalty. more melodramatic than tragic was a critical moment in the national assembly when members sat with pistols held at their heads that they might not act foolishly. though not a crowned king, in name, karageorges had all the power of a monarch. yet with so much at his command he retained his taste for the simplest life. his dress was that of the peasant and, even when chief executive of serbia, he often cooked his own meals in the kitchen of his dwelling. after the death of karageorges the efforts of serbia to have turkey recognize her dragged on. at last, in 1820, the sultan by a special bã©rat made serbia a hereditary princedom. this was a long step in the right direction. milosh, feeling secure in his seat, did well by his country, and better by himself. years after his death, serbs in gossiping groups would recount the divers ways in which milosh had filled his coffers. his keenness for the main chance, and his general canniness, all his subjects admired hugely. but the burly neighbor looking on was less pleased. why did a little struggling state trouble herself so about education, and economical housekeeping? why should she try to attain the impossible? then, to show poor serbia how impossible her ambitions were, russia frowned and agreed with those who thought the hereditary prince too autocratic. in eastern europe there was room for only one autocrat. "moreover," muttered russia, "why should an autocrat give a constitution to serbia?" a threat was mingled with the muttering--and milosh withdrew the constitution. yet russia used her influence so strongly with turkey that great britain began to take an interest in serbia. the young state was growing too fast, there was no telling where she might wander. she needed a guardian--some one to watch her, to note where she was going and tell her she must not. so great britain sent colonel hodges to serbia as her general consul, and he whispered--for russia must not hear him--that in case serbia had trouble with russia, great britain and france would stand by her. next, the porte, never before known as a constitution maker, invited milosh to send deputies to constantinople to plan a new constitution for serbia. but milosh found this new constitution no better than the one russia had made him withdraw. alas for milosh! alas for serbia! although the new constitution was to have the guarantee of the great powers, the constitution itself would not hold water. a few months later, the authority of the prince of serbia was modified. it was ordered that he should have a council of seventy life members. he had desired councillors whom he could appoint and dismiss at will, but turkey, forgetting a promise to great britain, had yielded to russia. as the constitution required milosh to appoint the most distinguished men in his realm as councillors, and as at this time serbia's men of influence were chiefly his enemies, he was disturbed. although the british ambassador counseled patience, milosh plotted to do away with this constitution by a military vote. when his plans fell through, he abdicated, in june, 1839, and retired to his home in wallachia. before abdicating, however, milosh had to sign the constitution imposed upon him at the instigation of russia, and this limiting of the power of the hereditary prince was a good thing for serbia. milan, the eldest son of milosh, survived but three weeks after his father's abdication. michel, the younger son, succeeded him. while he was wrangling with the porte and russia, vuychitch, a councillor, started a rebellion and michel, not knowing what else to do, left serbia. this suited vuychitch and soon the national parliament elected the son of karageorges prince of serbia. serbia was quiet and prosperous during his reign, but alexander himself was of a timid and wavering temperament, not even bold enough to summons a national assembly. friendly to turkey and to austria, rather than to russia, he pleased no one of them, and finally, when he did call a national assembly, the council dethroned him. old milosh was now asked to return and the change of rulers was made without excitement or disorder. at the death of milosh after three short years, his son, the exiled michel, returned to the throne. in his exile he had grown wiser and he was ready with a definite program for serbia's good. he saw that if his country was to be respected, her independence must be guarded. first among his many reforms was a new constitution to replace the one russia had imposed on serbia. michel was a good diplomatist and, in 1862, when the turkish government at belgrade bombarded belgrade, he demanded the evacuation of all the forts, and some of them complied. next he sent his wife to london--the beautiful julia, countess hunyadi. she interested gladstone, bright, and other influential englishmen in little serbia. he armed and drilled a national army and had an understanding with greece and other balkan states for a general uprising against the turks. finally he requested the sultan to remove all turkish garrisons in serbia, and when great britain supported the advice the other great powers gave the sultan, the later, at last, gave up the forts to michel. michel did much for serbia. he built good highways, laid out parks, and gave her many fine public buildings, including an opera house. he was among the first to emphasize serbia's need of a seaport, and he was equally far-sighted in many other matters. michel had no children and when the karageorges exiles heard that he meant to divorce his wife and remarry, their own hopes of power in serbia faded. poor michel, their victim, was assassinated in the spring of 1868. no change of dynasty followed michel's death. serbia proclaimed as prince, milan, son of a first cousin of milosh the elder. milan's early years had been spent in paris, and the kind of education he received there left its bad impress on his whole life. when confirmed by the skupchtina he was barely thirteen, and little more than of age when, five years later, urged by panslavists, he had a war with turkey. although serbia was defeated, this war forced the balkan situation, and the attention of europe was turned toward the little nation that held the key to the balkans. milan had made strategic mistakes, and when the vast turkish army was invading serbia, he called on the great powers for help. while they hesitated, russia ordered abdul hamid to sign an immediate truce. when russia within a few weeks of this went to war with turkey, serbia, in spite of her recent losses, was able to help her. after capturing vrania, pirot, and nish, serbia had the joy of celebrating mass on the field of kossovo where five hundred years before she had lost everything. yet at the peace of stefano serbia did not get a fair reward. her welfare was but a shuttlecock, beaten back and forth between great nations. she could secure, at the berlin congress, neither complete independence nor the annexation of certain territories she hoped for. but at this congress austria gained her own ends by giving serbia two strong neighbors for watchdogs, bulgaria and east roumelia. she also imposed a barrier between serbia and her strongly desired goal--the sea. when milan saw that he could not depend on russia, whom he had been brought up to regard as a friend, he turned to austria. he began to pay long visits to vienna. thus he angered both his own people and the tsar, but austria was always ready to give him the money his manner of life required. the building of new railways threw the nation into debt, and between the advice given first by progressives, then by radicals, milan the ne'er-do-well could barely enjoy a life devoted to pleasure. at the beginning of his reign the porte had acknowledged him hereditary prince of serbia, but milan, aiming higher, in 1882 had himself proclaimed king. not long after this, in a war with bulgaria, he had to retreat ingloriously before prince alexander of battenberg. indeed, now, as on other occasions throughout his reign, milan behaved like the proverbial spoiled child. sometimes, fearing his people might use a rod made of something more stinging than words, he would completely disarm them in a brilliant speech. when things were at their very worst his statesmen would extricate him. yet gradually he lost influence with the nation in spite of the new constitution which gave them most things that enlightened nations seek. but various happenings were tending to estrange him from his people, not the least of which was his undignified quarrel with his wife, with whom, even after their divorce, he continued to bicker about their son. milan was rather a blunderer than a villain, and as he had managed to hold the affection of his people through all his misdeeds, political or domestic, his abdication was a great surprise. he went away suddenly to live in paris the life he preferred, after making provision that alexander, his son, should succeed him. alexander was but a boy of fourteen when he came to the throne--a subnormal boy, and wilful, too. as an autocrat he had no rival among modern serbian rulers. no one unmade and made so many constitutions. no prince or king of serbia surprised his people with so many coups d'ã©tat. but the time had passed when the misdoings of a ruler could make the people of serbia very unhappy. although the king never failed to show that he despised not only statesmen and scholars but even distinguished army officers, he could terrorize neither individuals nor the nation. the three great parties, liberal, radical, and progressive, were not afraid to express opinions, and many reforms were projected and carried out. serbs as a whole were anxious to be counted among the people of the world of intelligence and culture. alexander and draga mortified them; but the assassination of the wretched pair lowered the nation in the estimation of humanity. less than a week had passed since the killing of the king and queen, in the spring of 1903, when the skupchtina elected peter karageorgevitch to the throne. this grandson of karageorges had been an exile for forty-five of his fifty-seven years of life. austria and russia alone among the great powers were willing now to recognize him. great britain waited three years before sending back her minister to serbia. this was after the regicides had gone from the country. iv. serbians so serbia was no longer a child, and she wore a royal crown. she even had to be considered by the family of nations when making plans. some members of the family, indeed, would like to have made all her plans for serbia, without intimating that in so doing they would profit themselves. serbia realized that there were things she could not do without the consent of some, or even all of them; but she did not wonder why--for serbia herself had grown up, and it wasn't merely a physical development. she understood a great many things that in her more primitive days she could not have comprehended. sometimes they fought among themselves, with an occasional black eye for one or the other, because they found it hard to decide, not what they could do for serbia--the youngest and most inexperienced--but what they could get from her without her discovering their motives, without the others objecting. they forgot that serbia was no longer a child; they did not know that she could spy self-interest in the proffers they made her. so she was coldly distant with them at times, though she leaned most toward the big, fur-clad cousin from the north. he was closer of kin, a double relation, and he seemed less mercenary than some of them. but even he could not get her a home facing the sea. she longed so ardently for this! why did every one hinder her? the imperial cousin on the west was determined to stop her. had he not given refuge to her exiled children in the days of darkness? had he not let them win victories for him when she had hardly a friend in the world? was it likely--as human nature goes--that he had done this without expecting a reward? no, she must be reasonable and must let him have the first choice of all that she had to sell, and at his own price. should she reach the sea, others would tempt her. she would find all sorts of people there anxious to trade with her--new people whom she herself had never yet had a chance to help. no! he, the imperial cousin, knew what was best for her. the only trade route for her was the one through his land. she must send her things that way and, after he had looked them over, if there was anything he did not wish, she might sell it to some one else. moreover, of course, she must pay whatever he charged for transportation and customs as she passed through his country. but serbia had grown more sophisticated. her costume of red and gold still followed the old lines; indeed, only a close observer could see any changes in it. but the material was richer than formerly, and she had thrown aside the little veil--symbol, as it seemed to her, of the darkening oppression of the ottoman. her people were clamoring around her. they assured her they were not lazy, though perhaps a little slower than some of their neighbors. their fields yielded abundantly. they discovered that by digging they could get much wealth, not only from the surface but from their rocks far below. they must be able to exchange it--to send it readily where they wished. why, why, since they were willing to pay for it, could they not have a seaport of their own? but there was another who was determined to hold serbia back. she did not know him well; for though he bore the imperial eagle, he had appropriated a title that belonged to the old house that for a time had held the world in its grasp. she would not call him a parvenu--not wholly a parvenu--yet why should he trouble her? she was not really in his way. could it be that he was trying to curry favor with the turbaned turk, and hoped to ingratiate himself the more thoroughly by tormenting her? what had the turk to give him? ah! serbia had now grown so worldly that she suspected motives in every action, even in those sometimes that were really guileless. serbia, in the same latitude as france and italy, has a similar climate, though with greater extremes of heat and cold; and its average of one hundred rainy days yearly prevents its being called a land of sunshine. with an area about equal to that of the state of new york, its population of four millions is much smaller--nearer, indeed, that of massachusetts. about fifteen thousand of its nearly thirty-four thousand square miles of area is territory added since the balkan wars. the rivers of serbia flow toward the north into the danube. its boundary rivers, the danube, save, drina, and timok are navigable, but of those within serbia, only the morava is navigable, and that for but sixty miles. serbia is not only protected by the ranges on her boundaries, but four-fifths of the surface is covered with mountains, a "chaos of mountains," a fact both helping and hindering her progress through the centuries. the general aspect of serbia is one of beauty, with high and rugged mountains, mysterious forests, and long narrow river valleys as picturesque as fertile. even the sumadia, called the rallying point of the nation, is now well cultivated and enterprising. many medieval buildings add to the picturesqueness of the country, forts and churches perched on rocky heights or half screened in the woods. serbian towns resemble one another, with their wide, clean streets, and red-roofed houses built of stone, with suburbs that show many attractive dwellings surrounded by shrubbery. even if the churches are not very graceful, there are many modern school buildings throughout the country. the five largest towns have--or, alas! had--from fifteen thousand to about one hundred thousand inhabitants each, from passavowitz to belgrade; in order, leskovatz, kraguievatz, and nish, but belgrade is by far the largest. although the original serb type was probably blonde, the mingling of the slav with the other races in the balkans has brought it about that most serbs are now dark-skinned and dark-haired and of only average stature. the tall blonde peasant of the sumadia is an exception to this type, though the serb generally has a clear gray eye. the serb is excitable and volatile. while holding to old things he is ready to grasp new ideas, but his new ideas he cannot always make practical. it is probably for this reason that serbia is behind many countries in agricultural and industrial development. the serb is not of a jealous disposition. he is ready to praise what others have done, and though tenacious of purpose he is neither dogged nor blunt like his neighbor the bulgarian. the modern serb desires to be well thought of. he is anxious to be measured by western standards, yet in his heart he still cherishes many old customs. if he is less straightforward, especially in politics, than one might wish, his love of strategy may be ascribed to the many years when it took something besides physical courage to save him from the brutality of the turk. even his enemies admit his bravery. in general character, the serb may be compared to the scotch highlander, "brave in battle, with much canniness in prosecuting material interests." all visitors to serbia note the great hospitality of the serb, and he shows a marked courtesy in dealing with others. he is fond of fun and laughter, as any one realizes who sees him at a festival, dancing the national dance--the kolo--to the sound of the flute and the bag-pipe, and often, afterwards, listening to the heroic verse of the guslar as he accompanies them on the gusle. the serb's religion is almost the same as patriotism with him. the orthodox church of serbia to-day has a strong resemblance to the early christian church of the eighth century. "here we know the english very well, and your church is not unlike our own," said a serb to an english traveler recently. the independence of the serbian church is largely due to the fact that the turks did not interfere with the religious faith of the serbs in the long dark night of oppression. though this may have been merely from their contempt for the conquered and their church, the result was to the advantage of the serb. many serbian traditions are contrary to the spirit of the christian church, but the church early found that the only way to hold the serb was to be patient in the hope that christianity would eventually modify his pagan beliefs. in few nations is there such a mingling of heathen traditions and piety. the traditions, yes, even the superstitions of the serb helped him bear the hardships of the turkish reign. while the serb has held fast to christianity for more than a thousand years and while bigotry and atheism are almost unknown in serbia, the serb does not attend church devotedly. he is, however, very faithful to religious customs, though many of these originated in heathendom. the saints are very real to him and each one has duties, yet some of them are very like the gods of mythology. the serb is a great observer of signs and they deeply affect his daily life. his manner of getting up, of dressing, the person whom he first meets in the day, the way the dog barks or the moon shines--all these things have some influence on his actions. many of his superstitions naturally relate to birth, death, and marriage. most youths and maidens know just what to do to discover their future husband or wife. there is poetry in many serb beliefs about death, notably that death can be foretold by the person himself or by some of his family. very beautiful is the idea that there is a star for every person, that disappears when that person dies. the serb has a strong faith in immortality. he believes in both good and bad spirits, and in witches and enchanters, as well as in the poetic vili. he occasionally hunted and killed witches in the olden times. vampires, too, have had an existence in his imagination. to protect himself from all these evil things, the serb of old had various superstitious practices, and it is surprising sometimes to-day to find him cherishing primitive beliefs. as cattle raising for example is certainly one of his chief occupations, many superstitions exist and are put into practice for making the cattle healthy and fat, and for protecting them from wild beasts. the serb also knows what charm to use to make his wheatfields grow, to prevent droughts and other things that might injure his crops or his fruit trees. among all their festivals, the serbs celebrate christmas the most elaborately, with feasts and ceremonies, many of which come down from pagan days. after supper, on christmas eve, seeds and crumbs are scattered outside as a treat for the birds, which, they say, are also god's creatures. a young oak or baidnak always plays a conspicuous part in the christmas festival and the ceremonies attending it are most picturesque. the slava is also a most important festival. it is a family celebration and generally falls on the feast day of some great saint. after a man's death, the same slava is kept by his son. in some regions, people with the same slava do not marry, for having the same slava may mean that they are of the same stock. of all people the serbs are most scrupulous not to marry those who are nearly related to them. while religion is so strongly a part of his daily life, the serb is yet disinclined to engage in abstract religious discussions. this is strange since he is very fond of long political and historical arguments. an english traveler came upon two men engaged in a fisticuff fight. when he inquired the cause, he was told that the two had a disagreement about something that had happened at the battle of kossovo, five hundred years before. although there is less now than in former times of the unique and formal swearing of brotherhood between serb and serb, the feeling of brotherhood is still very strong. travelers through the country sometimes come upon rude stones erected to soldiers who have died "for the glory and freedom of his brother serbs." what has been said about the men applies to a great extent to the women of serbia. it must be admitted, however, that in the interior of the country woman is still reckoned inferior to man--the plaything of youth, the nurse of old age. but the modern serbian woman is coming to the front. she is not strong-minded in the limited sense, not anxious, like her russian kinswoman, to mix in politics, yet she is deeply interested in national affairs and in crises she is always ready to help. if she does not work as hard as the montenegrin woman she still performs much heavy labor. the men of serbia encourage her higher ambition. of late years, many serb women have gone abroad for training as teachers, or to engage in technical work. not infrequently, their expenses have been paid wholly or in part by some brother or cousin whose own earnings were small. to tell what serb women have done in the many wars of their country would be a long story. not content with providing food and clothing for the soldiers and nursing the wounded, time and again they have carried guns and have fought by the side of the men of their families. this was notably the case in the late war with bulgaria, and in the present war also many of them have served as soldiers. the serb woman is not willing to go out as a domestic. she prefers to earn money, if she has to, as a teacher, secretary, or nurse, or in a profession; but in her own home the serb woman does no end of work. she is the first to rise, the last to go to bed, and seems never to rest, for she does all the housework. she spins, weaves, and embroiders; cooks, washes, milks the cows, makes cheese; she takes care of the children and the sick; she makes the family pottery and sometimes the opanke or shoes. but the condition of her country the past few years has to a great extent destroyed the home life of the serb women. very remarkable was the "league of death" the women formed in the war before the present. young and old of all social conditions became good shots, and stood side by side, rifles on their shoulders, like men. they made the men wear the medal of the league. in that war women did not join the fighting troops, as in the present. but they often accompanied them on the march, carrying on notched sticks their heavy bundles with clothes and domestic utensils, and set up their little households wherever the men happened to halt. in the present war, serbia has a three-fold claim on americans: because of the democracy of its institutions and people; because of the simplicity of life as it is lived there; and because of its centuries of struggle for political independence. serbia is one of the most democratic countries in the world. it has no titles, except those of the king and his next of kin. all other serbians are "gospodin" and "gospoja," our "mr." and "mrs." the farmer is the real aristocrat and eighty per cent of the serbians are farmers. the farmer has many things in his favor. even the peasant has five acres of land allotted him by the government; and in his home garden he raises carrots and turnips and pumpkins and melons. the larger farmers raise wheat and corn and sugar beets, oats and all the cereals; and cattle in large numbers. they raise their own food and they are chiefly vegetarians; and they carry their surplus in ox-teams to the nearest market. prices are regulated by the agricultural society. every farmer gives one or two days a year to the state and pays his taxes in kind. when crops fail, the coã¶perative agricultural society lends him money. it also advances money for implements and buildings, and offers prizes for cattle and improved stock. living a simple life, the average serbian needs little money. one dollar in serbia is equal to five dollars here. if a farmer enters trade, he is thought to be going down in the world. he may enter banking or life insurance with no discredit, but the shopkeepers of the country are largely foreigners. in all serbia there are hardly two-score millionaires. serbian women are good housewives and do much of their own work. serbians, in general, are too independent to be servants; and the latter are largely austrians. government employees in serbia are natives. young serbians also are educated for the church, the army, for law, and for school teaching. young men intended for the army generally study in france, for scientific work in germany, for the church in russia. many young serbians, too, have studied in switzerland and in belgium. thus, serbian society as a whole is sympathetic with foreign countries. of the four million inhabitants of serbia proper, the larger number belong to the orthodox greek church, but there are also a good many roman catholics and some moslems. though their life is in general very simple, serbians are not wholly untouched by modern progress. many towns have electric lights and telephones, and electric trams are by no means unknown. serbia has rich mineral resources, which the state is undertaking to develop. among their manufactures is a remarkable wool carpet and a certain kind of coarse linen. though they have a fairly large output of silk, silk fabrics as well as finer textiles are imported. a man who has a salary of three thousand dollars is an exception, and considered very prosperous. salaries of cabinet ministers hardly exceed this sum, and court life does not tend to any magnificence. serbians marry young. there is little illegitimacy in the country and infrequent divorce. they have been called automatically eugenic--on account of their strict marriage laws forbidding marriage under certain degrees of relationship. the serbians are a domestic people, devoted to their children; hence, the present condition of the country is especially tragic. the people of serbia have the greatest admiration for americans, and for the independence and political ideas of america. the valorous struggle of little serbia against austria, its tireless enemy, astonished the world at the beginning of the present war. it accomplished hardly less for the cause of the allies in the east than the resistance of belgium in the west. yet, at first, the sufferings of the more distant serbians attracted less attention than the case demanded. their agony continues acute and terrible. v. serbia: sighing then, at last, serbia reached the sea. unexpectedly, it is true, and not at the point that she had long had in mind. sad and bereft, was she deserted by god as well as by man? as she sat there alone she heard a confused murmur of voices, and she vaguely distinguished the cries of children for their fathers, and wives for their husbands--and tales echoed in her ears that were sadder, more horrible, than the most horrible tales of the turkish night. poor serbia! her garments were torn and stained with snow and mud, her face was bruised. gone, gone her aspect of happy prosperity. yet in spite of all she had suffered there was a light in her eyes--the light of her soul shining through the sadness. she was not bowed down, though her attitude spoke of sorrow. she was disturbed not for herself, but for her people. how they had suffered! she did not try to shut her ears to the murmurs that still came to her--children crying faintly and oh, so pitifully! and strong men, yes, she heard the moaning of strong men. then as she looked in the direction of the sound, she saw a mother bowed in grief beside a long snowy road, yet uttering no word as old men, strangers to her, found a place for the little frozen body under the hard ground. she saw a long, long line winding up the narrow, shelving road, where a false step at any moment might send a man to death into the river five hundred feet below. "the best fighters in the world!" it had made her proud to hear this, but now how could they fight the savage winter? worst place of all, kossovo, where not so long before she had celebrated mass triumphantly, kossovo, again to be as when it was first named "the field of black birds," "the field of vultures." now the stricken lay never to rise again and for a moment serbia could look no longer. there were other things along the road--rifles, and cartridge belts, burdens too heavy to carry far, and she wished that all such things might lie on the ground forever, never to be used by young or old. alas, the little boys! the little boys who had never been away from their mothers--the hope of serbia--dying by thousands along that dreary road; dying, dying on the plain of kossovo. war, for them, a kind of holiday! they were soldiers now; they would be real men when they reached the sea! the little boys, the hope of the future! of the thirty thousand who trod that dreary road, only a half lived to reach the sea. not one-half of these reached the island where they were to have their training as soldiers. the soul of serbia was in agony as a ghostlike army, pale, pinched, and starved, crept over the snowy mountains, over the soggy roads--men, women, and poor dumb animals sinking in to their death. of those who came to the edge of the sea some could hold out no longer, but died when comfort was near. despite the circumstances under which he came to the throne, no one believed that king peter had planned or had anything to do with the murder of alexander and draga; he, the direct descendant of the honest karageorges. yet it could not be denied that he had profited by this murder and, consequently, even when the horror of the whole thing had faded from the minds of other europeans, he had a certain amount of prejudice to overcome. yet in the first ten years of his reign, serbia had prospered. her nearly one thousand miles of railways had brought her in closer connection with the world. though the debt incurred for these railways and other improvements were large she had no trouble in borrowing money. her loans were readily taken by outside capitalists. in the hundred years since she had been freed from turkish rule, serbia had made constant advance in culture, in all that may be called economic life. her peasant farmers not only produced all that the serbians themselves needed--wheat, barley, maize, fruits of various kinds, cattle, and pigs--but there was a demand for some of their staples in other countries, and more and more they required a larger market; more and more they chafed under the restrictions made by austria. the whole country realized, as outsiders had realized, that austria was slowly squeezing her; that austria would be ready to devour her when the right time came. the king had a difficult task in keeping his people contented. politically, however, serbia in the nineteenth century had made great advances, and king peter's domain was a well-organized limited monarchy. after many vicissitudes serbia at last has an excellent constitution, well meeting all the needs of the nation. in the king and the skupchtina is vested all the legislative power. the skupchtina, an assembly elected by proportional representation, has complete control of the national finances. serbia has good courts of justice and a humane prison system, and her standing army not only has to be taken into account by the great powers, but has spoken loudly for itself in the present war. serbia has also good local government; the scheme for which includes two public bodies, a municipal council and a communal tribunal. [illustration: king peter about to leave serbia--november, 1915] serbia, after many years of backwardness, has been paying great attention to education. the minister of education is a man of great prestige and influence. teachers are well trained and well paid. it is not strange, perhaps, that a people with the serbians' deep poetic sensibility should in the past have given little attention to technical training, but a change has of late been coming, a change of attitude that after the war will undoubtedly produce important results. from the earliest days the serb has had a marked aptitude for handicraft. in medieval documents, certain serbian blacksmiths are named as expert makers of penknives, and to-day serbian metal work has high rank. unlike the greek, the serb has little aptitude for trade, and unlike the bulgar, he is rather sluggish in working his farm, slow to use improved methods or new implements. yet, in spite of the many upheavals at home, he has been constantly progressing, and since he threw off turkish rule has each year become sturdier and more self-reliant. indeed, he can be called to-day efficient in both the economic and the military sense. in the middle ages serbia was one of the largest silver-producing countries in europe. her mountains have as yet given up but little of their treasure. the romans knew the mines and brought out of them much gold, silver, iron, and lead and, during the later middle ages, the merchants of ragusa obtained no small portion of their wealth from the same source, but about the middle of the fifteenth century the turks put an end to all enterprises of this kind. in the first half of the last century, mining was revived. belgian capital had a large part in this, especially in producing copper and iron. the copper mines south of passarowitz were said to be among the richest, if not the richest, in the world. but as yet serbia herself hardly appreciated the value of her own resources. her less than one thousand miles of railways had loaded her with a heavy debt. austria had improved the danube--largely, however, for austria's advantage. but serbia began to look about. she was determined to gain, if possible, the economic independence she longed for. with a resourceful king, with a competent ministry headed by the eminent pachich, this ought not to be difficult, she thought, ought to be much less difficult than her long, hard struggle for political independence. the spirit of the serb has been shown in the remarkable development of coã¶peration in industry, especially in the twentieth century. "only union is serbia's salvation"--this was st. sava's famous saying in the distant twelfth century. politically, his words had proved true for serbia, and economically they had begun to show their value, especially in king peter's reign. one reason for the success of nineteenth century coã¶peration in serbia may be found in the zadruga of ancient times. this was a large family association including male kinship to the second and the third degree. it often numbered more than a hundred individuals; each member had a fixed duty and the revenues were divided among all the members. the zadruga was ruled by an elder or stareschina. sometimes the stareschina was a woman. the stareschina kept the money-box and attended to the payment of taxes. the women of the zadruga obeyed the stareschina's wife. this kind of community life was so familiar to the serbs that it was no unusual thing when some one asked, "whose is that drove of sheep?" to hear the reply "ours," never "mine." in literature, in science, in art, the serb had begun to take his rightful place in europe, encouraged by the example of a large-minded, cultured monarch. serbia had long realized that within her boundaries lived hardly half of the serb race in europe. the feeling of brotherhood with all his kin which is so powerful a characteristic of the individual serb is even more marked in the serbian nation. a generation ago serbia was willing to go to war with turkey to help her downtrodden kindred in bosnia and herzegovina. "the saving of old serbia and the union of the serb peoples is the star by which the serb steers," said a traveler in the early part of king peter's reign, and certainly to the liberty-loving serb this was a beautiful vision--that he was sometime to liberate from turkish and from austrian control all his oppressed brothers, the four and a half millions whom the twentieth century found so restive under turkish, teutonic, or magyar control. for serbia, then, her entrance into the balkan league in 1912 was a natural sequence of many of her previous aspirations and efforts. in presence of a common danger--the teuton working through the turk--the balkan states put aside their own particular rivalries and formed a union. this was effective, and the turks were defeated. but when turkey was defeated, bulgaria and serbia were again at sword's points. it was not a question of jealousies between small kingdoms, but rather a larger issue--pan-slavism as against pan-teutonism. serbs, wherever found, were outspoken, and austria saw that she might have to give up not only her hope of adding serbia to her dominions but besides this lose her dominion over the serbs within the dual monarchy. from that time she hardly tried to hide her intention of punishing serbia for her ambition. serbia, meanwhile, was growing bolder, stronger. though her successes in recent wars had not given her her coveted seaport, she had found ways of getting a considerable proportion of her products to market without sending them through austria. her imports from austria fell off largely. austria and germany saw that they would have difficulty in making serbia a docile ward, especially as m. pachich in 1912 had made it plain to the other powers that it would be to their advantage to give serbia a chance to expand. it was eleven years almost to a day from the time he came to the throne, when peter's security was shattered by an explosion. the archduke ferdinand, heir to the austrian throne, and his wife, while making a tour through bosnia, were killed at sarajevo by a serb, not one of the kingdom of serbia but a serb of greater serbia. austria, that had been for so long watching serbia as a cat watches a mouse, quickly pounced on the little kingdom. she made demands such as no civilized country could comply with, and at last gave an ultimatum on the twenty-seventh of july which had far-reaching consequences. it was a stone thrown into a quiet pool and the ripples and eddies reached unthought-of shores, as the whole world now knows. there are many strange circumstances connected with this murder. those who have followed out the various clues have seen evidence that the serb government had no knowledge of the proposed murder, but there is much that tends to show that the assassination was not a great surprise to austria--that ferdinand, even at home, was in fear of his life. he always slept in a room without furniture and not long before the assassination he had taken out a life insurance, the largest life insurance known. in case of his death, it was necessary to make provision for his consort who could hope nothing from the house of which he had long been the heir. when ferdinand's heir had a son born to him, the austrians turned against ferdinand and wished him out of the way. his removal, indeed, was a greater object to austria-hungary than to serbia, for it was generally known that he was liberal in his ideas regarding the serbs in the dual monarchy, and had even formed a plan for giving them home rule. from the beginning austria-hungary tried to impress on the world that the shooting of archduke ferdinand was part of a revolt of the southern slav provinces of austria instigated by the serbian government. on the twenty-third of july, austria sent an ultimatum to serbia demanding that she use every means in her power to punish the assassins and stop all further anti-austrian propaganda. the next day, russia asked for delay, and on july twenty-fifth, ten minutes before the time of the ultimatum expired, serbia made due apologies and agreed to all the conditions imposed by austria except the one that austria should have official representatives in the work of investigation. two days later, the austrian foreign office issued a statement with these words: "serbia's note is filled with the spirit of dishonesty." austria was determined on war. she had not accepted serbia's apologies. then the great slav came to the rescue of the smaller. russia immediately notified austria that she would not allow serbian territory to be invaded. now it was germany's turn. she let it be known semi-officially that she stood ready to back austria. no one, she said, must interfere between austria-hungary and serbia. on this twenty-seventh of july sir edward gray, great britain's foreign secretary, proposed a london conference of the ambassadors of all the great powers. france and italy at once accepted but austria and germany declined this invitation. on the twenty-eighth of july came the fateful call to war. "austria-hungary considers itself in a state of war with serbia." the reason given for this was that serbia had not replied satisfactorily to austria's note of the twenty-third of july. events followed in quick succession. russia's mobilization was followed by a request from germany that she stop this movement of the troops and make a reply within twenty-four hours. whereupon england notified germany that she could not stand aloof from a general conflict; that the balance of power could not be destroyed. russia made no reply to germany's ultimatum but instead sent out a manifesto: "russia is determined not to allow serbia to be crushed and will fulfil its duty in regard to that small kingdom." next, the german ambassador at the french foreign office expressed fear of friction between the triple alliance and the triple entente unless the impending conflict between austria and serbia should be strictly localized. on august first, the german ambassador handed a declaration of war to the russian foreign minister. this meant war with france, and hardly had the french government issued general mobilization orders when the invasion of france began. a day later, germany demanded of belgium free passage for her troops, and the french government proclaimed martial law in france and algiers. all continental europe was now aflame. the german ambassador had made a strong bid for british neutrality, and great britain's reply was noble. after speaking of its friendship with france it concluded with the words: "whether that friendship involves obligations, let every man look into his own heart and construe that obligation for himself." on the fourth of august, after italy had proclaimed her neutrality, england's ultimatum was sent to germany. when no reply came, the british foreign office announced that a state of war existed between the two countries and germany gave the british ambassador his passport. a day later, president wilson offered the good offices of the united states to bring about a settlement between the warring powers. on the seventh of august, a day after austria-hungary had declared war on russia, germany announced that jealousy of germany was the real cause of the war. on the ninth of august, serbia, in order to get rid of the german ambassador, declared war on germany and, finally, war was declared between france and austria, and austria and great britain. portugal reported that she was on the side of great britain. soon austrian troops were invading serbia, three to one. on the twenty-seventh of july, the serbian army had mobilized. it had barely recuperated from the recent war with bulgaria and, while men were in trim for fighting, the army was ill equipped and to an extent unprepared for a new war. this in itself shows the folly of the accusation that the serbian government had encouraged the murder of the archduke in order to precipitate a war with austria. an additional bit of evidence in serbia's favor, if more were needed, was the fact that when the archduke was murdered, many serbian officials and other men of importance were at german or austrian watering-places and had difficulty in getting back to their homes and their duties. little of the war material destroyed in the recent conflict with bulgaria had been replaced and even when the serbs took the field they had not sufficient ammunition, for much of their ammunition was french and, owing to conditions in france, the latter country could no longer supply serbia with what she needed. yet by the middle of august the armies of the crown prince in a five days' engagement, the battle of jadar, sent the austrians across the river, and out of serbia. in dead and wounded the invaders had lost about twice as many as the serbs, as well as a large amount of ordnance and stores. they returned in september, but after inflicting much damage on the country were again defeated and again driven out of serbia about the middle of december. serbia, invaded by an army three times as large as her own, fought valiantly and drove the austrians outside her kingdom, not, however, until much damage had been done. not only had she many wounded but the invader destroyed everything, even the property of non-combatants who had remained passive on their farms. so viciously had the austrians treated the non-combatants that all who could fled the country toward macedonia. crops were seized; cattle were killed or taken away; farms and implements destroyed, and in fact the whole country was laid waste. [illustration: serbian villagers on their way to exile] perhaps in no better way can the barbarous methods of the austrian invader be understood than from a quotation from an appeal made by the serbian archbishop. "the barbarous methods of warfare of the german allies, the object of which is to annihilate other nations and their culture, have inflicted on us, as well as on the belgians, bloody and incurable wounds. whole crowds of our best and noblest serbs, who as non-combatants peacefully received the austrian army, have been killed with a cruelty of which even savages would be ashamed. men and women, old men and innocent children have been murdered by terrible tortures, by arms, and by fire. many have been locked up in school buildings and other houses and burnt alive. all the churches to which the austrians got access have been desecrated, robbed, and destroyed. the schools and the best houses have fared in the same way. belgrade, the beautiful capital of serbia, its churches, its educational and humanitarian institutions, have been destroyed. the university, the national library, the museum, and scientific collections, have been ruined. for those who have escaped, and for the orphans of the fallen, speedy help is most necessary." said madame grouitch an eye witness of these depredations, "imagine the farming districts of our middle states charred and trampled, and everything killed. this would give you a faint idea of serbia after the austrians first entered it." when they approached belgrade at the very beginning of the war, within six hours they were shelling the city and killing women and children. in other cities, as at shabats, for example, they did many things from what seemed a mere spirit of wantonness, emptying the contents of shops into the streets and carrying away property that could hardly have been of use to them. but while they devastated the country they had entered and terrified the non-combatants, they had few engagements with the serbian soldiers worthy the name of battle. it was during this second invasion that king peter especially endeared himself to his men. in one instance where they were growing disheartened, he entered the trenches and discharging his rifle as a signal, led them to victory. the serbs from the beginning of the war felt confidence in their leaders--the crown prince, putnik, misich, pasich, the king. the serbian soldiers were gathering strength. the world knew before this that they were brave fighters; since that autumn of 1914 they have known that they are unsurpassed. facing an enemy that outnumbered them three to one, they did not flinch, and by the 20th of december the austrians were driven out of serbia--not to return for nearly a year. during that year, however, the austrians from the other side of the danube were constantly bombarding belgrade, while the inhabitants for the most part went about their business as usual. the army, which had early been ordered out of the city in a vain effort to save belgrade from bombardment, was now putting itself in good condition. the return of the invaders was certain, the time less sure. all that serbia could do was to spare no effort to put herself in the best condition to meet the inevitable attacks of the foe. the hospitals were full of wounded and serbian women and nurses from outside were doing their best for the serbian soldiers and for the many sick austrian soldiers, when the dreadful typhus broke out. but for famine and disease during their fatal six months serbia might still be on her feet. her tragic condition interested the whole world, unwilling to see the women relatives of a million fighters suffering, aye, even dying. the first invasion resulted in taking away from their home the majority of the peasants who had remained behind to provide food. the invaders did not even respect the hospitals--they cut off the water supplies so that the nurses could not even provide for the sick. during those months of disease the black flag hung over hundreds of houses in every serbian town. the whole country was demoralized, for many officials had lost their lives. the fever was so virulent that it may be said that no country has ever suffered so severely. the typhus that broke out in the early part of 1915 came from the bad sanitary condition of the austrian prison camps, and serbia, weakened by war, was in no condition to resist. several thousands a day died in the early months of that year. in six of the most fertile districts, more than half of the children died--of hunger, cold, and exposure as well as of disease--and it was not until the red cross physicians and others from various countries took hold, that the disease abated. meanwhile, men of serbia were fighting bravely and hopefully until an advancing wave of teutons swept over the country and the populace fled. it had been wiser, perhaps, if non-combatants had stayed in their homes, but so fearful were the atrocities reported, the atrocities committed by the german armies in belgium and elsewhere, that retreat seemed wisest. many serbian soldiers, however, wished to stay and face the invader until they could fight no longer. but they would have had to fight with three against their one. the hordes rushing on were beyond belief--germans, austrians, and bulgarians. the humbler people might with less danger have stayed behind, but the government, naturally, could not remain in its capital and there were many others upon whom a price was set. when once the retreat began it rolled up by tens of thousands, and this human flood could not be stopped. it was a spectacular flight. all the private vehicles that the government could get together; all the motor trucks which could be collected; all in one great procession, peasants carrying their household goods in bundles over their shoulders--chiefly old men and women, for the young men were in the army; young women carrying babies in their arms with little children clinging to their skirts were following close behind. those in motor vehicles did not have a painless journey. often their cars broke down; they were thrown into the mud from which they were with difficulty rescued. sometimes a car and its occupants fell from the precipice into the foaming river below. they went over mountains as high as our alleghanies and as wild as our rockies. sometimes they passed feudal castles on steep rocks; sometimes they went through dangerous passes and slept in the open, fearing attacks from the murderous albanians, who were certainly to be dreaded. for not a few of the poor pilgrims met death at the hands of these cut-throats. for days and days, they moved on in the drenching rain, cold and starving! and it was not only the animals that succumbed to the horror of the march; old men and women, children, and soldiers who once had been strong at last had to give up and lie down in death. constantly they were in dread of the approaching enemy, whose guns after a while they could hear rumbling in the distance. but they kept moving on toward the sea, where they expected ships to take them to a safer country. the wraith of an army reached the sea and the wraith of an army of non-combatants,--all of this suffering merely to find a haven from the advancing teutonic armies! perhaps those men were right who had refused to retreat, who had begged for death by a comrade's gun rather than have the dishonor of turning backs to the enemy. though they saw that the conquest of serbia was inevitable, it was hard to admit that they were beaten. at last, after all this hardship, when the poor serbians reached the adriatic, they found no food! transports loaded with food had been sunk in the harbors! weary, starving, they must wait a little longer. was there ever before such a flight? the retreat of one civilized nation before another; the flight of a whole people, government, soldiers, non-combatants, and all because of the rumors of the terrors the pursuer would inflict if he caught his prey! at the sea they breathed more freely--they could look across the water and there, far, far beyond, lay the lands where for centuries the weaker had not been sorely oppressed. [illustration: serbian soldiers on the banks of the drina] then the wraith of an army began to hope; and on the island the soldiers were recuperating, and the little boys--a quarter of those who had poured into the great procession from all the roads, from every little village, from every town--the dead, would not swell the triumph of the victors. those by the sea rested and grew stronger; and after a while the world began to hear that serbia, deprived of her country, a nation living in exile, was getting ready to claim her own. she was now one of the allies. her army could give an account of itself. "poor serbia!" they had said. "plucky serbia!" they were now saying, and it was even possible to imagine the world crying, "lucky serbia!" the soldiers recuperating at corfu; the women working at corsica making the wonderful embroideries that had given serbia fame the world over; the downtrodden under the feet of the conqueror, living in shattered dwellings in serbian town and village, and praying, praying for the restoration of their homes, hiding their tears while they worked or prayed or nursed the sick--all, all working for serbia. then those people who recognize heroism, those people who admire patience and silent bravery, those people who long had cried, "plucky serbia!" who had long been working for serbia, now worked the harder, and other workers joined them, until there were few sections of the globe where there was not a group working for serbia. the remnant of the army, too, worked harder than ever, training, gathering strength, adding to its numbers,--and at last it was ready. then serbia had a vision of the men who had made her great--vladimir, who first showed that union is strength; michael, her earliest king, and stephen nemanya, who gave her a real kingdom, and stephen dushan, whose dreams of a serb empire had given her glory; then lazar grebelyanovitch, her brave and generous defender at kossovo. again, after her long sleep, karageorges, heroic and just, grandsire of king peter; and last, milos obrenovitch, whose cleverness had laid the foundation for much of her present good. had she changed too quickly from the old patriarchal system before she could rightly replace it? all this time, she now realized too well, she had been only half-educated. it was easy enough for the great nations to criticize her, forgetful of the long past years when they were in her condition, yet none of them could deny her her heroic past. then serbia looked toward the sea. she no longer felt the pain of her grief and her bruises; she was no longer alone. friendly hands reached out to her on every side, and beyond the sea lay noble england, and strong canada, and heroic france--allies fighting for her, for her who might never be able to reward them; and, nearer to her, she could see fair italy, magnificent russia, and brave montenegro and roumania. all, all had been fighting for her, for in fighting for liberty, they fought for the oppressed of the whole world. they had been fighting her battles--the battles of the days of her strength. and there, farther off, was friendly america. for the moment she saw her ideal state--the union of serb countries into one independent national state--a serbian or a croato-serb monarchy. then, a shout, a clamor of voices, "monastir! monastir! serbia! serbia!" not a year since that awful retreat, and now the long exile was nearing its end. king peter, and the crown prince, the government, the whole nation were hurrying home! "there is no death without the appointed day," chants the old pesma. serbia will live! book was produced from images made available by the hathitrust digital library.) [transcriber's note: bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.] our little roumanian cousin the little cousin series (trade mark) each volume illustrated with six or more full page plates in tint. cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover per volume, 60 cents list of titles by mary hazelton wade, mary f. nixon-roulet, blanche mcmanus, clara v. winlow, florence e. mendel and others =our little african cousin= =our little alaskan cousin= =our little arabian cousin= =our little argentine cousin= =our little armenian cousin= =our little australian cousin= =our little austrian cousin= =our little belgian cousin= =our little bohemian cousin= =our little boer cousin= =our little brazilian cousin= =our little bulgarian cousin= =our little canadian cousin= =our little chinese cousin= =our little cossack cousin= =our little cuban cousin= =our little danish cousin= =our little dutch cousin= =our little egyptian cousin= =our little english cousin= =our little eskimo cousin= =our little french cousin= =our little german cousin= =our little grecian cousin= =our little hawaiian cousin= =our little hindu cousin= =our little hungarian cousin= =our little indian cousin= =our little irish cousin= =our little italian cousin= =our little japanese cousin= =our little jewish cousin= =our little korean cousin= =our little malayan (brown) cousin= =our little mexican cousin= =our little norwegian cousin= =our little panama cousin= =our little persian cousin= =our little philippine cousin= =our little polish cousin= =our little porto rican cousin= =our little portuguese cousin= =our little roumanian cousin= =our little russian cousin= =our little scotch cousin= =our little servian cousin= =our little siamese cousin= =our little spanish cousin= =our little swedish cousin= =our little swiss cousin= =our little turkish cousin= the page company 53 beacon street, boston, mass. [illustration: "offered him his hand." (_see page 23_)] our little roumanian cousin by clara vostrovsky winlow author of "our little bohemian cousin," "our little bulgarian cousin," etc. _illustrated by_ charles e. meister [illustration] boston the page company mdccccxvii _copyright 1917, by_ the page company _all rights reserved_ first impression, july, 1917 preface in southern europe are a number of comparatively small countries known as the balkan states, which remind one very much of quarrelsome children whose troubles have to be straightened out by older brothers and sisters. many years ago there were more independent and partially independent states than now. two of these little principalities called walachia and moldavia found that they could better protect themselves from their neighbors if they stood together. so they combined under one government, and the present country of roumania was formed in 1857. in its native form the name of this country was "romania," representing the claim of the inhabitants to descent from the roman legions that colonized the country. these colonists, who called themselves "romani," or "rumeni," came from the carpathian lands and the present transylvania in the early middle ages. when once started, roumania grew quite strong as a state. the people wanted to learn, and improve their condition, and there is no better example of this than their farming, for this country has become one of the greatest grain exporting countries in europe. this was done, for one thing, by giving up their old-fashioned wooden plows, which just scratched the surface of the ground, and using modern steel plows from other countries which turned the ground over, just as our plows do. the roumanian men and women are strong and sturdy, and the men are noted for their bravery and hardiness. so, among the roumanian children, we find hardy, manly little boys and cheerful, if serious-minded, little girls. however, they like to play, just as do all of our little foreign cousins. this little book tells about their everyday games and pastimes, how they live, and how they dress. the brave fathers and brothers of our little roumanian cousins took their places in the battle line to defend their homes in the great war that is now being fought in europe. no one knows what the outcome of this terrible struggle will be. will roumania be destroyed, or will she emerge a greater and more powerful country, standing for liberty and justice? time only will tell. contents chapter page preface v i. the doctor prescribes 1 ii. jonitza gets interested 7 iii. the trip to the country 13 iv. the journey's end 22 v. getting acquainted 26 vi. an excursion 33 vii. st. george's day 38 viii. the castle of stephen the great 47 ix. a spinning bee 52 x. new plans 59 xi. in the carpathians 62 xii. in the carpathians (continued) 70 xiii. leaving the mountains 77 xiv. the capital of roumania 86 xv. the national dance 92 xvi. at the market 99 xvii. good-by 105 list of illustrations page "offered him his hand." (_see page 23_) _frontispiece_ "'we stood as if paralyzed'" 45 "it was only maritza" 51 "there . . . lay two long shiny snakes" 72 "'will you not let me take you home in the car?'" 100 "something carefully covered with a sheet was carried mysteriously into jonitza's room" 109 our little roumanian cousin chapter i the doctor prescribes jonitza lay sprawled out on the warm carpet in the living-room near a big brick stove that reached almost to the ceiling. beside him were his playthings and two picture books with fancy covers, but he kicked his slippered feet discontentedly at them, until his mother, seated at the other end of the room, arose, put down her sewing, and with a scarcely audible sigh, picked them up and laid them on the table. jonitza paid no attention. ever since he had been seriously ill the month before, he had grown accustomed to having people wait on him. he now turned on his back and began tracing in the air with his finger the pretty stenciled patterns that covered the walls. tiring of that, he started beating a monotonous tattoo with one foot, until his mother, with the faintest shade of impatience, said: "i think you'd better get up. you've been lying on the floor for a whole hour doing nothing." jonitza arose languidly, stretched himself, and walking over to one of the big double windows, plumped himself down into a deep arm chair in front of it. jonitza's home was a very comfortable one-story house in the city of galatz, one of the leading ports on the danube river, near the border line between moldavia and wallachia, the two provinces which with dobrudja, make up the kingdom of roumania. it was in one of the best residence districts, at one end of a high earth cliff. somewhat below this cliff extended the flat level of the lower town, made up principally of mills and business houses, immense warehouses for grain, much of which is exported from roumania, and wharves stretching out to the river. the little boy could not see much of this, but far below, in between the scattered apricot-trees and lilac bushes in the garden, he could just get a glimpse of an interesting procession of rude carts to which bullocks or buffaloes were harnessed, toiling slowly upward on a wide road. he had become so interested in the struggles of one cart that looked as if it were loaded with the enormous reeds that are used for fuel by the poorer people of galatz that he did not hear the bell ring and so was quite unprepared to have a hand suddenly laid on his shoulder and to look up into the smiling face of the family doctor. jonitza had a guilty feeling without knowing why and tried his best to scowl and look away. it wasn't easy though. "why aren't you out-of-doors?" the doctor asked in a surprised tone. it was jonitza's turn to be surprised. "why," he stammered, "it's--too cold," here he shivered, "i--i--i am not well enough." "what nonsense!" the doctor said. "the air is delightful. i've been traveling around half the day in it. and, even granting that you're not well--why, fresh air is the only thing that will make you well." jonitza suppressed a yawn and looked listlessly about him. the doctor shrugged his shoulders as he said: "i see i must leave a new prescription for you." saying this, he tore a leaf from his note-book, hastily wrote something on it, folded it, and handed it to jonitza's mother who stood near by, with: "please treat what is written here seriously, mrs. popescu. i shall have more to say regarding it to your husband. now i must hurry away." but mrs. popescu barred the entrance. "not until you have had some coffee," she said. at the same moment, a maid entered with a tray on which were coffee and sweets, the refreshments usually handed to visitors in roumania. the doctor took a taste of the coffee and one of the sweetmeats and laughingly remarked as he left: "it's only fresh air that keeps _me_ from breaking down under the régime to which _i_ am subjected." it was only after the door had closed behind him that mrs. popescu unfolded the paper that he had given her. as she glanced over it she gave an exclamation that caused her son to look up inquiringly. "come here," she said to him, and, when he approached, she put her arms around him. "the doctor asked this to be taken seriously, and he has ordered--" jonitza's eyes grew round with something like terror, as he fixed them on her. "it's nothing bad. do look natural," his mother hastily continued. "he has simply ordered me--to take you to spend a month on a farm near some springs in the foot-hills!" chapter ii jonitza gets interested evidently the doctor did see jonitza's father, for before the week was ended it had been definitely decided that as soon as the weather was a little warmer mrs. popescu would leave with her son for a month's stay in the country. jonitza had been a trifle interested at first, then he had grumbled, and, finally, he had resumed the languid air that was so peculiarly trying to those about him. there was one thing in particular that he rebelled against even in his languid state and that was the fact that every afternoon he was now bundled up and ordered out-of-doors for an hour. "i don't want to go," he would say every time; and every time his mother would kiss him and answer sweetly, "it is for your own good. we must do what the doctor orders." then he would go out into the garden with its lilac and acacia bushes that were just beginning to show leaf buds and walk slowly up and down or stand first on one foot and then on the other as if unable to decide what to do. but one day things went differently. whether it was due to the air having a genuine spring flavor for the first time that year, or to the fact that it was a holiday and he had been left at home with a couple of servants, or to the fact that the departure for the foot-hills had been definitely set for the first day of the following week, or to some other entirely different cause, in any case there was quite an alert look about the boy and even something of a sparkle in his eyes. maritza, the maid, noticed it and remarked to the cook: "master jonitza looks quite spry to-day. if he were well, i'd warrant he would get into some mischief." then she forgot all about him. a group of boys that jonitza knew slightly passed by and one seeing him called out: "come on with us. we're going to the marsh." to his own surprise, jonitza called back, "all right," and joined them. when they reached a marshy plain bordering on the danube some of the boys left them, and jonitza found himself alone with two boys, both younger than himself. all three were tired from the walk, and finding the stump of an old tree, sat down on it and amused themselves counting the ducks that they saw. suddenly something that his tutor had told him occurred to jonitza. "do you know," he said, "that there are more varieties of ducks on the danube than in most parts of the world? let's see how many different ones we can make out." the little boys did not take kindly to the suggestion. "i am hungry," one of them said; "let's go home." so back the three began to trudge, now and then throwing a stone into the air, or, when they could, into the water. jonitza felt more tired than he cared to confess to the two youngsters and inwardly planned to lie down as soon as he came within doors. "i'll be home in less than fifteen minutes, now!" he suddenly exclaimed, thinking aloud. "how can you and see me dance?" said a voice behind him so unexpectedly that jonitza jumped. turning, he saw a laughing peasant all decorated with tiny bells. "oh, jolly!" the other boys shouted. "there's going to be a dance! come on!" those little bells must have said "come on" too, for jonitza found himself trying to keep up with the peasant's rapid strides. down in the lower town, before one of the old domed churches, they found a crowd gathered. although there was nothing unusual about such a gathering, one could see from the faces that something unusual was expected. it was not a silent expectation, however. everywhere people were talking and laughing and a few young men were even singing. as soon as the peasant with bells appeared, a shout arose. at the same instant a troop of other peasants, all attired in their gay embroidered national costumes, with bells at their girdles and on their sleeves, came in a body into the square, and taking their places began to dance and shout and sing and stamp their feet. some one said this was the pyrrhic dance that was sacred in ancient mythology, and that had come to the roumanians from their roman forefathers; a dance to prevent saturn from hearing the voice of his infant son jupiter, lest he devour him. whether this explained it or not there was no doubt of the audience liking it, for at its conclusion all clapped their hands and burst into boisterous exclamations of delight. jonitza, feeling some of the excitement, clapped too, and no longer conscious of any tired feeling waited until almost every one had gone before he made his way slowly home. chapter iii the trip to the country on tuesday of the following week jonitza, his mother, and the maid maritza, after a short trip on the train, were being driven over the vast level and wonderfully fertile plains of roumania, that stretched before them like a great green sea. there were already signs that the short spring that roumania has would soon change into summer. wild flowers were to be seen here and there and birds twittered and flew about. the way lay among thatched farm-houses whose gleaming walls showed that they had been freshly whitewashed at easter. now and then a peasant seated in a rude wagon, drawn by beautiful, creamy, short-legged oxen with wide-spreading horns, saluted them gravely. at a little elevation in the road they passed a group of dug-outs called _bordei_, with turf-covered roofs and shapeless clay chimneys. the windows in these _bordei_ were merely irregular holes in the mud walls. at the door leading down into one of these primitive houses stood an attractive looking woman, with a bright yellow kerchief over her head, and another around her neck. she was busily spinning while she crooned a lullaby to a baby who lay blinking its eyes in an oval wooden box swinging from the branches of a tree near by. not far from these _bordei_ was a cemetery filled with crosses of the oddest possible shapes. it really seemed as if the people had tried to find a new design for each new grave. they passed wayside crosses also, before some of which peasants were kneeling in prayer. but, despite these interesting things, there was something tiring in the long journey over the monotonously level plains, and jonitza grew more and more restless. his pretty mother noticed it and drawing him to her she began to tell him the most interesting stories. first of all about trajan, the great roman emperor, who came to their country so many centuries ago and conquered the people who then inhabited it. she described to him the great column in rome commemorating his victory, and told him how proud every roumanian was that he was descended from the soldiers that the emperor left to guard the new possessions. "is that why we call the thunder trajan's voice?" asked jonitza. "perhaps," his mother answered. "we certainly love to call things by his name." "the milky way is trajan's road, isn't it?" again inquired jonitza. his mother nodded. "the boys call the ditch by the lumber mill trajan's moat," jonitza continued. his mother smiled. "roumania is full of trajan's moats; it would be hard to find a village that hasn't one. there are many interesting stories," continued his mother, "connected with our history. you know, from your tutor, that the section of roumania in which we live is called moldavia. would you like to hear the old legend as to how it got its name?" "please tell it to me," her son answered eagerly, his eyes sparkling with interest. "once upon a time," began his mother, "a prince called bogdan lived in this part of the world. now, bogdan had a dog whom he valued above all the other dogs that he owned. "one day, while out hunting, this dog, whose name was molda, caught sight of a buffalo and chased it to the very brink of a river. when the terrified buffalo waded into the water the dog in his excitement followed, was caught in the current and drowned. "when his followers saw how deeply affected by the dog's death bogdan was, they pursued the buffalo, killed it, and taking its head back with them, nailed it over the entrance to the palace. "but this did not lessen the prince's grief. whenever possible he would go to the river's banks to mourn. the people, seeing him there, would repeat the story, so that after a while the river became associated with the name of the dog and was spoken of as the moldava. gradually the name, slightly modified, was applied also to all of the surrounding country." "please tell me more stories about moldavia," begged jonitza, when his mother had been silent for some time. "listen then to the story of movila," again began his mother, glad to see that the restless look had left her son's face. "this is a story of king stephen who was great in mind but very small in body. once in a battle with hungarians his horse was killed under him. as the horse fell, the king was caught by one of his heralds, a man as large as stephen was small. after assisting him to his feet, the herald offered stephen his own horse. the king looked up at the big animal with a frown, but the herald, kneeling before him, placed stephen's foot on his shoulder and exclaimed: 'oh, prince, allow me to serve you as a mole-hill.' "'mole-hill,' returned stephen, getting on the horse, 'i will make a mountain of you.' "then fortune favored stephen and soon the victory was his. no sooner was he back in camp than he sent for the herald. when the latter came, he found stephen surrounded by his court. 'herald,' said stephen, 'thou hast served me as a mole-hill. in return i give thee the name of movila (little mountain). thou shalt have no other. thou gavest me thy horse in my need. in return, i give thee five full domains over which thou shalt rule.'" the carriage here stopped before a tiny tavern in a little vineyard surrounded town. they were disappointed in finding that they could get nothing for lunch except raw onions with salt and _mamaliga_, the cold corn meal mush that is eaten everywhere throughout peasant roumania. at first mrs. popescu thought they would eat from their own well-filled lunch basket, but when maritza remarked that _mamaliga_ was really very good, she changed her mind. then, as they seated themselves before a table on the vine-covered veranda, she asked maritza to tell them how the _mamaliga_ is prepared. "the water must be hot," said the maid, "before the meal is stirred into it. you continue stirring until it is almost done, then you can add a little grated cheese. at our house, when it is well cooked, we put it into a cloth and tie it up." here some dried fish which the owner of the tavern had perhaps not intended to serve at first, were laid on the table. "these fish have a nice flavor," remarked mrs. popescu. "i know how they also are prepared," said maritza, "for my brother has helped get them ready." "suppose you tell us about it, maritza," said mrs. popescu, evidently not wishing the party to hurry. "very well, ma'am," consented the maid. "first, a kind of basket work of osiers is built up. this is covered with walnut leaves in which the fish are wrapped. the building is then filled with smoke for several days, or until the fish look yellow and smell good. they are then taken down, made into bundles and surrounded by pine-tree branches, which add a new flavor to them that most people like." here the tavern-keeper again appeared with a bottle of the damson plum brandy for which roumania is famous. but mrs. popescu shook her head. "not this time," she said smiling. from this little town the journey was a steady climb upward amid oak, beech and lime-trees. there were more crosses along the roadside. in one spot there was a large group of them, all brightly painted and roofed over. it was not until late in the afternoon that they came in sight of the village near which the farm lay where they were to stay for a while. full of expectations of a good supper, they drove past it and on to a pleasant and prosperous looking dwelling. in the front of the broad veranda an interesting group stood waiting to welcome them. chapter iv the journey's end the medium-sized, vigorous-looking man who formed one of the group on the veranda, hurried forward to meet them. he was dark with long black wavy hair. he wore white woolen trousers, a sort of big sleeved tunic or shirt of coarse but very clean linen, well belted in at the waist by a broad scarlet woolen scarf. over this was a sleeveless sheepskin jacket, the wool inside, the outside gayly embroidered. on his feet were goatskin sandals. his wife was slender and quite fair. like her husband, she was evidently wearing a holiday dress. this was a white gown covered with red and black embroidery, a brightly colored apron, and several necklaces of colored beads and coins. a gay kerchief, fringed with a row of spangles, was set well back on her light brown hair. she also advanced to meet the newcomers. a bright-eyed boy of about twelve and a very pretty girl about four years younger were left standing and staring by the doorway. after greetings had been exchanged and all had descended from the carriage, the farmer said something to his son who immediately went up to jonitza and offered him his hand. at the same time he proposed showing him the grounds while supper was being placed on the table. jonitza at once accepted the offer. he was anxious to see what was outside, and, besides, his legs felt so stiff from the long ride that he longed to exercise them. neither of the boys spoke at first, although they glanced shyly at each other now and then. at a corner of the house the ice was broken in an unexpected fashion. they walked right into a flock of geese who set up a "honk! honk!" and made a peck at jonitza who happened to disturb them most. taken by surprise, jonitza jumped awkwardly to one side. nicolaia, his companion, could not restrain a laugh. the next minute, evidently fearing that he had hurt his new acquaintance's feelings, he put his hand on his shoulder in a friendly way and suggested a visit to the pigs. "katinka," he called to his sister, who was shyly following them, "go get something to take to the pigs." katinka turned obediently and ran into the house. she soon reappeared, carefully holding a pan. the pigs proved worth visiting. they were of the wild boar species with an upright row of funny hard bristles on their backs. they were so full of play, too, that jonitza was genuinely sorry to hear the call to supper. "it's just splendid here!" he whispered to his mother as he saw her for an instant alone before entering the big kitchen which served also as dining-room. jonitza now noticed that although the farmer and his son had kept their hats on in the house, they were careful to remove them before sitting down to the meal. this meal was quite an elaborate one. there was fishroe and olives, mutton and cheese, and rye bread about two inches thick and pierced all over with a fork. this was broken, not cut. there was also a kind of _mamaliga_ cooked in milk and called _balmosch_. this was placed on the table on a big wooden platter, cut with a string, and eaten with layers of cheese. chapter v getting acquainted jonitza and his mother were out early next morning after a breakfast of bacon and _mamaliga_. the farm-house at which they were staying looked attractive in its cleanliness. it had been recently whitewashed and the doors and window frames painted a bright blue. it was built entirely of timber. the roof consisted of thin strips of wood laid closely row upon row. near the house were some fruit-trees and lilac bushes and a small flower garden in which basil and gilliflowers, so often mentioned in roumanian folk songs, were conspicuous. inside, the big living-room had a comfortable, homey air. the walls were partially covered with hand-woven tapestries. in one corner was a huge dutch looking stove, while opposite, under an ikon, stood the primitive loom that is still to be seen in all roumanian farm-houses. besides the table on which the meals were served, there were some plain three-legged chairs, a large chest, a smaller table on which the basket of easter eggs still stood, and a sort of couch which served nicolaia as a bed at night. its corn husk mattress had a pretty cover with an embroidered ruffle over it in the daytime. the straw pillows then changed their clothes for more fancy ones and were placed evenly against the wall. jonitza was anxious to show his mother the sportive pigs and he lost no time in marching her to them. when she had expressed sufficient admiration, they wandered to the well with its long sweep to which a rock was attached, and crossed themselves before the brightly painted crosses that were on each side of it. katinka came out with a pitcher while they stood there, and knelt in prayer before the crosses before drawing up the water. "where is nicolaia?" they asked her. she pointed to the cow-shed where they found him hard at work. he smiled at them in greeting. "this is my job," he said, "until i take the sheep to pasture in the mountains, for my mother is to let me do so this year." jonitza watched his robust companion with some envy as he went cheerfully about what he had to do. nicolaia did it all easily and quickly; at the same time he did not neglect to make an occasional pleasant remark, and he did this with the courtesy that seems natural to the roumanian peasant. among other things he told them the names of some of the beautiful cream-colored oxen that his father owned. they were very high-sounding ones. there were antony and cæsar, cassius and brutus, augustus, and, of course, trajan, the finest-looking creature of all. then, almost without warning, the weather changed, a heavy rain setting in. this caused all, except the father who was absent, to gather in the big living-room. here katinka, in a matter-of-fact way, took out some embroidery on linen, which at the age of eight she was already getting ready for her bridal trousseau. later she showed mrs. popescu a rug that she was beginning to weave as a covering for her bed. in the meantime, mrs. popescu and maritza also took out some embroidery, the peasant mother sat down at the loom, and nicolaia brought out a bit of wood-carving. this, he said, was now being taught in the village school. jonitza alone had no work. he stood for a while by the window watching the rain splash against it and the wind shake the trees as if it meant to uproot them. it was not long, however, before he wandered to where nicolaia sat and watched him work. mrs. popescu looked over at her idle son several times. a sudden inspiration made her say: "you seem to carve very nicely, nicolaia. how would you like to be jonitza's teacher and earn a little money of your own?" "will you?" asked jonitza dropping on the floor beside nicolaia. the peasant boy looked up with a pleased smile. "if you think i know enough," he answered modestly, "i'll be glad to teach you." here his mother could not keep from remarking with a proud air: "the school teacher takes an interest in nicolaia. he has advised him to attend the government school of fruit culture which is in the next village from ours. he says he would learn other things besides taking care of fruit-trees there. but that isn't possible, for he's promised as an apprentice to his uncle in bukurest. well, he'll learn a great deal there, too." "oh, mother," exclaimed nicolaia when his mother had left the loom and taken up some knitting, "while we are working won't you sing some songs as you do when we're alone?" his mother's fair face flushed as she looked shyly at mrs. popescu. "i must get things ready for the mid-day meal," she said rising. as soon as her back was turned, mrs. popescu nodded to good-natured maritza who understood and began to sing a song about a _heiduk_, the traditional hero of the roumanian peasantry, a person as fascinating as our own robin hood. the song told how handsome he was, how winning his ways, how fearless his manner towards tyrants, how kind to the poor and unfortunate. nicolaia's mother was back in her place before the maid finished. "that was very nice, dear," she remarked. "and now i can't do less than sing a song, too. it'll be about a woman, the bravest shepherdess that ever was seen." this was evidently a favorite with the children, for they joined in an odd refrain that occurred every once in a while. she had scarcely finished when the sun came out to announce that the rain was over. a moment after the door opened and her husband entered. chapter vi an excursion during the meal that followed, the farmer turned to his son with: "you will have to go to the convent for me this afternoon. i can't spare the time myself. and perhaps"--here he turned to mrs. popescu--"you and your son might like the trip. it would give you a chance to see one of our old-time institutions." mrs. popescu thanked him. "nothing could be pleasanter," she said. soon all three were seated on a rough timber cart with apparently nothing to hold it together. to the cart were harnessed two moody looking buffaloes with horns lying almost flat along their necks. the cart swayed and twisted up the rough road when suddenly nicolaia gave an excited exclamation. they were just in the middle of one of the great swollen streams that flowed everywhere over the mountains. "what has happened?" asked mrs. popescu anxiously, for nicolaia was standing up and urging the animals forward. nicolaia gave a short, funny laugh. "the buffaloes want to take a bath," he answered, and again shouted at them. fortunately, after a display of much stubbornness on their part, he did persuade them that neither the time nor the place was suitable for bathing, and they moved slowly on. after safely passing through all the ruts and bogs, the creaking cart at length stopped before what was called the "guest house" on one side of an old half-deserted convent. a servant dressed in the national costume, with a wide hat on his long curling hair, came to meet them and bid them welcome. later one of the inmates, an elderly woman in a loose brown dress, appeared bringing coffee, preserved fruit, and buffalo milk, which jonitza thought had a very peculiar flavor. after they had partaken of this refreshment and expressed their appreciation of the courtesy, and while nicolaia was busy with his errand, mrs. popescu and jonitza visited the church of the convent and looked at the crude frescoes of heaven and hell that adorned its walls. there were many ikons or pictures of saints about, for roumania is a greek catholic country like russia. the large size of the convent showed that it must have enjoyed great prosperity in former times. now a deep quiet reigned everywhere. nicolaia grew quite talkative on the way back; he told of the source of one of the streams that they passed and how difficult it was to get to it, of a hermit cave in another part of the mountains in which the bats fly at you when you enter, and finally, of some of his own immediate plans. he talked at length about a friend called demetrius, who lived on the other side of the village and whom he planned to see on the following day, when his own work was done. "would you like to visit him with me?" he asked, turning politely to jonitza. "like!" repeated jonitza almost rudely. "of course." they were passing through the village at the time and mrs. popescu noticed that on certain houses a flower was painted. she pointed this out. "that," explained nicolaia, "is to let every one know that a maiden lives there." a little further on they met a branch entwined cart. in it sat two girls gayly talking. one of them called to nicolaia in passing. the girls did not look at all alike and mrs. popescu wondered if they were sisters. "no," said nicolaia, "they are only _surata_, that is, they have adopted each other as sisters. any girls can do that if they love each other enough. i was at the church when the ceremony was performed, and saw their feet chained together in token of the bond. it made them the same as born sisters. sometimes a young man adopts another young man for his brother in the same way. the priest always asks them if they are sure of their affection, for he says the ceremony makes the new relationship very binding." chapter vii st. george's day the next day the boys walked over to the home of nicolaia's village friend, demetrius, and here a delightful surprise awaited them. two young bear cubs trotted like dogs at the feet of the village boy as he came to meet them. "where did you get these?" both boys shouted with delight. "from my uncle," returned demetrius. "he captured them after their mother had been killed. at first they had to be fed sheep milk with a spoon." as he spoke, one of the little fellows ran up a tree in the yard and the other began to play with a young puppy. soon the boys were trying to help demetrius teach them to turn somersaults and do other tricks. they gave this up only when they remembered there were other things to settle before parting. these things all related to st. george's day, or, as it is sometimes called, the "witch's sabbath." this would come the very last of the week. there were mysteries in regard to the day, for the boys spoke in whispers while jonitza was trying to make one of the bears jump through a hoop. he was so much interested in the antics of the little creatures that he paid no attention until just at leaving he heard something which made him open his eyes wide. hidden treasure was to be found! on the way home he answered nicolaia in monosyllables and looked moody, much to the latter's surprise. "what's the matter?" nicolaia finally asked. for answer jonitza glared and then burst out with: "what have i done that you won't let me go with you on st. george's eve?" nicolaia was taken aback. "you've done nothing," he made haste to say. "but this must be kept a secret and your mother wouldn't like your going." "i won't tell her," said jonitza, wincing a little as he spoke; "that is--not until--eh--i show her the treasure. then she won't care." nicolaia looked up and down the road as if trying to find a way out of a difficulty. at last he said faintly, "well, all right, if you can meet us in the yard by the cow-sheds at ten o'clock." on the day before the "witch's sabbath," jonitza watched nicolaia's father cut square blocks of turf and place them before every door and window of the farm-house and stables. "why are you doing that?" he asked. the farmer smiled at him but did not answer. katinka, however, came and whispered that it was to keep out the witches. she turned from him to help her father place thorn branches here and there in the cut turf. jonitza followed every act with a fascinated air. "what's that for?" he asked her. "the witches run when they see thorns," she explained, smiling at the thought. two of the men who were helping on the farm at the time, offered to keep watch all night near the stables lest the witches should charm the cattle and do them harm. mrs. popescu, who heard them make the offer, asked them if they really believed in witches. they looked at her with the air of grown up children. "if it wasn't witches," said one with a triumphant air, "what made old theodoresco's cow give bloody milk last year for several months beginning the very next day after the 'witch's sabbath'?" mrs. popescu, seeing that it would be useless to argue the question, left them. a half hour later, nicolaia appeared and beckoned to jonitza to follow him indoors. here he took an earthen jar from a closet. "what do you think that is?" he asked. "one of your mother's jars," jonitza answered. "no," said nicolaia without smiling. "put your hand inside and see what you find." jonitza did so and brought out some ancient coins dating back to pre-roman times. "my father is keeping these for luck. he found them when he was plowing," said nicolaia. "i am showing this to you because i thought you ought to know that it may be that kind of treasure that we'll find to-night." jonitza had this constantly in mind the rest of the day. "how wonderful it would be to find a real treasure," he kept thinking. he ate little for supper, went to bed at once when his mother suggested it, and tried very hard to keep from falling asleep. but alas, despite his efforts, sleep came and it was a very deep sleep, so that when he awoke it was bright morning. he hurried out, ashamed of himself, and found his friend looking very drowsy and grinning in a somewhat downcast way. in answer to jonitza's hurried explanations of what had happened to himself and urgent questions, nicolaia said: "it was just after ten o'clock when we started. i was relieved that you didn't appear, for i didn't know what might happen. there was no moon at the time, but the stars were out, and as we know the hills well, demetrius and i had no trouble making our way over them. we heard all sorts of strange noises, but we weren't a bit afraid. i thought we should surely find the treasure. you see, they say around here that it is easiest for the one born on a sunday or at midday; and demetrius was born just two minutes after noon on a sunday. so that ought to count. "we spoke only in whispers as we tried to look in every direction at once. each of us wanted to be the first to see the blue flame which shows where the treasure lies hidden. it must have been past midnight when demetrius seized hold of my arm. i felt his hand tremble. [illustration: "'we stood as if paralyzed'"] "'do you see that?' he whispered. "i looked where he pointed and saw in the distance what really seemed like a tiny fire. it was not particularly blue but we did not think of that. i felt for my knife, for it must be thrown through the flame so that the spirits who guard the treasure won't harm you. "'have you your knife?' i whispered back. "'yes,' returned demetrius. 'i'll throw first, and if i miss, you throw right after.' before this we had not minded anything, but now as we crept on, we shuddered whenever we stepped on a dry twig or caused a stone to roll down hill. "as we came nearer there was no sign of flame but there were bright patches on the ground as if from the remains of a fire. this could just be seen around a big bowlder where we stopped for a moment to gain courage for the final step. "as we stood there we heard a sound as of some creature rolling over. then on the other side of the big rock, a huge form arose. we distinctly heard some cuss words and a threat so terrible that we stood as if paralyzed. suddenly the figure began to move, and forgetful of everything else but our own safety, we ran down the hillside, stumbling over each other, now rolling a way, tearing our clothes on thorn bushes, and generally having a hard time until we both landed in a brook. we crawled out very much chilled and stood listening. everything about us was quiet, so i don't know whether we were followed or not. however, we did not dare return. "so, of course, we didn't get any treasure. my father says it was probably some old gypsy, but i know it was a bad spirit, for as i have said, it was after midnight, and good spirits show the flame only till twelve. when it is seen later, the treasure is guarded by bad spirits." chapter viii the castle of stephen the great how quickly the month at the farm-house passed! every day there was so much to see and do, and once in a while there was an excursion to some place of interest. the furthest one taken was when jonitza and katinka went with the maid who had accompanied jonitza's mother to the country, for a couple of days' visit to her home in a place called niamtz. the day after they reached the straggling village, the children were allowed out to play. they were attracted to a great red earth cliff, where they began digging tunnels and building little cave houses. tiring of that they wandered up toward the cliff's summit, gathering the beautiful wild flowers that they found on the way, and resting now and then under some leafy tree. when they reached the top they both shouted with delight at finding the ruins of a castle. what a delightful place in which to play! there were four corner towers, strong buttresses and battlemented walls, as well as a large moat all the way around, now overgrown with trees. jonitza, who was blessed with a good memory, recalled what he had been told about the place and so hastened to instruct katinka in his own fashion, emphasizing every word that he considered of importance. "this," said he, in his tutor's manner, "is the old castle celebrated in many of our songs, of one of our greatest kings called _stephen the great_. "one day, stephen the great was fighting the turks who were _winning_. he thought it was no use fighting any longer and made for home as quickly as he could. he thought _his mother_ would be _glad_ he wasn't killed. but instead of that she met him at the _big_ gate you see over there, and told him he ought to be ashamed to _give up_; that he was fighting to free his people, and that she wouldn't _ever_ open the gates to him and his army unless he came back as _victor_." (here jonitza gave an especial emphasis to the last word.) "so stephen said, 'all right,' and went back. he met the turks in a narrow valley and was so mad that he killed almost every one of them. he was a very brave man, and i'm going to be like him." these last words were hardly spoken when there was a clap of thunder and flash of lightning, followed by a sudden heavy downpour of rain. the children hurried to shelter which they found in one of the towers. [illustration: "it was only maritza"] it was dark there and the wind and rain threatened to break through the walls. bat-like things flew about, and strange noises, like the mournful voices of imprisoned spirits, began to be heard. jonitza lost his brave air entirely as he and his companion crouched side by side against one of the walls. suddenly there was a peculiarly long whistle, probably made by the wind passing through some crevice. katinka gave a little shriek. "it is the _stafii_," she cried, clinging to her friend. jonitza, though trembling, put his arm around her. he knew very well that she was referring to harmful elves whom all the roumanian country folk believe dwell in ruins and are always unfriendly to human beings. he tried to think of something comforting to say, but at first only managed to clear his throat. after a bit what he did whisper was: "we ought to have some milk to give them." at this katinka cried more than ever. "that's what they say, but we haven't any, we haven't any," she repeated almost in a shriek. this was followed by another shriek as a dark form shut out what little light reached them. but it was only maritza, who had come with a big umbrella to their rescue. chapter ix a spinning bee the evening before they left niamtz, a crowd of maritza's girl friends gathered at her home for a spinning bee. they came with heads uncovered, for only married women in roumania wear veils or kerchiefs. they were all dressed in holiday finery, with their hair beautifully waved. at first a merry little maiden with very red cheeks, and very black eyebrows over sparkling eyes, and black hair twisted into a double plait, came in for a good deal of teasing for some reason or other. she didn't seem to mind it and her bright answers caused much laughter and good feeling. finally she succeeded in drawing attention from herself by asking a riddle. this was followed by another and another until everybody in the room was guessing. then maritza's mother, who had been busy getting refreshments ready, came in exclaiming, "time for work, girls!" at this there was a general cry of "maritza!" "we want maritza!" "maritza must be our leader!" maritza stepped forward with some show of reluctance. "there are better spinners and better singers than i am," she said modestly. but the girls, rising quickly, formed a ring around her, singing in chorus, "it's you we want." then maritza took her spindle and began to spin. at the same time she improvised a strange song all about a mysterious _heiduk_ or chieftain who passed through their village. suddenly she threw her spindle to the black-eyed, red-cheeked maiden, holding it by a long thread as she did so. the merry maiden caught it and was obliged to continue both the spinning and singing while maritza pulled out the flax. this required much dexterity. when each girl had had her turn, both in spinning and singing, refreshments were passed around. there was _mamaliga_, baked pumpkin, potatoes, and last of all, plenty of popcorn. then, while all seated resumed their work, one of their number was begged for a story. she smilingly consented, and told the following strange and pathetic tale. the story of a lilac tree "this is a story of what once must have taken place, for if it had never occurred, i would not now have it to tell. "in a little valley among the high mountains, there lived a maiden all alone. she worked all day at her spinning and weaving and sang with joy as she worked. "so the years went on, each year adding loveliness to her face and figure. one day when out gathering firewood for her small needs she heard what sounded like a cry of pain. making her way into the thicket she found a man sorely wounded. "she spoke to him but he had become unconscious, and, not knowing what else to do, she took him in her strong arms and carried him to her hut and laid him on her own bed. then she washed out his wounds and tended him like a sister. "as soon as he could speak, he tried to express his gratitude. 'dear maiden,' he said, 'had it not been for you i should never again have seen the light of day, and even as it is, i fear i shall never walk again. for it was no ordinary mortal by whom i was wounded, but a demon of some kind who threatened that even should i survive, all power to move my legs will have left me. of what good will life then be to me? trouble yourself no longer, sweet maiden, to cure me. rather let my wounds bleed anew.' "but the beautiful girl shook her head. 'why should we believe all that ill?' she said. 'i am skilled in herb lore and shall cure you.' "for more than a week the man lay in bed while the girl tended him. and she grew to love him, he was so patient, so grateful for all she did. then, one morning, he looked brightly at her: 'lo, i am cured.' and he sat up in bed. but when he tried to get down he could not. "and the next day it was the same and the next. but the man did not speak of any disappointment. instead, he told his nurse strange stories of the life he had seen, and one day something that she found hard to bear. it was of the beautiful woman whom he loved and would have wed. "the maiden, though now sad, still tended him faithfully, but to no avail. at last, in her distress, she sought out a witch who was famed for her wisdom over the whole mountain side. "'the man is under enchantment,' said the old woman. 'he knows his cure, but will not tell it to thee.' "'tell me what it is!' exclaimed the maiden. 'i will pay any price for the cure!' "'are you sure?' asked the witch with a disagreeable laugh. "'i am sure,' answered the maiden. "'know then,' said the witch, 'that only a virgin life like yours can save him. will you give your life?' "the girl looked down in thought. at last she spoke. 'if it is indeed so, why should i not? he is strong again and the world has need of him. he loves another from whom only bewitchment separates him. the happiness of two is worth the sacrifice of one. i will give my life that they may wed.' "the next morning when the man made his daily trial to arise, he found to his amazement that he could do so. he looked around for the maiden, but she was nowhere to be seen. he waited all day and till the next morning but she did not come. then, full of regret, he went away. near the threshold of the hut he stopped to pick a branch of fragrant lilac. as he did so, the whole bush swayed with delight, and it seemed to him that a spirit within it called his name as he turned away." chapter x new plans jonitza tried to forget that the time for leaving the country was approaching. the month had meant much to him. it had made a remarkable change in his appearance. his listless air had given way to a wide awake interested look, and his pale cheeks had already something of a ruddy hue. although for her own sake, mrs. popescu longed for a return home, she felt something like guilt in taking her son back with her. every night she gave much thought to the subject and every night she knelt in prayer before the ikon that hung in her bedroom, asking that light be given her as to her duty. finally, unable to decide, she wrote a long letter to her busy husband and begged his advice. instead of a written answer, her husband himself arrived. his solution of the difficulty startled her. "why shouldn't jonitza accompany nicolaia as a sheep herder into the carpathians?" "i'm afraid," she said, "there are gypsies there--and bad shepherds--and wild animals--and the life is too hard." her husband made light of all these things. "i've talked it over," he said, "with the doctor. he declares that the only trouble with our boy is that we've molly-coddled him. he advised me to trust him to nicolaia, whose family he knows. he says that jonitza is just the age to enjoy the experience and that he will thank us all his life for it." but at first mrs. popescu did not agree. "he has grown much heartier," she said. "perhaps he would get along very well at home now." so it was not settled until after the whole thing was talked over with the peasant and his wife and mrs. popescu was persuaded that her son would be in safe hands and that, besides, the dangers were less than in the city. then katinka was sent to call in the boys who were busy as usual with some outside work. they came in with a surprised air, but when all was explained to them both set up a shout that echoed from the darkened rafters of the room. mr. popescu laughed with pleasure. "can that be really my son?" he said. chapter xi in the carpathians "i feel as free as a bird!" jonitza could not help exclaiming when they had actually started with their flocks for the carpathian mountains. like his friend, he was dressed in typical shepherd costume, consisting of a coarse white linen shirt and trousers, a long mantle of very heavy wool, and a straight round sheepskin cap. his very shoes were the same, for the boys had fashioned both pair together. they were made of pieces of goatskin that had been soaked in water until soft, gathered into pleats by means of thongs over the ankles, while other bits of thong held them securely in place. they had a big flock of sheep under their charge, for besides those belonging to nicolaia's father they were to herd those belonging to the richest man in that neighborhood. besides the sheep, two intelligent wolf dogs belonging to the neighbor went with them, as well as a donkey, to be used later to carry the packs of cheese and milk. it was high time for the boys to start, for the other shepherds had gone, and the hot roumanian summer was beginning to be felt. although nicolaia had already spent two summers on the mountains this was the first time that he was in charge of so large a flock. in consequence he shared some of jonitza's excitement. there was another reason why this summer might prove a notable one for him. it was probably his last experience of the kind, for his parents had decided to have him apprenticed that autumn to his uncle, a cabinet maker in the city of bukurest, and apprenticeships in roumania are for six years. it was a hard climb for the boys. at first as they made their way upward they occasionally passed one-room shanties, each shared by an entire family and all the domestic animals. at the last one of these they stopped to ask for a drink of water. the door was open and inside they could see the scanty furniture--a rude table, a bench, a stove, and a cot covered with the skins of wild beasts. a fierce looking man answered their call and handed them the water with so surly an air that nicolaia, who was accustomed to the great hospitality of the section where he lived, felt a mingling of amazement and indignation. there was no garden of any kind around this house, but there was a wealth of wild flowers. yellow foxgloves, gladiolas, and wild honeysuckle seemed determined to make the place a thing of beauty. just at noon, near one of the little streams that constantly crossed their path, they came upon a small band of the gypsies that are as numerous in roumania as in hungary. by a small fire over which a kettle hung, sat two women. a short distance from them lay a dark-skinned lad, with matted hair, while leaning against a giant beech on the other side, was a young man playing a weird air that made one think of a mountain storm, on a crude violin. from this wayside camp, the path wound around and around until at last it suddenly branched into two parts. nicolaia stopped at this point perplexed. "i do not remember this," he said, as he chose the broader looking of the two roads. soon, however, he saw the mistake he made in doing so. what he had taken for a path was the channel of a mountain torrent. it ended in a steep abyss, down which some of the sheep had already scrambled. the boys spent fully half an hour of the hardest kind of work before they got these sheep back. when, shortly after, they came to a grassy valley, both, panting hard, threw themselves under a tree. "this is where we'll camp for the night," said nicolaia, "now that we have all the sheep together." as he spoke, he unpacked the supper of cold meat, onions, and _mamaliga_ that they had brought with them. they also helped themselves to a drink of sheep's milk, which is richer and thicker than cow's and of quite a different flavor. the sun was already low, and when it sank from sight, darkness followed very soon. quickly wrapping themselves in their mantles, the boys lay down beside their sheep. so strenuous had the day been, that hardly had they exchanged a few sentences than both were fast asleep. the next day, after an early breakfast, they were again on their way. the scenery around was grandly wild. enormous birch and oak-trees towered on both sides of the narrow path, while lime-trees gave forth the honeyed sweetness of their blossoms. here and there a precipice would yawn on one side of the pathway. no homes of any kind were to be seen. the afternoon was far advanced when they reached another valley which was to form their headquarters for the summer. several of the shepherds who shared this section noted their arrival and sent a welcome to them on their _boutchoums_, long pipes of cherry wood which can be heard for a great distance. in the middle ages, roumanians used the _boutchoums_ to proclaim war to the troops. nicolaia at once led jonitza to a sort of cave formed of large, loose stones. "this," he said, "is the store-house of six or eight of us who herd in this vicinity." the next morning the work began in earnest. some of it was splendid training. each day nicolaia and jonitza had to creep along the crags with the flocks. sometimes the footing was very insecure, so it was no wonder that at the end of the first day jonitza was covered with bruises from his many falls. "i'm as stiff as a board, too," he confided to nicolaia, as they lay down near each other to sleep. but, by the end of the week, the stiffness was entirely gone, and jonitza could manage to keep his footing on the rocks even better than nicolaia. by that time, too, he had learned the call that would make the sheep clinging to the steep mountainsides stop eating, look up, and then come scrambling to him. the donkey had been let loose as soon as the valley was reached and got into all kinds of scrapes from his dislike to being alone. sometimes when he found that he couldn't follow the sheep, he would stand on a bowlder and bray loudly as if proclaiming to an unsympathetic world his loneliness. sometimes the report would spread that wild animals had been seen prowling near. this meant extra watchfulness on the part of the shepherds. but whether there was reason for any especial alarm or not, every night each shepherd wrapped himself in his sheepskin or woolen mantle and lay down by his flock ready to spring up at the least sign of danger. chapter xii in the carpathians (_continued_) although jonitza and nicolaia could not be constantly together, they tried to share at least one meal every day. once at such a time jonitza remarked: "how i wish i could get to the top of that mountain yonder. see what a queer shape it is! it makes me think of the picture of a peak called 'la omu,' the man." nicolaia thought that a funny name. "how did it come to get it?" he asked. "let me think," replied jonitza. "oh, yes, i remember now what was written about it in my story book. it said that it had another name, 'negoi,' but that most of the country people preferred 'la omu' because of its resemblance to a human figure. when one came near he could see that this was caused by a big rock in the center of a mass of others. according to tradition, a shepherd once lost his way there and began to curse god for his misfortune. suddenly as he was cursing, god turned him into stone as a warning to others." "although that probably isn't 'la omu,'" said nicolaia, "i should like to climb it nevertheless. perhaps vasili would keep an eye on our sheep for a few hours if we asked him." "do you think so?" asked jonitza eagerly. and he at once ran to a bluff and shouted to vasili, who was stationed nearer to them than any of the other shepherds. vasili called back good-naturedly, "go on. i'll see the sheep don't wander far." and the boys started. it took them half an hour to reach the peak. gradually, as they ascended it, the pine and fir-trees dwindled into misshapen goblin-like bushes, each of which seemed to be hiding behind one of the great bowlders that were everywhere so plentiful. at one point the boys were clambering up a steep rocky path when suddenly jonitza gave a shriek and at the same time jumped high into the air. nicolaia, who was a short distance behind, stopped so suddenly that he almost lost his balance. there, stretched out between the two boys, lay two long shiny snakes sunning themselves and apparently paying no heed to what had happened. nicolaia recovered himself first. he grasped tight hold of his shepherd staff and approached. "pshaw!" he called disdainfully, to jonitza on the other side. "they're harmless." then jumping without fear over them, he ran to where his companion, panting hard, was leaning against a bowlder. [illustration: "there ... lay two long shiny snakes"] seeing an open space near, the boys looked it over carefully and sat down. "it was the suddenness of seeing the snakes that made me jump," said jonitza, apparently feeling that his natural action needed explanation. at this nicolaia chuckled and then began to lecture jonitza on the necessity of always keeping wide awake in the mountains and never allowing himself to be surprised. jonitza did not relish this and interrupted his companion to ask questions. "how is one to tell harmless snakes from others? have you ever seen snakes just born?" at this last question, nicolaia's eyes flashed. "how i wish i could find a snake's nest!" he exclaimed. "don't you know that precious stones are made from snake saliva? if i found a snake nest, i'd not run but kill the snakes, and then i'd be so rich i'd be able to buy a big farm of my own." an answering flash came into jonitza's eyes. "let's go hunt for one now," he said, springing up. nicolaia rose more slowly. "i'm willing, but i warn you that we must be careful." so with their long shepherd staves in their hands, and keeping watch where they trod, they began a hunt among the bowlders. how it might have ended no one can tell, for they had gone scarcely twenty yards when they heard a loud cry from down below. "it must be for us," said nicolaia, and quite forgetful of snakes or anything else he led the way back as fast as he was able. when they reached the slopes on which their sheep were grazing, they met a shout of laughter. "it was your donkey," vasili explained. "he tried, as usual, to follow the flock and this time slipped down between two rocks and couldn't go forward or back. didn't you hear him bray? i didn't know what to do and so called for you. but in the meantime this other vasili here came bounding up from nowhere. and you ought to have seen him manage! he tied the donkey's feet together with a thong and lifted him out as easily as one would a baby." "you know you helped me," said a new voice. the boys looked up to see a stranger standing near. he was of medium height but thickset and very hardy in appearance. instead of a sheepskin cap a broad-brimmed hat was set well back over a mass of glossy black curls. his features were regular; his eyes were now smiling but there were angry lines written long before around them. the boys shook hands with him and thanked him. "it was nothing," he said. "aren't we brothers?" "where are you from?" "i belong to the other side," the youth answered, and then added, "the side that isn't free." all knew at once that he referred to transylvania, which, although a part of hungary, is largely inhabited by roumanians. "we intend to make it free," nicolaia answered with feeling. the transylvanian smiled and shook his head. then, without a word more, he left them. there was one other shepherd that they learned to know. he was the oldest there and came from jassy, once the capital of moldavia, a city so old that the turks claim that it dates back to the time of abraham. the roumanians, however, feel that they can do better than that. they put its foundations to the time of their beloved trajan! this shepherd, of whom later they heard strange wild tales, kept much to himself. often, however, the monotonously melancholy notes of a wooden flute on which he played would reach them. sometimes, too, especially at early dawn, they would hear him draw forth powerful notes on the _boutchoum_, such as no other shepherd could equal. chapter xiii leaving the mountains thus the summer slowly passed in healthy out-of-door life that began to grow exceedingly monotonous at the end. it was lonely, too, for after the boys became used to the work even the noon meals together became rarer, and sometimes several days passed with no other communication than a few calls to each other. at last september came. this is the month when the herdsmen take their sheep again to the valleys. the donkey was laden with cheeses of sheep's milk, and the boys followed the procession back to the village from which they had started. they found it delightful to be together again, and somehow, as they talked it over, the summer experience that had begun to be trying regained its charm. they joked, they told folk tales, and nicolaia even sang a ballad that had long been a favorite with the roumanians. it was very touching, and, of course, had to do with a shepherd, of his love for his sheep and his dogs and his longing to lie near them even in death. long before they reached the farm-house they had been seen by katinka who ran out to meet them. jonitza found some letters awaiting him. he picked out the daintiest, knowing it to be from his mother, and, begging to be excused, tore it open to read immediately. it was from sinaia, the fashionable mountain resort where "carmen sylva," the late loved dowager queen elizabeth, had had her summer home. "your father," said the letter among other things, "has to make a business trip among our wallachian farmers. he intends to take you with him and finally spend a day or two with me here. later on, we shall visit relatives for some time at the capital, bukurest." two days later mr. popescu took his son away. as mr. popescu's business was with the peasants, most of the trip was made by carriage through the very rich agricultural sections of wallachia. now they stopped at the farms of the wealthy, where the very latest in farm machinery could be seen at work; then at some of the hundreds of small farms where the peasants still harvested their grain with the sickle, and threshed it with the flail. on the way they passed orchards of damson plum, from which brandy is made, and vineyards with their rich yield. the weather favored them. only once were they caught in a storm. the sky directly above had been monotonously blue for several days when clouds seemed suddenly to form in all directions. a wind arose that soon changed into a tempest, raising enormous clouds of dust. angry lightning began to fly across the sky, while not only the thunder but the storm itself threatened. through the dust they could just make out a tower which showed that they were near a village. the obedient horses strained every sinew to reach it and did just manage to get under cover at a rude inn when enormous hail stones began to fall. it proved to be rather an interesting place where they had secured shelter, for it was not only an inn but a general store where a little of everything was kept for sale. as no especial room was assigned them, jonitza felt free to wander about the place. on a sort of screened back porch he found a woman pickling whole heads of cabbage, adding corn-meal to the brine to hasten fermentation. this, when stuffed with chopped pork, onions and rice, forms one of the national dishes. mr. popescu smiled at the supper that was placed before them an hour later. there was, of course, _mamaliga_ and its string, with a big pitcher of rich milk, then some salted cheese, raw onions, and some sun-dried beef that had been seasoned with spices and garlic when cooked. the platters, spoons and forks were of wood, the knives alone being of steel. although the owner of the inn was evidently pleased at having so much to place before his guests, he seemed to think that he could do still better. "one of my pigs," he said, "is to be killed to-morrow. if you will stay till then i can offer you something really fine." although that might not have been the reason, mr. popescu decided to stay. "come," the landlord's wife said to jonitza next morning as he sat on the stoop in front of the inn. in answer to her mysterious beckoning, jonitza followed her to the rear. here he found a group of men and boys gathered around a big fire from which a very pleasant odor rose. "what is it?" jonitza inquired. the landlady laughed and then whispered, "the pig has been killed and we are burning off its hair." after the meat had been exposed to the heat for a sufficient length of time, thin slices were cut off and handed to each person present. this resulted in loud exclamations from some of the children whose fingers were burnt and even louder smacking of lips as the delicious morsels were tasted. they left late that afternoon for the next village, overtaking on the way a party of reapers with scythes over their shoulders. a young woman crowned with wheaten ears led several others, all of whom chanted some melancholy air about the end of the harvest. everywhere they went people sang, the number of folk songs about soldier life being particularly noticeable. many of these songs were exceedingly touching; some, however, were wild in character. all were full of a spirit of rare bravery and resignation to whatever fate had in store. at last among the grand forests near the prahova river, the pretty rustic houses of rural roumania changed to swiss looking cottages, and then to fine brown and red-roofed villas, hotels and baths. sinaia had been reached. a little apart from the villas stood the royal summer palace, with its tall roofs and glittering pinnacles. during the trip they had changed vehicles and drivers many times, and now a very old man acted as their coachman. his eyes sparkled as he pointed out the château. "i lived near here," he said, "when this château was built for king carol and queen elizabeth, whom they tell me is now generally called 'carmen sylva.' my daughter was better acquainted with her than i. might i tell you the story, sir? it was not long after the château was finished that the king and queen drove up to spend a few days here. they had splendid horses and came fast. my little girl was playing by the roadside and somehow frightened the horses for they leaped to one side. they were brought under control at once, but the child had been more frightened than they and cried loudly. "her majesty must have heard her for she ordered the coachman to stop. when he had done so, she herself got out and went back to my little one, whom she comforted in a few minutes. as she kissed her and put some coins in her hands, she whispered, 'be ready to pay me a visit to-morrow morning. i'll come for you.' "we did not think anything of this, but the next day, sure enough, a carriage came to our little hut for florica. you can imagine our excitement until we had our little one again and heard from her the whole story of her visit to fairy land, for that is what the visit to the château was to her. "but i have another and better reason to bless her gracious majesty. my brother, sir, was blind--couldn't see a thing, sir--and our queen made him happy, as she did others like him, in the asylum for the blind that she founded in bukurest. "she was always doing good. "she liked our peasant ways, sir, she did, and our dress. in the château she always wore the national costume and all her maids had to do so. deeper in the woods is a forester's hut where they tell me she wrote stories and songs like our own." as the man chatted they approached a deep-roofed chalet from which the sound of merry laughter and conversation was wafted down to them. then they stopped before it and the next moment jonitza was in his mother's arms. chapter xiv the capital of roumania jonitza had not been a week in bukurest when he began to wish himself back in the country. at first there had been much to see, especially in the fine shops on the beautiful street called calea vittoriei, which extends from one end of the city to the other. on this street is also the royal palace and most of the theaters. jonitza and his parents were staying with near relatives in one of the many fine residential sections, where the big stone houses are surrounded by beautiful gardens. although this section was no great distance from the business center, they never walked to the latter but either drove or went in the big touring car belonging to the family. "people must be very happy in the 'city of pleasure,'"--that is what the word bukurest means--jonitza said to himself one day as he watched the very lively crowds on the streets. he was standing at the time in front of the splendid show windows of a jewelry store, waiting for his mother who had gone inside. at first he had stared at the rich gems through the glass but the interesting passing crowd had gradually attracted him; the very fashionable ladies, some light, some dark, talking so vivaciously, the priests with their long hair, and, most of all, the numerous soldiers in the splendor and variety of their uniforms. "jonitza," said his mother when she came out, "i am going to call on an old-time friend, and as i know such visits bore you, i shall leave you on the way to spend an hour at the national museum. how will you like that?" "very much, dear mother," jonitza answered. so the carriage took them to the big museum building where jonitza alighted. indoors he found much to interest him. he lingered before the displays of magnificent royal jeweled collars and crowns, and the specimens of roumania's mineral wealth: gold, silver, copper, rock salt, and others. there were drawings and paintings, too, to be looked at. he stood long before one of the latter. it represented a roumanian boyard or nobleman of long ago, dressed in a long, loose, rich costume, with several jeweled daggers in his embroidered belt. a crowd of dependents surrounded him, some bowing low, some kissing his hand, some trying to get him to listen to the tale that they had to tell. although jonitza's mother was late in returning to the museum, he had still much to see when she did come. a richly dressed young woman, who treated jonitza like an old friend, was with her. "it is still early," his mother remarked to his mystification. and she gave some orders to the coachman who then drove them past the "institution of the blind," the particular pride of queen elizabeth (carmen sylva), past the university and schools of various kinds, past a beautiful pure white marble statue of some _voivode_ or other, and on to the extensive garden of cismegiu; then again to the calea vittoriei, where the carriage stopped before the renowned restaurant of capsa. here jonitza's father, who evidently knew of their coming, was waiting to escort them into a room with tiled glistening floor, lofty mirrors, beautiful flowers, and exquisitely neat tables. the place was crowded to overflowing, but above the hum of voices could be heard the fascinating music of a roumanian gypsy band. hardly had they entered, than two fashionably dressed men joined their party. after considerable banter, the conversation became so serious that jonitza did not understand all of it. now and then he caught a quotation that he had heard before, as, "leave a hungarian to guard the thing that you value most," and "there is no fruit so bitter as foreigners in the land." everything tasted very good, but jonitza would have enjoyed it more had some attention been paid to him. as it was, he was glad when the party at last arose and while the rest of the company went to the theater, he was sent in the carriage home alone. at home, he found only servants and so went at once to the little room that was his own during his stay at the capital. here he threw himself down for awhile in a big armchair and gave himself up to thoughts that he had never had before, about roumania's past history, about the old-time ballads of _heiduks_ and chieftains that he had heard in the mountains, and about what he had caught in the conversation at the brilliant restaurant that night regarding roumania's future. even after he lay down on his bed he could not but wonder if roumania was yet to be a great nation, if transylvania now belonging to hungary, if bukovina now a part of austria, and perhaps bessarabia, though claimed by russia--all with a large roumanian population, would not be restored to her. finally he fell into a restless sleep in which he dreamed that he was already a man and fighting that those of his own blood might be rescued from foreign governments who despised them and tyrannized over them. chapter xv the national dance when jonitza awoke he found black coffee and delicious white twists awaiting him. he dressed quickly that he might be in time for the hearty breakfast that follows. it was a holiday, and so later he had a ride behind four horses abreast with his father, first along the sluggish dimbovitza river on which bukurest is situated, then into the hills to an old three-towered cathedral, one of the very few antiquities to be seen in bukurest. from here the city looked very attractive with its metal plated steeples and cupolas, its many squares and tree-lined avenues. then the horses carried them still further away to a neighboring hamlet with its pretty rustic vine-embowered houses, their dark roofs forming verandas on which clay benches invited one to rest. peasant women drawing water from wells by the wayside greeted them; children tending geese and pigs smiled at them, and a man building a wattled fence invited them into his little country house all blue and white. when they reached home and had had luncheon, jonitza found that the whole family but himself had been invited to some entertainment and that he was to be left with maritza and the servants. he had begun to yawn and to wonder how he would spend the day, when maritza solved the problem for him. "your mother said that i might take you to see the _hora_ danced," she announced. the _hora_ is the roumanian national dance. "oh, good!" cried jonitza, throwing a book that he was holding up to the ceiling and catching it again. soon after, maritza's brother came for his sister. he was a rather tall, dark-eyed man and dressed in spotless white linen trousers with a ruffle around the ankles and deep pointed pockets in front, embroidered in red. to be sure to be on time they started at once, maritza laughingly repeating that they "must dance on sunday to keep the creak out of their bones on monday." a half hour's walk brought them to a modest section of bukurest, where, in a square opposite a tavern, a host of peasant men and women in their gayest costumes, were already gathered. knowing how eager maritza was to dance, jonitza urged her to leave him on the lawn. "i shall be all right here under the trees," he said. when she consented, he threw himself down to watch. soon gypsy musicians seated themselves on a platform at one edge of the square and began to play. at once men and maidens clasped hands and began a swaying motion to words improvised by certain of the youths who were in charge of the dance for the day. others joined; the ring grew gigantic and then suddenly broke into two, each part with its set of leaders, while a shout of pleasurable excitement rent the air. jonitza enjoyed it all for quite a while and then began to yawn. as he turned to see if he could find anything else of interest his glance fell on a boy seated some distance away under a huge lime-tree. something about this boy made jonitza sit upright. suddenly he leaped to his feet, ran wildly forward, and put his hands over the other boy's eyes. "guess," he said in a muffled voice. in answer the other boy jumped up, over-throwing jonitza as he did so. it was nicolaia. for a moment both boys showed considerable emotion. "when did you come? are you going to stay in bukurest? where do you live?" were some of the questions that jonitza hurled at his companion. nicolaia did his best to answer. "i came yesterday," he said, "to begin my apprenticeship with my uncle. since to-day is friday and a holiday, uncle says that i am not to begin work till monday. he wants me to see a little of the city first." "hurrah!" shouted jonitza, throwing up his cap. "where are you going to-morrow?" "in the morning i'm going to go to market with auntie, so as to know how to buy. i'm to live with them and shall have to do all sorts of odd jobs at times." jonitza grew thoughtful. "i'll try to see you there," he said after a pause. "mother won't let me go alone anywhere here. i'm such a lovely child"--here he grinned--"she thinks some one might steal me. but perhaps i can go with one of the house servants or with maritza." "i'll look for you," said nicolaia solemnly. then he added: "i was so tired of watching the old dance that i was amusing myself playing _arshitza_." here he stooped to pick up a sheep bone shaped like the figure eight, and some bits of lead. "what fun we used to have playing that at your house," said jonitza with something like a sigh. "let's play it now." nicolaia nodded and they settled down for a quiet time by themselves, each trying in turn to snap as many of the lead pieces as possible into the rings. later they sharpened a few sticks that they found and played another game called _tzurka_, not unlike our game of _cat_. then they lay down side by side on the grass and talked. all this time the music, singing, and dancing went on, as if none of those taking part in it knew what it was to get tired. it was only with the setting of the sun that it came to a stop. neither of the boys would have known it, however, so absorbed were they in a deep discussion, had not maritza found them. as she shook hands with nicolaia and looked at jonitza's animated face she roguishly asked, "did you like the dance?" "why--yes--" responded jonitza quite unconscious of the twinkle in her eyes. "it was splendid, wasn't it, nicolaia? i wish it could have lasted longer!" chapter xvi at the market it was not until he was alone with his mother that night that jonitza mentioned his desire to see nicolaia at the market on the morrow. his mother put her arms around him. "it is a long time since i've gone to market. suppose i go to-morrow morning and take you with me?" "how good a mother is," jonitza thought as he went to bed, "and how well she understands a boy." [illustration: "'will you not let me take you home in the car?'"] it was delightfully cool next morning when a touring car took them to what seemed a village of booths or stalls, presided over by gypsies, peasants and jews. nicolaia and his aunt were evidently looking out for them for they came up as the carriage stopped. mrs. popescu gave nicolaia a hearty handshake and then turning to his aunt asked for permission to keep the boy with them for the rest of the day. the aunt pointed to a basket over her arm, already filled with the purchases that she had wished nicolaia to help her make, and cheerfully gave her consent. then mrs. popescu made a gracious offer. "while the boys are enjoying the market together, will you not let me take you home in the car?" nicolaia's aunt was evidently surprised and somewhat embarrassed, but when she saw that the offer was sincerely meant, climbed in with her basket, remarking that it was the first time that she had ever been in "one of those things." as the car drove off, jonitza grabbed nicolaia's hand and squeezing it, exclaimed: "isn't this fine!" "bully!" returned nicolaia. "let's go from one end of the market to the other." to show how entirely he intended agreeing with anything that his companion might suggest, jonitza, laughing, took hold of nicolaia's arm and pulled him rapidly forward. both came to a standstill where a heavily bearded man was measuring out rose leaves to be boiled into jam. near him was a stall with the bright pottery made by the peasants, while across the lane an old woman offered amulets of various kinds for sale. "buy one of these," she urged the boys as their curious glances fell on her wares. "if not for yourselves, my dears, then for your mothers or sisters; what i have will surely protect them from evil." the boys paid little attention to her words, but when she laid an arm on nicolaia he nudged jonitza with his elbow, said a few words in a low voice and both suddenly darted off, almost knocking down the boys and girls who were going in an opposite direction, carefully balancing stone jars or baskets laden with fruit or vegetables on their heads. they stopped again where food was offered for sale. there were melons and pumpkins, berries, dried fish, caviar, poultry, and bread booths, some of them with women in charge who were knitting or spinning, while waiting for customers. "look who is behind me," nicolaia called out suddenly. jonitza turned hastily and saw a knife-grinder who, having caught the remark, made a grimace at the boys. they followed him to a booth, and after watching him for a few minutes, made their way to a place near by where all kinds of birds were for sale. "i must have one," said jonitza, but when nicolaia could not help him decide whether it should be a parrot or a canary, he decided to postpone the purchase until another day. this bird stall was not far from another entrance than the one by which they had come. from it they could see numerous carts approaching, some of them drawn by buffaloes, with peasants seated on the front rails. as the boys eagerly gazed around for anything out of the ordinary, the chant of a minstrel reached them. with difficulty they forced their way into a crowd gathered around an old, half-blind man who seemed to be improvising some fascinating tale of war time deeds accompanying the half-chanted words to a twanging on a flute-like instrument called a _cobza_. every once in a while as he stopped the gathered people would shout their applause. it was not until he grew tired and signified a need for rest that the boys left. right around the corner they came upon an equal attraction. it was a sort of "punch and judy" show to see which a trifling fee was demanded. "we mustn't miss this," jonitza insisted and led the way into a structure which was crowded with children. as they came out, a bell tolled the hour. the boys stopped to count the strokes. as they ceased, nicolaia's face grew serious. it was half an hour past the time when they were to meet mrs. popescu. what would she say? but, when they found her, she did not give them a chance even to offer an excuse. "i know you're late and deserve a scolding, but how dare i scold you when i was ten minutes late myself? i do believe in punctuality, however, for sometimes time is very precious, and i'm going to try not to ever have this happen again. what about yourselves?" "oh, we'll try to keep track of time hereafter, dear mother," jonitza answered both for himself and his friend, at the same time gratefully, pressing one of her hands under the laprobe. chapter xvii good-by winter had fully set in when jonitza and his parents returned to their home city of galatz. it was intensely cold, for the winds from russia's vast steppes meet no hindrance in striking the great plains along the lower part of the danube river. the snow lay heavy on roads and houses, while sprays of icicles hung low from the trees and bushes and even from the noses of toiling cattle. the danube itself was frozen and would remain so for at least three months. even the black sea further away was ice covered for several miles' distance from shore. a warm welcome, however, awaited them indoors. the tall brick stove threw out great heat, and the secure double windows treated the powerful wind with scorn. friends added the warmth of welcome, and jonitza was surprised to find how many boys there were of his own age right in his neighborhood. he stared at them as if he had never seen them before and they stared in equal surprise at him. "the fact is," mr. popescu confided to the doctor, "we have brought back a new son." there was one very bright boy in particular to whom jonitza was attracted largely because of some physical resemblance to nicolaia, and this boy's opinion came to have quite an influence over him. for instance when the question of resuming his studies under his former tutor came up, jonitza objected. "i want to go to the same school as dimitri," he said. dimitri was the name of his new friend. "there's a teacher there that knows all sorts of things. besides, i want to study and work with other boys. how can i tell whether i'm stupid or dull unless i do?" [illustration: "something carefully covered with a sheet was carried mysteriously into jonitza's room"] "i'm afraid i am bringing up a democrat!" his father exclaimed half jokingly when he had given his consent. he had reason to think so in earnest before the winter was over for his son took part in all kinds of sports and picked his associates without regard to the class to which they belonged. some of mrs. popescu's relatives and friends did not hesitate to voice their disapproval. once they made mr. popescu think that he must interfere, but fortunately before he did he ran across his friend the doctor. "your advice has done wonders for our boy," he said to him, "but--" and in a lowered tone he repeated some of the criticisms. the doctor gave his cheery laugh. "let them criticize," he said. "be thankful that your son acts as a normal boy should act; that he chooses his associates for what they are worth, not for what they can spend. take my word for it," he added impressively, "class distinctions that have counted so much with some of us, are going to be abolished in our country as well as in many another, and that soon, even if it takes the great war to abolish them." jonitza had made up his mind that nicolaia must spend the christmas holidays with them, and mrs. popescu was anxious to gratify this wish. but at first it seemed that this would be impossible. it was fortunate perhaps that mr. popescu had a business trip to make to bukurest and so could use a little of his personal influence. that this had some weight was shown when he returned on december 22 accompanied by nicolaia. jonitza had given up all hopes of having his friend with him and so was doubly pleased. he resolved to do everything he could to make the time enjoyable for him, and begged dimitri's interest and assistance. "will your parents let you join me in carol singing?" was dimitri's first question. "mother will, if nicolaia would like it," replied jonitza with confidence. "then," said dimitri, "i'll come to your house this afternoon and we'll plan things." when dimitri came he was told that mrs. popescu had given her consent and the boys retired to a shed to work secretly at the preparations. they were evidently quite elaborate, for jonitza visited the house for supplies several times. by supper time something carefully covered with a sheet was carried mysteriously into jonitza's room where a hiding place was found for it. on christmas eve dimitri was invited over for supper. maritza herself prepared a special dish called _turte_ for the occasion. this consisted of thin dry wafers of dough covered with honey. after the meal the boys hurried to jonitza's room. when they came out it was hard to recognize them. each had on a mask, a long gown, and a high hat of colored paper. nicolaia held a wooden star adorned with little bells. the center of this star was a representation of the manger, and was illuminated from behind. they took their stand in the hallway where they sang christmas carols, some of which ended by wishing much prosperity to the household, "for many years, for many years." then dimitri led the way to other homes, where he knew they would be welcomed. before the christmas festivities came to an end, jonitza and dimitri planned something far more elaborate. it was to act out a peculiar traditional drama for some of the poorest children of the town. mrs. popescu lent her assistance and it turned out a great success. the name of the drama was _irozi_, showing that it had something to do with the time of herod. there were seven boys besides jonitza, nicolaia and dimitri who took part in it. the principal characters were a grumbling herod, some roman officers, and three magi in oriental costumes, a child, a clown, and an old man. the plot is quite simple. a roman officer brings news to herod (who was impersonated by jonitza), that three men have been caught going to bethlehem to adore the new-born christ. entering, they hold a long dialogue with herod, who at last orders them to be cast into prison. they, however, implore god to punish their persecutor. as they do so, strange noises are heard. these frighten herod who begs forgiveness and lets the men go free. later a child comes in and prophesies the future of the messiah. as the child proceeds, herod's rage increases until he strikes the child dead. at this all present unite in reproaches until herod sinks to his knees and implores forgiveness. the success of the play was largely due to two characters whose antics pleased the little ones. one of these was the clown (nicolaia) and the other was an old man who was in everybody's way (dimitri). this latter had a mask with a long beard on his face, a hunched back, and wore heavy boots and a sheepskin mantle with the wool on the outside. when the much applauded play came to an end, refreshments were passed around and afterwards the children sent home with their hands filled with gifts of various kinds. in such gayeties the holidays soon passed. on the very last day of the year nicolaia left for home, and as jonitza and dimitri saw him to the train they anticipated the new year by throwing grains of corn at him and repeating the old time roumanian greeting: "may you live and flourish like the trees of the garden and be blessed like them with all things plentiful." the end selections from the page company's books for young people the blue bonnet series _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =a texas blue bonnet= by caroline e. jacobs. "the book's heroine, blue bonnet, has the very finest kind of wholesome, honest, lively girlishness."--_chicago inter-ocean._ =blue bonnet's ranch party= by caroline e. jacobs and edyth ellerbeck read. "a healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."--_boston transcript._ =blue bonnet in boston=; or, boarding-school days at miss north's. by caroline e. jacobs and lela horn richards. "it is bound to become popular because of its wholesomeness and its many human touches."--_boston globe._ =blue bonnet keeps house=; or, the new home in the east. by caroline e. jacobs and lela horn richards. "it cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their teens."--_new york sun._ =blue bonnet--débutante= by lela horn richards. an interesting picture of the unfolding of life for blue bonnet. the young pioneer series by harrison adams _each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.25 =the pioneer boys of the ohio=; or, clearing the wilderness. "such books as this are an admirable means of stimulating among the young americans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneer ancestors and the early days of the republic."--_boston globe._ =the pioneer boys on the great lakes=; or, on the trail of the iroquois. "the recital of the daring deeds of the frontier is not only interesting but instructive as well and shows the sterling type of character which these days of self-reliance and trial produced."--_american tourist, chicago._ =the pioneer boys of the mississippi=; or, the homestead in the wilderness. "the story is told with spirit, and is full of adventure."--_new york sun._ =the pioneer boys of the missouri=; or, in the country of the sioux. "vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic situations, true to historic perspective, this story is a capital one for boys."--_watchman examiner, new york city._ =the pioneer boys of the yellowstone=; or, lost in the land of wonders. "there is plenty of lively adventure and action and the story is well told."--_duluth herald, duluth, minn._ =the pioneer boys of the columbia=; or, in the wilderness of the great northwest. "the story is full of spirited action and contains much valuable historical information."--_boston herald._ the hadley hall series by louise m. breitenbach _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =alma at hadley hall= "the author is to be congratulated on having written such an appealing book for girls."--_detroit free press._ =alma's sophomore year= "it cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things in girls' books."--_boston herald._ =alma's junior year= "the diverse characters in the boarding-school are strongly drawn, the incidents are well developed and the action is never dull."--_the boston herald._ =alma's senior year= "incident abounds in all of miss breitenbach's stories and a healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."--_boston transcript._ the girls of friendly terrace series by harriet lummis smith _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =the girls of friendly terrace= "a book sure to please girl readers, for the author seems to understand perfectly the girl character."--_boston globe._ =peggy raymond's vacation= "it is a wholesome, hearty story."--_utica observer._ =peggy raymond's school days= the book is delightfully written, and contains lots of exciting incidents. famous leaders series by charles h. l. johnston _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =famous cavalry leaders= "more of such books should be written, books that acquaint young readers with historical personages in a pleasant, informal way."--_new york sun._ "it is a book that will stir the heart of every boy and will prove interesting as well to the adults."--_lawrence daily world._ =famous indian chiefs= "mr. johnston has done faithful work in this volume, and his relation of battles, sieges and struggles of these famous indians with the whites for the possession of america is a worthy addition to united states history."--_new york marine journal._ =famous scouts= "it is the kind of a book that will have a great fascination for boys and young men, and while it entertains them it will also present valuable information in regard to those who have left their impress upon the history of the country."--_the new london day._ =famous privateersmen and adventurers of the sea= "the tales are more than merely interesting; they are entrancing, stirring the blood with thrilling force and bringing new zest to the never-ending interest in the dramas of the sea."--_the pittsburgh post._ =famous frontiersmen and heroes of the border= this book is devoted to a description of the adventurous lives and stirring experiences of many pioneer heroes who were prominently identified with the opening of the great west. "the accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly readable, making a book of wide appeal to all who love the history of actual adventure."--_cleveland leader._ hildegarde-margaret series by laura e. richards eleven volumes the hildegarde-margaret series, beginning with "queen hildegarde" and ending with "the merryweathers," make one of the best and most popular series of books for girls ever written. _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.25 _the eleven volumes boxed as a set_ $13.75 list of titles =queen hildegarde= =hildegarde's holiday= =hildegarde's home= =hildegarde's neighbors= =hildegarde's harvest= =three margarets= =margaret montfort= =peggy= =rita= =fernley house= =the merryweathers= the captain january series by laura e. richards _each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ 50 cents =captain january= a charming idyl of new england coast life, whose success has been very remarkable. same. _illustrated holiday edition_ $1.25 same, french text. _illustrated holiday edition_ $1.25 =melody=: the story of a child. same. _illustrated holiday edition_ $1.25 =marie= a companion to "melody" and "captain january." =rosin the beau= a sequel to "melody" and "marie." =snow-white=; or, the house in the wood. =jim of hellas=; or, in durance vile, and a companion story, bethesda pool. =narcissa= and a companion story, in verona, being two delightful short stories of new england life. "=some say=" and a companion story, neighbors in cyrus. =nautilus= "'nautilus' is by far the best product of the author's powers, and is certain to achieve the wide success it so richly merits." =isla heron= this interesting story is written in the author's usual charming manner. =the little master= "a well told, interesting tale of a high character."--_california gateway gazette._ delightful books for little folks by laura e. richards =three minute stories= cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight plates in full color and many text illustrations by josephine bruce. _net_ $1.25; carriage paid $1.40 "little ones will understand and delight in the stories and poems."--_indianapolis news._ =five minute stories= cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.25 a charming collection of short stories and clever poems for children. =more five minute stories= cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.25 a noteworthy collection of short stories and poems for children, which will prove as popular with mothers as with boys and girls. =five mice in a mouse trap= cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.25 the story of their lives and other wonderful things related by the man in the moon, done in the vernacular from the lunacular form by laura e. richards. =when i was your age= cloth, 8vo, illustrated $1.25 the title most happily introduces the reader to the charming home life of doctor howe and mrs. julia ward howe, during the childhood of the author. =a happy little time= cloth, 8vo, illustrated $1.25 little betty and the happy time she had will appeal strongly to mothers as well as to the little ones who will have this story read to them, and appeal all the more on account of its being such a "real" story. the boys' story of the railroad series by burton e. stevenson _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =the young section-hand=; or, the adventures of allan west. "a thrilling story, well told, clean and bright. the whole range of section railroading is covered in the story, and it contains information as well as interest."--_chicago post._ =the young train dispatcher= "a vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of railroad life, full of incident and adventure, in which the author has woven admirable advice about honesty, manliness, self-culture, good reading, and the secrets of success."--_congregationalist._ =the young train master= "it is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn."--_passaic news._ =the young apprentice=; or, allan west's chum. "the story is intensely interesting, and one gains an intimate knowledge of the methods and works in the great car shops not easily gained elsewhere."--_baltimore sun._ "it appeals to every boy of enterprising spirit, and at the same time teaches him some valuable lessons in honor, pluck, and perseverance."--_cleveland plain dealer._ "the lessons that the books teach in development of uprightness, honesty and true manly character are sure to appeal to the reader."--_the american boy._ the little colonel books (trade mark) by annie fellows johnston _each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =the little colonel stories= (trade mark) being three "little colonel" stories in the cosy corner series, "the little colonel," "two little knights of kentucky," and "the giant scissors," in a single volume. =the little colonel's house party= (trade mark) =the little colonel's holidays= (trade mark) =the little colonel's hero= (trade mark) =the little colonel at boarding-school= (trade mark) =the little colonel in arizona= (trade mark) =the little colonel's christmas vacation= (trade mark) =the little colonel, maid of honor= (trade mark) =the little colonel's knight comes riding= (trade mark) =mary ware: the little colonel's chum= (trade mark) =mary ware in texas= =mary ware's promised land= _these twelve volumes, boxed as a set_, $18.00. special holiday editions _each small quarto, cloth decorative, per volume_ $1.25 new plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page drawings in color, and many marginal sketches. =the little colonel= (trade mark) =two little knights of kentucky= =the giant scissors= =big brother= the johnston jewel series _each small 16mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece and decorative text borders, per volume._ _net_ $0.50 =in the desert of waiting=: the legend of camelback mountain. =the three weavers=: a fairy tale for fathers and mothers as well as for their daughters. =keeping tryst=: a tale of king arthur's time. =the legend of the bleeding heart= =the rescue of princess winsome=: a fairy play for old and young. =the jester's sword= =the little colonel's good times book= uniform in size with the little colonel series $1.50 bound in white kid (morocco) and gold. _net_ 3.00 cover design and decorations by peter verberg. "a mighty attractive volume in which the owner may record the good times she has on decorated pages, and under the directions as it were of annie fellows johnston."--_buffalo express._ =the little colonel doll book--first series= quarto, boards, printed in colors $1.50 a series of "little colonel" dolls. each has several changes of costume, so they can be appropriately clad for the rehearsal of any scene or incident in the series. =the little colonel doll book--second series= quarto, boards, printed in colors $1.50 an artistic series of paper dolls, including not only lovable mary ware, the little colonel's chum, but many another of the much loved characters which appear in the last three volumes of the famous "little colonel series." =asa holmes= by annie fellows johnston. with a frontispiece by ernest fosbery. 16mo, cloth decorative, gilt top $1.00 "'asa holmes' is the most delightful, most sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long while."--_boston times._ =travelers five: along life's highway= by annie fellows johnston. with an introduction by bliss carman, and a frontispiece by e. h. garrett. 12mo, cloth decorative $1.25 "mrs. johnston broadens her reputation with this book so rich in the significance of common things."--_boston advertiser._ =joel: a boy of galilee= by annie fellows johnston. 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 "the book is a very clever handling of the greatest event in the history of the world."--_rochester, n. y., herald._ the boys' story of the army series by florence kimball russel =born to the blue= 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25 "the story deserves warm commendation and genuine popularity."--_army and navy register._ =in west point gray= 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 "one of the best books that deals with west point."--_new york sun._ =from chevrons to shoulder-straps= 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 "the life of a cadet at west point is portrayed very realistically."--_the hartford post, hartford, conn._ doctor's little girl series by marion ames taggart _each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume_, $1.50 =the doctor's little girl= "a charming story of the ups and downs of the life of a dear little maid."--_the churchman._ =sweet nancy=: the further adventures of the doctor's little girl. "just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence cannot but be elevating."--_new york sun._ =nancy, the doctor's little partner= "the story is sweet and fascinating, such as many girls of wholesome tastes will enjoy."--_springfield union._ =nancy porter's opportunity= "nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young woman, with plenty of pluck."--_boston globe._ =nancy and the coggs twins= "the story is refreshing."--_new york sun._ works of evaleen stein =the christmas porringer= 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by adelaide everhart $1.25 this story happened many hundreds of years ago in the quaint flemish city of bruges and concerns a little girl named karen, who worked at lace-making with her aged grandmother. =gabriel and the hour book= small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in colors by adelaide everhart $1.25 "no works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the elements that stir the hearts of children and grown-ups as well as do the stories so admirably told by this author."--_louisville daily courier._ =a little shepherd of provence= 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by diantha h. marlowe $1.25 "the story should be one of the influences in the life of every child to whom good stories can be made to appeal."--_public ledger._ =the little count of normandy= 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by john goss $1.25 "this touching and pleasing story is told with a wealth of interest coupled with enlivening descriptions of the country where its scenes are laid and of the people thereof."--_wilmington every evening._ =eleanor of the houseboat= by louise m. breitenbach. 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 an unusually interesting story of how eleanor tracy spent a wonderful summer on a houseboat. historical books =the boys of '61=; or, four years of fighting. by charles carleton coffin. standard edition. an entirely new edition, cloth decorative, 8vo, with nearly two hundred illustrations $2.00 popular edition. cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight illustrations $1.00 a record of personal observation with the army and navy, from the battle of bull run to the fall of richmond. =the boys of 1812=; and other naval heroes. by james russell soley. cloth decorative, 8vo, illustrated $2.00 "the book is full of stirring incidents and adventures."--_boston herald._ =the sailor boys of '61= by james russell soley. cloth decorative, 8vo, illustrated $2.00 "it is written with an enthusiasm that never allows the interest to slacken."--_the call, newark, n. j._ =boys of fort schuyler= by james otis. cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated $1.25 "it is unquestionably one of the best historical indian stories ever written."--_boston herald._ famous war stories by charles carleton coffin _each cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per vol._ $1.25 =winning his way= a story of a young soldier in the civil war. =my days and nights on the battlefield= a story of the battle of bull run and other battles in kentucky, tennessee, and on the mississippi. =following the flag= a story of the army of the potomac in the civil war. stories of newsboy life by james otis _each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.25 =jenny wren's boarding house= "distinctively a story of newsboy life in new york, and mr. otis very quickly finds his way to the sensitive and loving heart that beats under the ragged and torn coat of the little boy who is untiring in his efforts to sell his papers and thereby earn a mere pittance to sustain life."--_boston herald._ =teddy and carrots=; or, two merchants of newspaper row. his newsboys are real and wide-awake, and his story abounds with many exciting scenes and graphic incidents. =the boys' revolt= a story of the street arabs of new york. "this is the story of a strike of bootblack boys in the city of new york and it contains stirring scenes and incidents."--_the christian register._ =jerry's family= the story of a street waif of new york. it is written in the author's best vein, the scene being one in which he has won many brilliant successes, _i.e._, picturing life among the street arabs of new york. =the princess and joe potter= "the secret of the author's success lies in his wonderful sympathy with the aspirations of child-life, his truthful delineation of life among the children who act as his object lessons."--_new york sun._ =larry hudson's ambition= "the book is written with brisk and deft cleverness."--_new york sun._ "an attractive story, with a healthy outdoor atmosphere."--_new york commercial advertiser._ the sandman series by william j. hopkins _each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50 =the sandman=: his farm stories. "mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take the little ones to bed and rack their brains for stories will find this book a treasure."--_cleveland leader._ =the sandman=: more farm stories. "children will call for these stories over and over again."--_chicago evening post._ =the sandman=: his ship stories. "little ones will understand and delight in the stories and their parents will read between the lines and recognize the poetic and artistic work of the author."--_indianapolis news._ =the sandman=: his sea stories. "once upon a time there was a man who knew little children and the kind of stories they liked, so he wrote four books of sandman's stories, all about the farm or the sea, and the brig _industry_, and this book is one of them."--_canadian congregationalist._ =the sandman=: his animal stories. by harry w. frees. "the sandman is a wonderful fellow. first, he told farm stories, then ship stories, then sea stories. and now he tells about the kittens and puppies and the fun they had in kittycat town, which is somewhere in animal land."--_pittsburgh chronicle telegraph._ =the sandman=: his songs and rhymes. by jenny wallis. a choice collection of the best songs and rhymes that the best writers of many lands and of past decades have produced, attractively arranged by jenny wallis. the little cousin series (trade mark) each volume illustrated with six or more full page plates in tint. cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover, per volume, 60 cents list of titles by mary hazelton wade, mary f. nixon-roulet, blanche mcmanus, clara v. winlow, florence e. mendel and others =our little african cousin= =our little alaskan cousin= =our little arabian cousin= =our little argentine cousin= =our little armenian cousin= =our little australian cousin= =our little austrian cousin= =our little belgian cousin= =our little boer cousin= =our little bohemian cousin= =our little brazilian cousin= =our little bulgarian cousin= =our little canadian cousin= =our little chinese cousin= =our little cossack cousin= =our little cuban cousin= =our little danish cousin= =our little dutch cousin= =our little egyptian cousin= =our little english cousin= =our little eskimo cousin= =our little french cousin= =our little german cousin= =our little grecian cousin= =our little hawaiian cousin= =our little hindu cousin= =our little hungarian cousin= =our little indian cousin= =our little irish cousin= =our little italian cousin= =our little japanese cousin= =our little jewish cousin= =our little korean cousin= =our little malayan (brown) cousin= =our little mexican cousin= =our little norwegian cousin= =our little panama cousin= =our little persian cousin= =our little philippine cousin= =our little polish cousin= =our little porto rican cousin= =our little portuguese cousin= =our little russian cousin= =our little scotch cousin= =our little servian cousin= =our little siamese cousin= =our little spanish cousin= =our little swedish cousin= =our little swiss cousin= =our little turkish cousin= the little cousins of long ago series the volumes in this series describe the boys and girls of ancient times. _each small 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated_ 60c. =our little athenian cousin of long ago= by julia darrow cowles. =our little carthaginian cousin of long ago= by clara v. winlow. =our little macedonian cousin of long ago= by julia darrow cowles. =our little norman cousin of long ago= by evaleen stein. =our little roman cousin of long ago= by julia darrow cowles. =our little saxon cousin of long ago= by julia darrow cowles. =our little spartan cousin of long ago= by julia darrow cowles. =our little viking cousin of long ago= by charles h. l. johnston. _in preparation_ =our little pompeiian cousin of long ago= * * * * * transcriber's notes: obvious punctuation errors repaired. page 24, "acquaintance'" changed to "acquaintance's" (acquaintance's feelings) [illustration: a kafedji] peeps at many lands turkey by julius r. van millingen with twelve full page illustrations in colour by warwick goble london adam and charles black 1911 [illustration: the bridge from galata to stamboul.] contents i. geography and history 5 ii. albanians, pomaks, tartars, and bulgarians 11 iii. circassians, lazes, and kurds 22 iv. armenians 27 v. greeks and vlachs 36 vi. jews--superstitions 48 vii. gipsies--superstitions 54 viii. syrians, druses, maronites, and bedouins 57 ix. turks 61 x. the faith of islam 72 xi. games 78 xii. dogs 85 xiii. the galata bridge and the bazaars 90 list of illustrations the bridge from galata to stamboul _frontispiece_ roumeli hissar (bosphorus) 9 a simitdji 16 a stamboul beggar 25 in the grand bazaar 32 a shekerdji's shop 41 a cemetery by the bosphorus 48 a fortune-teller 57 a turkish lady in outdoor dress 64 interior of the mosque of sultan ahmed i. 73 a howling dervish 80 a kafedji _on the cover_ sketch-map of turkey _page iv_ [illustration: sketch-map of turkey.] turkey chapter i geography and history the empire of turkey, through which i propose to conduct you, stretches over portions of europe and asia--the slender thread of the bosphorus and the dardanelles being the division between the two continents. a rapid current rushes through these channels, but in some places they are so narrow that you can shout across from europe to asia, and it is no uncommon thing to hear the dogs barking from the other side. turkey in europe spreads northwards from these points up to bulgaria, and consists of a long strip of country extending from the black sea to the adriatic. turkey in asia is more extensive, and stretches from the black sea to the persian gulf. persia lies to its east, and the red sea and blue mediterranean to its west. turkey holds sway over some of earth's fairest lands, the homes of its most ancient civilizations and lands familiar to us through holy writ and profane history, and the sources of jewish, christian, moslem, and other beliefs. the rulers of turkey are the turks, originally a nomadic tribe from central asia. compelled to abandon their homes on account of the desiccation or drying up of large tracts of their country, which were converted into a desert, they swarmed into armenia and persia in quest of new pasture-lands for their flocks and cattle. like the in-coming tide, they swept everything before them, and finally overwhelmed, not only asia minor, but also egypt and northern africa. converted at an early stage of their history to the mahomedan faith, they propagated it wherever they went, and, under the leadership of the sultans of the seljuk dynasty, they established themselves in konia, and advanced their rule to the gates of the byzantine empire. but it was reserved for a kindred tribe under ertogrul to be the successors of the seljuks and establish the ottoman dynasty which still holds sway over turkey. the events leading up to it were as follows: ertogrul, with a band of 400 followers, was wandering about asia minor, and accidentally came across a conflicting mongolian and seljuk army in the neighbourhood of angora. he dashed into the fray in support of the latter, and changed impending defeat into a brilliant victory. in reward for this timely assistance the seljuk sultan awarded to ertogrul the district of anatolia, which bounded the greek or byzantine empire, the capital of which empire was then constantinople. during the summer the new-comers drove their flocks to the mountains, and during the winter they withdrew them to the plains, but, growing bolder and more powerful, ertogrul waged war against the greeks. success followed upon success, until at last, in 1326, under the leadership of othman, the son of ertogrul, nicea, noted for its council which drew up the nicean creed, fell to the sword of the moslem. brusa also was taken, and there othman enthroned himself as sultan of the dynasty thenceforth known as the ottoman. before proceeding further it might be interesting to relate an incident which pictures the primitive character and frugality of the founders of this dynasty. when the mighty othman died, the only possessions he left behind were a salt-bowl, the symbol of hospitality, a spoon, his sword and standards, his cloak and white turban, a pair of horses, a yoke of oxen, and his flock of sheep. his sword is still preserved in constantinople, and each successive sultan is invested with it on his coronation. the descendants of his flock of sheep are still the heritage of the reigning sultan, and still browse on the ranges of bithynian olympus, and supply butter and cheeses for the royal household. the victories of the ottoman turks were followed by the incorporation of the seljuks, and drew into their ranks crowds of recruits thirsting for blood and plunder. the asiatic shores of the bosphorus were ravaged with sword and fire, and shortly afterward (in 1453) constantinople was invested and stormed, and the last of the byzantine emperors slain. driving everything before them, the victorious turks marched northwards into europe, devastating, burning, plundering, slaying, and making captives of women and children, until at last they reached the walls of vienna, and at one moment it looked as if all europe would fall to their sway. but this was the limit of their northern conquests, and, like the tide which recedes after it has reached its fulness, so this assault on vienna and its repulse marks the high tide and first ebb of turkey's greatness. one by one they lost their possessions in europe, such as hungary, roumania, greece, servia, and bulgaria, and now only a comparatively small strip of country remains to them in europe. in asia also large tracts of country have been wrenched from turkey by russia; and in africa, egypt and tunis are turkish only in name. [illustration: roumeli hissar.] the splendid conquests of the turks were due to the hardihood of a race brought up in frugality and nomadic pursuits. their strength and courage were amazing, and their religious zeal made them reckless of their lives. their early sultans, too, were men of extraordinary energy and sagacity, and were the first among the turks to organize regular soldiers. a famous corps was that of the janissaries, who were selected from the strongest and most beautiful christian youth forced away from their parents or captured in battle. confined all their lives in barracks, and daily drilled in the arts of war, they grew to be as invincible as cromwell's ironsides. but as discipline relaxed they became insubordinate, dethroning sultans and nominating others, until one day, in 1826, sultan mahmoud iv. had them secretly surrounded in their barracks and annihilated. a venerable planetree may yet be seen in the old palace grounds where the survivors were hanged. its hollow trunk ultimately served as the shop of a shoemaker. the decline of the ottoman empire was due to the corruption of the turks that followed acquisition of wealth. they lost their hardihood, and their sultans became profligate and luxurious. they filled their harems with wives and numberless slaves, and addicted themselves to pleasure instead of duty. they became tyrants, and their jealousies and fears of being supplanted made them so cruel that it became customary for a sultan ascending the throne to kill all his brothers or near male relatives. this was usually done by strangling them with a bow-string, or sewing them in bags and drowning them in the bosphorus, as one would an undesirable litter of puppies. recent sultans, it is true, have not dared to commit such deeds openly in the face of growing public opinion, but, with few exceptions, they have been equally selfish and corrupt. indeed, in the reign of the recent ex-sultan abdul hamid, rightly styled "the great assassin" by mr. gladstone, corruption and villainy reached unheard-of enormity. he planned and carried out wholesale massacres against his armenian subjects, and spirited away thousands of innocent mussulmans and christians at the instigation of the army of spies whom he employed, and who enriched themselves with the bribes he offered. at last matters reached such a pitch that life in turkey became unbearable, and in sheer desperation he was dethroned in 1908 by his army, led by patriotic officers who styled themselves young turks. in his stead they appointed his brother, murad v., to be sultan, and proclaimed a constitution; that is, a form of government like our own, with a parliament consisting of representatives of the people. turkey is now doing its best to reform itself, and we wish it all success, but naturally, after so many years of misrule and corruption, it will take time before the turks can set their house in proper order. for now more than twenty years turkey has been connected with western europe by rail, trains starting from vienna and crossing the danube at belgrade. shortly after, the main line branches off and one portion proceeds through bulgaria to constantinople, while the other terminates at salonica. the journey from london to constantinople occupies three and a half days, but may be accelerated. there is no railway bridge over the bosphorus, but a railway line, of recent construction, runs from its asiatic entrance into asia minor as far as konia, the iconium of scripture. this line is now being extended to reach bagdad in mesopotamia, and will be prolonged thence to the persian gulf, and doubtless, ultimately, to india, and will perhaps enable us to visit our friends there within a week's journey from london. another railway crosses the lebanon mountains from beyrout, and proceeds to damascus, and thence extends, keeping to the east of the jordan, to mecca, in arabia, the holy city of the moslems. this line is called the sacred or pilgrim railway, because it conveys large numbers of pilgrims to their shrine. it was built nearly entirely out of the contributions of the faithful, both in money and in free labour. chapter ii albanians, pomaks, tartars, and bulgarians having briefly narrated the history of the rise and decline of the ottoman empire, it may be interesting to have a peep at the various races and nationalities which at present constitute it. beginning with turkey in europe, we have the albanians, who occupy the mountainous country north of greece, and also albania and epirus on the eastern shore of the adriatic. they are a brave, haughty, liberty-loving, but turbulent people, whom some maintain to be the descendants of the ancient pelasgi, who originally occupied greece. they boast of having given alexander the great to the world. the albanians were never properly conquered by the turks, and, excepting those inhabiting the lowlands, they do very much what they please, and even at this moment they are defying the turkish troops sent to disarm them, and bring them under subjection. some are mahomedans, others are roman catholics, and others belong to the greek church. they have a language of their own, but until quite recently they had no alphabet for it, and it was only within the last forty years that a scotsman, the agent of the british and foreign bible society, endowed them with one, and printed the scriptures in their tongue. it is this alphabet that the turks are now trying to suppress by substituting the arabic, and the albanians are fighting to maintain. the national dress of the albanians is a white kilted petticoat coming down to their knees, with a scarlet or purple embroidered vest, and a corresponding sleeveless jacket worn over a white shirt with wide sleeves. the waist is girded with a broad silken band folded many times round the body. embroidered leggings, corresponding in colour with the jacket, protect the legs, and a red cap, called a _fez_, with a silken blue tassel, covers the head. so attached are they to their national costume that an attempt made by sultan mahmoud to forbid it led to an insurrection in the same way that the edict in 1747 to do away with the kilts and tartans in the scottish highlands created the troubles which followed the rebellion. naturally, the peasants cannot afford costly material, and their dress consists of a closely-woven, home-spun tweed called _shayiak_, which is very warm and enduring. they wear a skull-cap of the same material, _shayiak_ knickers and leggings, and sandals instead of shoes. over this girdle they wear a broad cartridge-belt, which bristles with old-fashioned pistols and formidable daggers. the albanians are a nation of clans, implacable in their hatred and constant in their friendships. their covenant of friendship is cemented by tasting a drop of each other's blood, and from that moment they consider themselves blood kinsmen, and sworn to befriend, defend, or avenge each other. like the israelites of old, the blood avenger pursues the murderer of his friend or clansman until he finds him, and if he should fail to do so during his lifetime, his children are bound to act on his behalf. you can thus understand that in accordance with this law of "vendetta," as they call it, whole families become sometimes exterminated. another peculiar method of establishing friendships is by securing the assent of an influential person to stand as godfather to children at baptism. it involves no spiritual obligations, as may be seen from the fact that these godfathers are frequently mussulmans, but is recognized as a social rite whereby the two families become relations. albania being a poor country, a large number of its moslem population join the turkish army as soldiers or officers, this vocation being congenial with their tastes. others go to constantinople or other large towns, and engage in an occupation very different from that of warriors--namely, that of manufacturing and selling cakes, called _simits_, and an albanian speciality of confection called _halva_. it resembles nougat, and is prepared with walnuts or sesame seeds. these commodities are temptingly arranged on large circular trays, which they poise very adroitly on their heads by means of a small cushion resembling a quoit. you will see, under the heading of "simitji," a picture of this kind of tray, and the tripod upon which it is rested. the seller in the picture is not, however, an albanian, but a turk from anatolia. these _halvagis_, as they are called, are great favourites of boys and girls, and of grown-up persons too, and are to be met with at every gathering of people. albanians also go out as vegetable-gardeners and fruit-sellers, and deal in the remarkably beautiful apple which grows so splendidly in their native country. the turks call the albanians _arnaouts_, and many a village occupied by them has in consequence been named arnaoutkioy, the village of the albanian. another occupation in which they engage is that of shepherds, and among some of this craft i may mention those of the sultan's flock of sheep on mount olympus, to which i have already alluded. they keep huge fierce dogs, which are a terror not only to wolves and bears, but also to human beings whom they may encounter. so daring and powerful are shepherd-dogs of this description that they have been known to tear riders down from the saddle. the writer might once have undergone this fate were it not for the powerful dog-whip which he carried on the occasion of an attack, and to the fact that his horse finally bolted with him until he was some miles from the field of danger. to shoot one of these dogs is at the peril of your life, for the albanian law of vendetta seems to extend to avenging their dogs. there is a strong suspicion that an englishman, who made the ascent of olympus some twenty years ago, was murdered by these shepherds for shooting one of these creatures in self-defence. on another occasion the captain of one of our ironclads, while shooting in that neighbourhood, had occasion to kill a dog which attacked him, whereupon he was himself felled to the ground by the axe of the shepherd. turkish shepherd-dogs, though savage and powerful, have none of the finer instincts of our collies; they will not bring round the sheep in accordance with the shepherd's directions; they are only fighters, and often turn and rend their masters. it is interesting to watch, as i have done, the yearly migrations of the albanian shepherds to and from olympus. my home lay at the foot of the mountain, and one summer's night, when the moon was full, i was waked by the sound of sonorous voices, and the barking of dogs, and bleating of rams. gradually the sounds became louder, and i could hear the tinkling of bells and finally the tramp of thousands of little feet pattering past my door. to the bleating of the rams was added the shriller cry of the ewes and the feebler notes of the lambs, and, rushing to the window, i could see the whole procession--sheep and shepherd--winding its way upwards. it was a weird sight, those shepherds in their heavy capotes of sheepskin, and their shadows reflected on the mountain, and gave one the impression of so many spectres gliding in the moonlight. the procession passed along, the bleating, the tinkling, the barking, the shouting became fainter, and finally the mountain returned to its silence primeval, and when i awoke in the morning i could not help wondering if it had not all been a dream. [illustration: a simitdji.] bordering on albania and epirus, and east of them, you will find a district marked on the map as macedonia. it is inhabited principally by tartars, bulgarians, and greeks, with a large sprinkling of jews in its seaport towns, specially in salonica, the thessalonica of scripture. the bulgarians belong to the slav family, and are mostly christians. some, however, have turned moslems, and are generally known under the name of pomaks. the pomaks have intermarried and fused with tartars, who migrated to macedonia, as well as to other parts of turkey, in large numbers when their native lands--the crimea, bessarabia, roumania, and bulgaria--passed under the sovereignty of christian rulers. they have high cheekbones, broad flat faces, globular noses, and sunken eyes. they are fanatical, ignorant, and naturally embittered against christians, and many, as the authors of the so-called bulgarian atrocities, have fled to escape the punishment they deserved. during the time of the russo-turkish war in 1879, i remember witnessing the wholesale flight of thousands of them to constantinople. many arrived in ox-drawn waggons laden with their families, their goods and chattels, and driving before them their cattle, which they disposed of for a mere song in the market. others were conveyed in railway-trucks, packed close like sheep in a pen, and seemed as bewildered. a peculiar sight was a truck-load of children packed among sacks and bedding, from which they emerged on the arrival of the train, like ants issuing from an ant-hill. the city swarmed with these immigrants, the courts of the mosques were converted into refuge houses, and the utmost misery prevailed until government had quartered them in different villages in asiatic turkey. there they still may be found, and their location recognized by their wretched wooden shanties and their squalor. but in many cases change of environment has not occasioned change of disposition, and i am assured that during the time of the armenian massacres (1896) pomaks quartered in brusa sharpened their knives and armed themselves to a man to kill and plunder the christians, and they were only prevented from carrying out this nefarious deed by the armed interposition of the humane turkish governor. in dress pomaks differ but little from the ordinary turk; in habits they are perhaps more industrious, and it may be put down to their credit that they introduced into constantinople and elsewhere a new and light form of carriage which is now extensively used for picnics and excursions into the country. in addition to the half-caste tartars of macedonia there are the pure tartars who for several centuries past have inhabited the highlands of asia minor, and who are credited with great trustworthiness. this quality, in addition to their capacity for long and rapid riding, has obtained for them the practical monopoly of the postal service in the interior of turkey, and the word _tartar_ has come to be synonymous with postillion, or mounted postman. there are relays of horses at stated intervals, but the same rider travels over the whole distance. his saddle is capacious, with broad stirrups in the form of an open shoe. the saddle has, moreover, a hump on which the rider can support his arms, and an arrangement for fixing a short rod, with a crescent-shaped top or cushion, on which the rider rests his chin and sleeps during night travelling. letters and parcels are placed in saddle-bags, which are thrown astride the saddle in the same way as paniers are with us. they are made of leather, of carpet, or camel's-hair, and the opening is closed through a series of loops running into each other. there is usually great excitement at the arrival of the tartar, and the letters, where no post office exists, are strewn on the floor of a room of the _conak_, or governor's house, and applicants asked to pick out any addressed to them. money is also conveyed from province to province by these tartars, when, if the amount is large, several horses are strung together, and are escorted by mounted police. the currency in the interior being silver coins of the size of our five-shilling pieces, the jolting and friction occasioned by the drive are likely to tear ordinary bags, so the latter are enclosed in a special rope-bag, which is neatly and compactly knitted over them. gold coin is put up in leather, which is puckered up to form a bag, and tied and sealed on the top. the christian bulgarians of macedonia, having been brought up more or less under servitude, are of a much meeker character than the pomaks, but, judging from the strides which have been made by the other bulgarian races in turkey since their independence from turkish rule, we may infer that their macedonian brethren are also capable of great development. on the whole they are poor, and live in thatched hovels, plastered both within and without with a mixture of clay, cow-dung, and straw. the interior is divided into three rooms--a public room, a family bedroom, and one for keeping provisions. the floor is of clay, beaten hard, and is covered with coarse rugs and cushions large enough to serve as beds. a small oil-lamp burns in a corner under the _icon_, or picture, of some grim patron saint. outside the house is an oven, resembling an ant-hill, and accommodation for hens, pigs, and cattle, and the whole is enclosed with a wall and guarded by dogs. the bulgarians are frugal in their habits, and live principally on beans seasoned with vinegar and red pepper, and they have a great partiality for garlic. their principal occupation is agriculture and sheep-farming. the men's dress somewhat resembles the albanian, but their vests and jackets are generally made from sheepskins, with the wool turned inwards, and they wear on their heads the _calpak_, or low cap, made from black lamb-skins, with the wool turned outwards. this _calpak_ is as much the national characteristic of the bulgarian as the fez is of the turk. the women's dress is pleasing--green and red being very conspicuous--and when in gala dress their persons are weighted down with ponderous silver ornaments worn on the head, round the neck, waist, and wrists. their national music is the bagpipe, but the music is very primitive, and does not soar to the heights of the pibrochs of scotland, and their dance is heavy and uncouth, and apparently modelled from the bear. indeed, in one of these dances the principal dancer puts on a real bearskin, and, led about by a young girl, performs all sorts of antics, much to the enjoyment of the spectators, who at the close of the performance all join in hooting and pursuing the dancer. formerly large bands of bulgarian dancers used to come to constantinople during the easter festivities, and march through the streets with inflated bagpipes, or resort to the field of sports. their bear-dance ended, they would fling their caps heavily to the ground, then pick them up, and walk round with them to the crowd for the collection of coppers. but the bulgar is no longer popular, either with the turk or the greek, and they now seldom grace the festivals in the capital with their presence and their antics. the greek population of macedonia is not large, but is inimical to the bulgarian, both from feeling of racial antipathy and from religious discord. both, it is true, belong to what is called the greek or orthodox church, but a few years ago a dispute arose regarding the language in which services should be conducted in bulgarian churches. the patriarch and heads of the greek church insisted that it should be greek, whereas the bulgarians, who do not understand greek, claimed that it should be bulgarian, the language of the people. the dispute led to a disruption, and now the bulgarian church is governed by a bulgarian exarch, and the priests and language are bulgarian, but the greek church considers them schismatics, and will have no ecclesiastical dealings with them. further reference to greeks will be made in chapter v. chapter iii circassians, lazes, and kurds passing over to asia minor, we come across groups of a very interesting race called the circassian. inhabiting originally the belt of lofty mountains which run from the black sea to the caspian, they were conquered in 1864 by the russians, after nearly a century of resistance, and no less than half a million were expelled, and received hospitality in turkey. this welcome was extended, not only because the exiles were moslems, but also because that country, remarkable for the beauty of its women, had hitherto supplied the turkish slave-market with wives for the palace and the grandees. the vendors were their own fathers or guardians, who by this method secured, not only a substantial profit for themselves, but also provided comfortable homes and even royalty for their daughters. with so much circassian blood in their veins, it was natural that the turks should show themselves sympathetic toward these poor fugitives, and find settlements for them in various parts of their dominion. moreover, in doing so they kept up the market for wives; for although slavery is officially abolished in turkey, there is still an underhand commerce with the circassian colonists for the disposal of their daughters as aforesaid. however revolting this transaction may appear to us, it is consistent with the customs prevalent in circassia itself, where a suitor is expected to buy his intended from her father. but there, at least, he must further arrange to run away with her, an undertaking which is not so easy if the young lady does not consent. the characteristics of circassians are their small and beautifully shaped hands and feet, the grace and agility of their movements, and their clear complexion. they are temperate in their habits, and frugal, their national meal consisting of millet boiled in mutton fat. the circassians are splendid horsemen, but are rather lax about their perception of what is mine or thine; indeed, their tartar name, _tcherkes_, implies a "robber." they are entirely uneducated. the following pretty circassian custom came under my personal notice. it was an application made by one of their chiefs to my father for intervention on his behalf with government for the extension of a grant of land. the letter in question was addressed to "pasta baba"--_i.e._, the father of bread--a name by which my father was known through distributing charitable subscriptions raised in great britain; it was sent by a special messenger, and was attached to the wings of a snow-white pigeon. a gift of a few geese of spotless purity accompanied it. the petition was duly transmitted to government, and the request granted. there is a turkish saying that the almighty assigned the sovereignty of the land to the moslem, but that of the sea to the giaours, or infidels. but among the subject races of turkey there is one which has distinguished itself for its intrepidity on the water and the fearlessness with which it navigates the black sea--a sea well deserving its sinister epithet. the lazes occupy the eastern and south-eastern shores of the black sea, and their sailing-boats and ships do the coasting trade between these regions and constantinople. like all mariners of olden days, they cease navigating the seas during the winter, and draw up their lighter boats on the beach, and anchor their heavier ones in harbours. the lighter boats are styled _tchektermes_, and are from 30 to 50 feet in length, with sharp, beaky prow and stern. they carry a long bowsprit, with one or two jib-sails hoisted from a short mast, placed nearer the bows than the stern. a long boom, attached obliquely to the mast, serves to support an enormous sail, which, when the boat is on the tack, bellies out to such a remarkable extent that it resembles the section of a balloon. yet notwithstanding this departure from the principles of sailing, _tchektermes_ can run close up to the eye of the wind, and are very swift in their movements. a faint idea of this sort of sail is given in the picture of the lighter in the illustration of "the bridge from galata" in the frontispiece. [illustration: a stamboul beggar.] the _tchektermes_ are only partially decked, a covered stern and bow serving for cabins for the crew. the undecked sides are heightened by 2 or 3 feet, with a tarred awning, which protects from surf and spray. the larger ships used by the lazes are from 200 to 300 tons; they are very quaint, and resemble ancient galleons. there is very little discipline among the crew, and everyone has a say and advice to give to the captain, who is much on the same level as his men. a large number of lazes come to constantinople, and engage in the shipping trade or as stevedores, but others form into guilds for digging and carrying on operations in connection with housebuilding, and are very industrious and hard-working. their hours of labour often extend during the summer season from five in the morning till eight at night. they, in common with all labourers in the east, are not engaged by time, as with us, but, like those labourers mentioned in scripture, at a fixed charge for the day. another people strongly resembling the lazes in appearance, but inhabiting the mountainous regions to the south of them, all the way up to and into persia, are the kurds, of whom you have probably heard a good deal in connection with the armenian massacres. their country is called kurdistan, and is drained by the tributaries of the euphrates and the tigris. several of its mountains rise to the height of 6,000 to 7,000 feet. kurds are also to be found in all the hilly districts of armenia and mesopotamia. they are a sinewy, dark, well-formed race, with a fierce look which betrays an equally ferocious character. they owe but slight allegiance to the turkish empire, and are under the rule of chiefs, more or less independent, who organize robber bands to plunder or blackmail caravans. they possess remarkably fine horses, which are greatly in demand for the turkish cavalry. the kurds themselves are great riders, and with their long javelins, bows, or muskets, are a terror to their neighbours. they are also experts in the use of the sling. during the recent armenian massacres they were allowed a free hand, and their cruelty and rapacity were such as to defy description. the ex-sultan, abdul hamid, incorporated a number of them into a division of cavalry, commanded by their own officers, which constituted his bodyguard, and he paid them largely, and dressed them handsomely, but since his dethronement they have been disbanded as too insubordinate. it is the boast of the kurds that their country gave birth to the great saladdin, who in the twelfth century fought against our richard coeur de lion in the holy land. most of the kurds are migratory in their habits, but others reside in villages, where they sow their fields with seed in spring-time, and then quit them in order to pasture their flocks in the mountains. in autumn they return to their villages, and reap their harvest. those residing in the plains are of a more peaceful disposition, and exercise much ingenuity and show much taste in the manufacture of carpets. these are entirely of wool, and are of that light description known as _kilims_, used in this country for portiã¨res. occasionally some of the women working at them weave in locks or tresses of their own hair, which is supposed to add to the value of the carpet. it certainly adds to its quaintness. a peculiar product of the kurdish forests is manna, a sweet exudation on the oak-leaf. these leaves are beaten down from the trees, and collected on sheets, and then pressed into lumps and eaten, either in their natural condition, or used as a sweetening ingredient. manna has a sweet, pleasant taste, and is called by the kurds the "divine sweetmeat." it is sold in the courts of the mosques in constantinople during the sacred month of ramazzan. lake van, on the confines of kurdistan, is about 70 miles long and 28 miles broad. its waters are salt, but brackish near the streams, and when evaporated produce a kind of soap used in the country. the lake abounds in a peculiar kind of carp (_cyprinus tarachi_), locally known as _dareg_, which is said to exist nowhere else, and which is dried and eaten extensively in the neighbourhood. chapter iv armenians adjoining kurdistan lies armenia, but it is difficult to determine where the one begins and the other ends, as during the time of the armenian troubles the sultan decreed that no such place as armenia should exist, and vast stretches of country inhabited by armenians were officially incorporated in the villayets, or provinces, of kurdistan and others. so determined was the sultan to blot out the name he hated that the censors were ordered to prohibit or deface all books having reference to armenia, and the writer of these lines had unpleasant experiences at the custom-house where a number of his books were mutilated; keith johnston's book on "geography," for instance, had ten pages torn out. but in spite of imperial edicts, armenia still exists, and will continue to do so as long as mount ararat stands as a monument in the land to proclaim an antiquity claimed to be coeval with noah. the traditions of the deluge are still cherished by the armenians, who yearly celebrate the exit from the ark, and symbolize it in their national pudding, called the _anoosh aboor_, or sweet pudding. this consists of as many varieties of dried fruits as they can collect, which they mix together and stew, in imitation, it is alleged, of noah, who did the same with the remnants of the provisions he had stored in the ark. on this occasion they also sprinkle water on each other's faces, to denote the flood, and liberate captive doves and make cakes to represent birds. tradition also maintains that it was in armenia, on the southern slopes of ararat, still rich in vines and olive-yards, that noah planted the first vineyard. a withered root of one of the plants is still exhibited to show the result of the divine malediction on the vine which occasioned his drunkenness. armenia has passed through a number of vicissitudes, and frequently changed masters, and, owing to its geographical position, has often been the highway for the passage of opposing armies. it was the first country that officially embraced christianity, their sovereign, tigranes, having been converted at the end of the third century by gregory the illuminator, and the armenian church has since been called the gregorian. armenia fell under the sword of the moslem powers, and many of its inhabitants were compelled to turn mahomedans, but as a whole they bravely maintained their faith and worship, notwithstanding persecutions. they have a language and an alphabet of their own, the latter consisting of thirty-eight letters, and expressing so many sounds that it is often used with advantage in writing turkish also. the language spoken by the people principally is turkish, while that used in the church services is ancient armenian, which is not understood by the illiterate, but efforts are now made to revive the use of modern armenian, and it is being taught in their schools, and spoken more extensively. armenia is to-day portioned between russia, persia, and turkey, the latter ruling over the largest share. the population of the turkish section is probably about 1,000,000, but about as many, if not more, are spread about other portions of the empire, and constantinople holds 150,000. the armenians are of medium height, but broad-shouldered and of powerful build; their complexion is swarthy, their hair black, and they can grow magnificent beards. their eyes are black, and their nose aquiline, or eagle-beaked. this latter characteristic is very marked, and can be traced back to the coins of tigranes, and of their earliest sovereigns. their habits are indolent, and years of servitude have made them timid, and until quite recently they appeared so infatuated with their masters that their highest ambition seemed to be to ape them. they have been described as "having no high feeling, no emulation, no enthusiasm, no longing for a place among nations, no aspirations after the bright and the beautiful." but now all this has changed--at least with the educated people--and ecclesiastically, as well as socially, they have aspirations for an improvement in their condition. they have great business capacities, and show some aptitude in the arts, especially in weaving and embroidery, but have little initiative. they are naturally devout and kind-hearted, especially to animals, and ill-treatment of the latter is considered as deserving ecclesiastical censure, a case being on record where a priest imposed a fast of twenty years upon a woman for killing her cat. villagers and armenians from the interior are remarkable for their honesty, and have been entrusted for generations with the guardianship of merchants' offices, banks, shops, and the surveillance of public establishments. their inducements to faithfulness are strengthened by their conviction that honesty is the best policy, for as a result of their proverbial trustworthiness their functions have come to be regarded as hereditary, and when one servant dies or returns to his family, he is replaced by his son, or brother, or near relative. there is thus solidarity between the members of a family, and even between the citizens of a town, for there are some towns--mush, for instance--that hold the palm for the integrity of its inhabitants. an occupation, akin to the previous one, held by armenians, in common with turks of asia minor, is that of porterage, an institution of the greatest importance, especially in constantinople, where the narrowness or steepness of the streets often prevents wheeled conveyance. these porters, known under the name of _hamals_, carry their burden on their back by means of a leather cushion, which is strapped over their shoulders, and called a _semer_, or saddle (see illustration, "in the grand bazaar," chapter iv.), and it is extraordinary what weight and bulk they can carry. the object to be carried, if heavy, is lifted by one or two companions, and rested on the _semer_, while the wearer stoops forward to receive it. great care is necessary to poise and balance it properly, as the secret of lifting lies in the correct adjustment--an art which with the _hamals_ seems instinctive. a short rope is then thrown over the burden, and the ends are held by the porter so as to prevent the burden from slipping as he proceeds on his way with heavy but steady steps. should the road be steep, he will generally find resting-stones, which have been placed at regular intervals, where he can lean his burden without removing it, and obtain a brief repose. the placing of these resting-stones is considered a meritorious act among moslems, and finds its equivalent in the rest-and-be-thankful stones to be met with in many places in this country, where the weary traveller sits and blesses the donor. it is an interesting study to watch the muscles of the _hamal's_ legs distend and his veins dilate as, nearly bent in two, he treads leisurely along, groaning under a weight which it would take two ordinary men to carry. conveying a piano, for instance, is no unusual occurrence, and on one occasion the writer had coals conveyed to his house, situated on a hill, and about three miles from the ship, at the same price as they would have been conveyed by horses, each _hamal_ carrying half a horseload. a _hamal's_ carrying capacity may therefore be expressed, after this experience, as equal to a half horse-power. [illustration: in the grand bazaar] if the object to be conveyed is a very heavy one, it is suspended on a long pole, and carried between two _hamals_, the rounded ends of the poles resting on their shoulders, with perhaps a leather pad between to protect the bone. should the weight be heavier still, say a large bale of merchandise or a pig of lead, four, six, or eight _hamals_ combine, each pair carrying a separate pole. as they march swinging and staggering along, with their right hand resting on their neighbours' left shoulder, and occupying half the street, they shout _varda!_ which means "make room!" and everybody has to clear out and rush to the sidewalk, or run the risk of being thrown over. _hamals_ form themselves into guilds, allotting themselves special spheres of work or districts, and are very jealous of interference by outsiders in what they consider their monopoly. in addition to the porterage of goods they also undertake the hewing of wood, such as is used for warming purposes in the east. they begin by conveying it on their backs in lengths of 5 or 6 feet, in which it arrives from the forests, and, throwing it in a heap in front of your door, they proceed forthwith to chop it with their axes into lengths of 12 to 14 inches, and then store it. in the meanwhile half the street is occupied by the hewers, and chips fly right and left, endangering the eyes and faces of passers-by. up to the time of the armenian massacres, armenian _hamals_ had nearly the entire monopoly of the constantinople custom-house porterage, but the majority were slaughtered in cold blood or had to flee, and kurds (many of whom were their murderers) were engaged in their place. but the latter had neither the experience, nor the skill, nor the obliging manners of the armenians, and for a long time business was disorganized, and merchants were discontented. before dismissing the subject of the _hamals_, reference may be made to a peculiar contrivance they adopt for preventing water conveyed in open barrels from spilling, through the vibration. it simply consists in floating a disc of wood on the surface, and this seems as effectual as the sailors' device of throwing oil over the troubled waters. anyone may try it and see the result. it is difficult to depict the habits of a people in a country so widespread as armenia, but i may briefly allude to the houses they inhabit in erzerum, the principal town of armenia, and one which, according to armenian tradition, stands on the site of the garden of eden! in any case, the climate has changed since those blissful days, for owing to its high latitude of 5,000 feet above the sea, that district is bitterly cold during the winter and hot during the summer. indeed, for six months of the year, and more, snow is said to lie in the streets of erzerum. the houses are in consequence low and small, consisting generally of a ground-floor only, with a flat roof over it. they are built of stone against the sides of a hill, and each room stands with a separate roof. as these roofs or terraces are connected with steps, one can walk a very considerable way over them. during the summer they are overgrown with grass, and are the favourite resort of women and children, the latter taking with them their lambs to browse over the grass and flowers. each room of these houses has a fireplace, where cow-dung fuel is consumed. the furniture is very simple, and consists of a raised divan round three sides of the room, on which the family sit during the day, and often sleep at night. only few houses possess chairs and tables. meals are served on a round tray placed on a stool, around which the family squat and partake from a common dish. the characteristic feature of the house is the stable for oxen, one portion of which has a raised platform, with divans and carpets, and is used as the men's reception-room. the breath of the cattle helps to keep it warm and cosy, and underneath the platform the dogs lie and sleep, while on the divan, resting along with the men, are lovely silken-haired cats, many of which have their tails dyed red with henna. in winter the houses can hardly be distinguished under the snow, and the town is described as a great rabbit-warren, with the passages leading to the doors of the houses like so many burrows. chapter v greeks and vlachs in our account of the races ruled over by the turks we must not forget the greeks, those enterprising colonists who, long before the christian era, settled along the coast of the black sea, and all along the sea-line which now fringes the ottoman empire, as well as in its islands, and who also founded commercial stations in the interior. in earliest times we find them connected with such expeditions as the argonautic, in quest of the golden fleece, and returning, not only with rich trophies, but with wonderful legends regarding the lands they visited. i could entertain you at great length on their adventures in the countries i am describing, but this is not the object of this book, and my reference to the past must only be to show you that the present greeks in turkey are much the same people as their ancestors, with the same love for commerce, the same love for the beautiful and the same glowing imagination. yet they differ in this respect, that they are now a subject instead of an independent people. they also differ in not calling themselves hellenes, but romei--_i.e._, romans--an appellation which, strange to say, applies only to members of the greek church. roman catholics contemptuously refuse to be called romei, and style themselves latins. intermarriages have somewhat tainted the purity of their blood, and in many cases they have lost the use of their mother-tongue, and can only speak turkish, but still they are greeks to all intents and purposes, and mostly members of the greek or orthodox church. the greek type of face is much the same as what we see in the statuary in our museums. the forehead is broad but rather low, the nose and profile straight, the eyes large, the lips full, the chin firm, and the neck rounded. they are tall and stately, and graceful in their movements, and have small hands and feet. in character they are highly imaginative, superficial, and shrewd, but make excellent husbands and wives, and inspire their children with a love for home and respect for their parents. in education the wealthier classes are advanced, but the peasantry are still backward. the greek spoken by the latter is very corrupt, and has a large admixture of turkish and italian, but the efforts of school boards and of the local newspapers are tending to purify and elevate it. at present even the new testament greek is above the average man's comprehension. the greeks, as of yore, have much of the heroic in their character, and their ballads are full of the noble deeds, both of men and of women, in their defence against their oppressors. their usual method of vindicating their rights and protecting themselves consisted in forming bands of _armatolã¦_, or _kleptã¦_, and occupying strongholds in the mountains, from which they would sweep down unexpectedly and avenge themselves, or carry away some wealthy pacha as captive until he was ransomed. these bands were looked up to by the people as heroes and deliverers--the jephthas and gideons of their captivity. but unfortunately their exploits were not resorted to for the cause of freedom and justice alone, and have often degenerated into sheer acts of brigandage. a series of them were recently enacted in macedonia, and on one occasion an englishman was surprised, surrounded, and carried to the mountains. a messenger was sent down with a demand for his ransom, and with a threat that unless this was produced within a stated time, or if pursuit was made, his life would be forfeited. the sum fixed upon was the captives' weight in gold, and as he unfortunately happened to be a heavy man, the amount represented â£12,000. the ransom was duly paid, but the money afterwards recovered from the turkish government. as an instance of the strange mixture of superstition and depravity among some of these brigand bands, it is related that on one occasion a band plundered a church, and then, seizing the priest, the _kleptã¦_ put a sword to his throat until he absolved them from the offence. acts of brigandage are not, however, limited to greeks, though they are the chief offenders, but are shared with albanians and turks. nor have macedonia and greece had the monopoly, but smyrna and the hill-country near constantinople have given scope for their activities. their spies and agents in these towns supplied them with information, and the villagers and shepherds about their districts being in full sympathy, kept them in supplies and ammunition. from the bandit it is pleasant to turn to the agricultural and pastoral life of the greeks in turkey, and describe the assistance that boys and girls give to their parents. when the wheat or barley has been harvested, the sheaves are spread on the threshing-floor, which has previously been carefully prepared with clay and stones beaten down into a smooth surface. a broad wooden sledge is then provided, with sharp flint-stones firmly embedded into the under portion. one or two horses are attached to the sledge and a boy or girl, seated on a stool on the sledge, seizes the reins, and whip in hand, drives the horses at full gallop round and round the threshing-floor. the sharp flints, acting as knives, soon cut up the long stalks into straw, and separate the grain. then a windy day is selected, and with long wooden forks the straw is tossed up into the air, the wind carrying the chaff and straw to a short distance, and leaving the heavier grain at the winnower's feet. the winnowed grain is then shovelled up into a heap, and there it must remain until the tax-gatherer has come and removed one-tenth on behalf of the government. the harvest-festival follows, when, attired in their best clothes and with flowers on their heads and sheaves of golden grain in their hands, the harvesters proceed to the towns, and dance and sing before the doors of their patrons. one of their favourite dances is the old classical _syrto_, or long-drawn dance, performed on the village green. the youths and maidens don their picturesque gala costumes, and prepare for the dance, while the elderly men group themselves round the coffee-house, smoking their pipes and sipping coffee, and the matrons, with little ones, sit under the trees and gossip. a musician, with fiddle, pipe, or viol, sits on a barrel, while each youth produces his coloured handkerchief, and, holding it by one corner, presents the other to the girl at his side. she in her turn presents her own to the dancer next to her; a long line or circle is formed, and the dance is proceeded with, the youths and maidens responding to each other in the words of a song. the dress of the girls differs very much according to the locality where they reside. that of the villages near constantinople consists of a loose, bright-coloured bodice, worn over a blouse open at the neck, and a coloured kerchief twisted round the head, from under the folds of which the hair hangs down the back in rich plaited tresses. the trousers are loose, baggy, and voluminous, and are fastened with a cord round the waist. [illustration: a shekerdjis' shop.] over the bodice a bright zouave is worn, richly embroidered in gold or silver, and strings of gold or silver coins hang round the head, or as a necklace round the throat, while on the wrists are heavy bracelets. in other places it is described as consisting of "a skirt woven in stripes of silk and woollen, reaching to the ankles, with a tight-fitting bodice of the same, a cloth jacket braided or embroidered round the borders in gold thread and lined with fur, and in some districts a bright-coloured apron ornamented with needlework" (l. garnett, "women in turkey"). the same writer reports that in the islands a favourite amusement on these occasions is for the girls to suspend a rope across a narrow street from the wall of their own house to that of a neighbour, and every youth who wishes to pass by must pay toll in the form of a small coin, and give one of the girls a swing, while he sings the following verse: "o swing the clove-carnation red, the gold and silver shining: and swing the girl with golden hair, for love of her i'm pining." to which the maiden replies: "o say what youth is swinging me, what do you call him, girls? for i a fez will broider him, with fairest, whitest pearls." the vlachs that inhabit macedonia follow principally pastoral and agricultural pursuits. they spend the winter in their mountain villages, but during the summer they lead a nomadic life in quest of pastures, and move about, gipsy-like, in caravans. the care of their father's flock is committed to the charge of the daughters, whose beauty has often been extolled in many an amorous folklore song. their duties are to milk the sheep and goats, churn the milk into butter, or convert it into cheese, bleach and spin the wool, and weave garments for the use of the family. a loom occupies the corner of every dwelling, and every spare moment is given to twisting thread with a spindle. there is considerable dislike among the greeks to let their daughters go out to service, but this feeling is not shared by the inhabitants of the greek islands. on the contrary, they supply the main stock of domestic servants, and recognized agents sail to and from the islands to find them occupation and attend to their interests. these greek servants are generally very ignorant, can seldom write, and depend on the agent or some kind friend both for reading and writing their letters. they do not draw their pay monthly or quarterly, but prefer to allow it to accumulate with their masters, and withdraw it in a lump sum. after having stayed for some years in service, the girls are greatly in demand with their countrymen, and return to their islands and marry, but only to go back to service when their lazy husbands have expended their savings. many of them return in the capacity of wet-nurses, a vocation greatly in demand in the east, where children are seldom brought up on the bottle. they are highly paid, and, moreover, receive presents on such important occasions as the child's cutting its first tooth and the like. their social position is also different from that of other servants, for as foster-mothers they have a say in the child's upbringing, and their own children can claim kinship as foster-brothers or foster-sisters. strange and incongruous connections are often the result, as, for instance, in the case of an acquaintance of mine in smyrna, a british subject and manager of a bank. his foster-brother, a greek, took to the mountains, and was known as the famous brigand, caterdjee yiani, and many a time the latter escaped detection and arrest by hiding in the house of his british milk-kinsman. wet-nurses in the sultan's palace are, it is stated, invariably circassians, and their own children become playmates with the crown princes, and are not forgotten in after life. the foster-mother enjoys a title of courtesy, and often her influence in the palace comes next to that of the reigning sultan's mother. in the case of the wet-nurse of sultan abdul aziz, her power was such that frequently the appointment or dismissal of governors and other state officials depended on her good-will. greek servants are as a rule honest, but very slovenly, and at first very raw and unused to the ways of civilized life. they love to go about barefooted, or shuffle in slippers. their hair is seldom combed, and their garments hang loosely about them. their head-dress is a printed kerchief, called a _fakiol_, which they wear both indoors and out of doors, but the more advanced wear hats, and consider it such a distinction, that a man-servant of mine, who wanted to get married, could not describe his intended to me in more flattering terms than by saying that "she wears the _capello_" (hat). on sundays they put on their finery and are very keen to go to church, and gossip with their fellow-servants in the women's gallery. it was probably to similar tittle-tattling, so common in eastern churches, that st. paul referred when forbidding women to "speak in the churches." * * * * * factories are so seldom to be seen in turkey that women have few opportunities of employment as factory-girls, but in the silk-spinning factories in brusa greek, armenian, and turkish girls work side by side. their great ambition is to be possessed of and wear gold coins about their persons, but specially a five-lira piece, representing about â£4 10s. of our money. too eager to wait until their savings enable them to buy that coin, they go to a money-changer and receive one immediately on credit, paying him weekly a stipulated instalment, and interest at 12 per cent. a year in addition. the result is that when they have paid off the debt they find that the coin has cost them at least â£6 or â£7; but in the meanwhile their feminine vanity has been gratified, and the coin displayed three or four years earlier than otherwise. a curious class of people to be found in nearly every village in turkey, and even in the interior of arabia, egypt, and khartoum, is that of the _bakals_, or grocers, who are greeks from kaisarieh, in karamania (asia minor). fat, dumpy, and oily, with dirty, baggy trousers, greasy vests and shining countenances, they are as like one another as two peas. they have practically the monopoly of the retail grocery business, and their shops contain everything you can imagine in the way of eastern articles of diet--bread, cheese, black olives, salted anchovies, sardines, curdled milk called _yiaourt_, oil, vinegar, salt, sugar, rice, sausages, and dried meats, honey, butter, dried fruits, tallow candles, matches, etc. their little boys--chips of the old block--go round every house, calling out "_bakalis_" and catering for orders, or bringing them back in conical bags of brown paper. nearly everybody buys on credit, and an account is run up (not always too honestly) which, after a short time, becomes formidable, and credit is stopped till an instalment is paid. the _bakals'_ book-keeping is of the most primitive type, and will baffle the sharpest chartered accountant; but mistakes are seldom on the wrong side. a peculiar method for recording the number of loaves of bread distributed in each house is that of the _tchetoula_, and consists in cutting a notch on a piece of stick for every loaf taken. the householder retains the stick, and receives a new one when the amount is paid. another method is to make a chalk-mark on the door, and efface it on payment. with a community living from hand to mouth like the eastern, it is difficult to know what they would do without the ubiquitous _bakal_. besides making himself useful in the catering-line, he frequently is the only man in his village who can read, and is resorted to both for reading and writing letters. his correspondence is carried on in turkish words, but with greek characters, full of conventional signs and contractions, and is next to impossible to decipher. stray newspapers sometimes reach him, and the news of the day is conveyed by him to clients; and should there be a christian church in his village, he is sure to be one of its dignitaries, and as _psaltis_, or precentor, preside over the singing. another curious product, if i may so call it, of the greek market is a class of beggars known as the _volitziani_. they come from villages in thessaly, and are young women who put aside their best garments, and don an old black skirt and black jacket, so as to assume an air of abject poverty. when about to start they receive from their community a beggar's staff, as a badge or passport of their functions, and they proceed to constantinople, or any other town where begging offers advantageous prospects. on their arrival they borrow or hire two or three children, one of which is an infant, and which they drug and cause to sleep on a handkerchief spread out in a corner of the street. the beggar sits beside it, putting on her most tearful looks, and when any likely passer-by approaches, she raises her voice in supplication, and sends the other children to pull at his coat-tails. these _volitziani_ frequent the neighbourhood of churches, and their appeal is: "give for the sake of the souls of the departed." the result is a plentiful harvest of coins, which enables them to return with a bagful to their country. the beggar's staff is then hung behind the door as a trophy. should they desire to proceed on another begging expedition, a second staff is given them, and so on, and at each successive return the staff that has done service is deposited behind the door. sometimes as many as seven make up the trophy. young men desiring to find wives with money pry behind the door, and form an approximate idea of the fortune of the owner, the one with seven staffs taking, of course, the palm. constantinople was once the great resort of beggars of all descriptions, and lines of them used to exhibit on the galata bridge (see frontispiece) all manners of deformities to elicit sympathy, but one of the reforming measures of the young turks was to expel them from the city. in illustration facing chapter iii. you will see one of these wayside beggars. chapter vi jews--superstitions we read in the new testament of jews scattered all over the roman empire. the same is true of them to-day in turkey. their principal resorts are constantinople, smyrna, salonica, and the other great towns. some are original colonists, principally from palestine; others are exiles from spain in 1493. common vicissitudes with the moors, who had also been ejected from spain, created sympathy for them in the moslem world, and, to the honour of the turk let it be told, they were offered a shelter and a home. these immigrants introduced with them the jargon which they had employed in spain, and which consists of a mixture of hebrew and spanish, and is known as judeo-spanish. to it have been grafted a number of italian and turkish words, and it has been adopted as the common vernacular of both classes of jews above mentioned. [illustration: a cemetery by the bosphorus.] another division is that of hebrews from russia, poland, and austria. these do not understand judeo-spanish, but speak corrupt russian and german, and differ from their southern brethren in features and customs; they all adhere to the law of moses, and accept the teaching of the prophets. there exists also a sect of jews called _dunmã©s_, or turncoats, who are both mahomedans and jews. ostensibly they are the former, and observe all moslem rites, but secretly they practise those of the hebrews also. the dunmã©s give their children two names, one a turkish, such as mustapha, and the other a hebrew, such as jacob. they reside chiefly in salonica, and are very fanatical, and were the ringleaders of a riot against the christians in 1870. on the other hand, several have distinguished themselves recently by joining the reform party in turkey, known as young turks, who overthrew sultan hamid, and introduced the constitution. perhaps they are the only class of jews who are seamen, and it is interesting to watch their flotilla of small boats board the steamers that arrive in salonica. from their screams and shouts, you would think yourself in pandemonium. the originator of the sect was a certain sabbatai levy, who proclaimed himself the messiah in 1648, but afterwards accepted mahomedanism to save his life. his adherents believe in his return, and it is stated that one of their number always awaits the arrival of the railway-train in salonica to offer him a welcome. jews in turkey are not relegated to ghettos, as in several european cities, but all the same they live in separate quarters, as, indeed, do all the other nationalities. their quarters may be recognized by their malodorous smells, their filth, and the numerous families residing in the houses, and also from the babel of tongues, and the shrill, discordant voices of women or children shouting to each other or quarrelling. jews in the east engage principally in commerce, banking, money-changing, pawnbrokerage, dealings on the stock exchange, watchmaking, and shopkeeping. a feature among them is the early age at which boys commence earning their daily bread. as young as six or seven you may see them going about with trays containing cigarette-papers, pins, matches, and similar cheap articles. boys in this country will marvel at the ease and rapidity with which mere tots can work calculations mentally in the course of their business. when they grow up to manhood many engage in window-cleaning, an occupation which has come to be a jewish speciality, and which an eastern servant will resent if called upon to undertake. others go about riveting or cementing broken china, or, with a small charcoal brazier and soldering irons, as tinkers; others sell a special kind of sand for cleaning pots and pans, which they hawk about under its latin name of _arena_. some make a speciality of buying, washing, and sorting empty bottles, which they afterwards re-sell with profit; others, of course, buy up old clothes, or, with a capacious wooden box slung over their back, go about selling all those little articles which are indispensable to ladies. when called to a house they spread out all their paraphernalia, and the bargaining, which easterns take such a delight in, begins--buyer and seller trying to outwit and deceive each other--the housewife feeling happy and virtuous all day if she has beaten down the jew to one-third of his demands, and the jew unhappy because he had not charged more. hebrew marriages in the east occur at an early period of life, fifteen with girls and eighteen with boys, and even earlier in palestine. the result is large families and much destitution, but with all that one seldom sees any jewish beggars, their system for relief of poverty being so admirable. they are frugal in their habits, living largely on bread, salt-fish, leeks, and onions, and, during the season, on fruits. the produce sold in their shambles is, moreover, of the cheapest and most inferior quality, yet, notwithstanding all this, the jews are the longest lived and healthiest of the eastern races. the dress of those in constantinople consists of two or three long gowns, open below the knees; the sleeves are long. their head-dress is the turkish fez. in winter they wear long furs over their gowns. married women cover their hair with a sort of bag-like embroidered kerchief, called _yemeni_, which is painted with flowers and ornamented with lace and seed-pearls. within recent years much has been done, both by the jewish alliance and the scottish and english mission schools, to educate boys and girls, and there is certainly a great improvement. jews are fatalists, and are convinced that the decrees of fate are unalterable, yet they imagine that providence may be cheated and thus deterred from its purposes. accordingly, if joseph happens to fall ill, and there is a likelihood of his dying, they forthwith change his name into, we will say, benjamin, and they expect that when the angel of death arrives to fulfil his mission he will think he has made a mistake, and gone to the wrong house. so everyone in the room keeps addressing the invalid as benjamin, and, should he recover, they all congratulate themselves on their masterly deception. another expedient, but principally connected with children's ailments, is to trap the malevolent demon who has induced the sickness, and this they profess to do by laying a trail of sugar from the child's sick-bed to a well. the greedy demon follows the track, and gets drowned! dread of the evil-eye is as prevalent with the jews as with the other races in turkey. they believe that there are certain malignant spirits in existence who are envious of men's happiness and do all they can to destroy it, especially when any self-praise or praise by others has been expressed by the lips. this power, it is further believed, is not restricted to demons, but is also shared by individuals, especially those possessing blue eyes. quite an elaborate series of antidotes or prophylactics are adopted as a preservative against such influence, the most potent of which is to prefix to each commendation the magic spell-word _mashalla_--_i.e._, "in the name of god." to this may be added the power of the blue bead, the evil spirit having a great predilection for that colour. hence, if you praise a child for its beauty, and it happens to wear blue beads, the spirit's attention will be so absorbed with the bead that it will not hear your remarks. another preservative is garlic, which has a repellent effect on the evil spirit. as a consequence, everything in turkey that has to be protected from the evil-eye is decorated either with the one or the other, and you seldom see a horse, a draught ox, or even a donkey, that has not a string of blue beads about its neck. children wear these charms on their caps; and the prows of boats, the roofs of houses, cages of birds, and even hovels have a bunch of garlic suspended with strings. it is even stated that bouquets of flowers formed of spices, and in the centre of which garlic is nestled, are sent as a present to the mother of a new-born infant, as a safeguard both to herself and the child. suspended along with the garlic on the gables of turkish houses framed texts from the koran are often to be seen, and on the doorposts of hebrew houses a small tablet with the word _shadai_ (the almighty). jewish houses have also imprinted on the walls the impress of a man's hand, with the five fingers outstretched. in christian houses the prophylactic takes the form of a cross, which frequently is nailed on the eaves during the process of building. chapter vii gipsies--superstitions a people resembling the jews in that, like them, they are "found scattered toward all the four winds of heaven, and there is no nation whither these outcasts have not come," are the gipsies. they are to be met with in every part of the sultan's dominions, and in physical appearance, manners, and character they are very similar to those in our country. moslems and christians vie with each other in holding them in execration, and they are branded by the former as the _kitabsis_, or "bookless" nation, because of the unwritten form of their beliefs and worship. yet the presence of gipsy-girls at weddings and other ceremonies is much in demand, in order to amuse the guests with their dancing and singing, to the accompaniment of the tambourine or the flute. the men are frequently blacksmiths, or they rear horses and donkeys (besides stealing them), and frequently earn something by the sale of asses' milk, which is considered beneficial for chest complaints. the she-ass is led early in the morning to the patient's door, and the newly-drawn milk taken while quite warm and frothy. the children, of course, beg and steal, but the most fruitful occupation of the women is that of fortune-telling, the usual methods employed being the reading of the palm of the hand and cards. a little mirror placed in the bottom of a small box is also consulted. but divination and fortune-telling is not limited to gipsies; tall negro-women, with great rolling eyes, may be seen seated on the ground in public squares, with groups of inquirers of both sexes around them. they divine by means of beans or black pebbles (see illustration facing chapter vii.). there is another class of soothsayers who profess to recover lost property, and see or show the face of the thief reflected in the water of a deep well. a valuable ring was once lost in a house, and no clue or evidence could be obtained as to the culprit, so the services of a diviner were requisitioned. he arrived at night, bringing in a bag a red cock, which he professed would crow the instant the guilty party touched it. the inmates of the house were all ordered to squat in a circle on the ground; the cock was placed in their midst, and all lights were extinguished. "now," said the diviner, "let everybody rest their hands on the cock." they all apparently did so, and lights were called for, and an exhibition of hands was demanded. a red stain was visible on every hand except one--that of the guilty maid-servant, who had not touched the cock for fear of being betrayed. residents in turkey have inherited many of the superstitions of the greeks and romans, such as augury from the flight of birds, and the entrails of newly-slaughtered animals, and faith in astrology. the sultan keeps a royal astrologer, who publishes yearly a list of the lucky and unlucky days, and no one will think of undertaking a journey, marrying a wife, or commencing business without consulting it. at the birth of a child a horoscope is made out for his benefit, indicating under what constellation he was born, and laying down rules accordingly for his guidance. on a certain day in march a peculiar kind of sweet, resembling and tasting like spiced toffy, but coloured red and with a sheet of gold-leaf stuck on it, is sent round to all palace officials. the elegant bowl that contains it is fastened in bright muslin, and is tied with coloured ribbons and sealed, and has to be opened and the contents eaten at the specified moment indicated by the astrologer, in order to secure wealth and felicity during the year. when troubled with dreams or otherwise apprehensive of impending misfortune, turks believe that by hanging shreds of rags on the railings of the tomb of an old saint the danger may be averted. the consequence is that some of these shrines are literally covered and disfigured with rags. dogs are also considered excellent subjects to which disease may be transferred. the patient can effect this by feeding them. [illustration: a fortune-teller] a popular remedy for illness of any kind is to obtain from the _imam_, or priest, a written text of the koran and swallow it, and i have known of doctors' prescriptions being taken the same way, and doubtless with similar effect. another superstition is that, if a person has had a fall, water poured on the spot will prevent its repetition. a curious method for arresting the spread of infectious disease is to surround the patient with a circle of some disinfectant, and during a cholera scare i saw it applied to a man on the galata bridge who had an apoplectic stroke. the case was considered suspicious, and his body was removed, but a circle of whitewash, like the markings of a tennis-court, was drawn round the place where he had fallen, and the infection thus imprisoned! scraps of paper thrown in the street are held in reverence and removed by pious moslems, because the name of god may be written on them and profaned if trodden upon; but another version is that all scraps not thus collected by the moslem will be scattered over the burning soil through which he is to pass, after death, on the way to paradise, and will make his passage more painful. chapter viii syrians, druses, maronites, and bedouins an account of palestine having been given in "peeps at the holy land," i will not allude specially to it, although it belongs to turkey. arabic is the language also spoken in syria, which lies north of palestine, and in mesopotamia, which is to the east. of the ancient towns of tyre and sidon, once famous as the capitals of phoenicia, nothing now remains but ruins on which fishermen dry their nets. the inhabitants in the surrounding regions, however, still keep up many of their ancient customs and superstitions, and, in a modified way, baal and astarte are still worshipped. the slopes of the lebanon adjoining beyrout are inhabited by the druses and the maronites, who, since the year 1860, have obtained semi-independence, and are ruled by a christian governor appointed by the sultan. the lebanon ranges are very beautiful; they abound in aromatic flowers, and bees yield an enormous production of excellent honey. they are also the home of the cedar. as already stated, a railway, starting from beyrout, crosses the lebanon and connects it with damascus, one of the most ancient cities of the world. damascus is also one of the most beautiful, the plain on which it stands being a continuous garden, over fifty miles in circuit, rich in oranges, lemons, pomegranates, mulberries, figs, plums, apricots, walnuts, pears, quinces, etc. the town, through which flows a river, contains several magnificent structures, including a splendid mosque, which was once a christian church, but the streets of the city are squalid and dirty. one of the most interesting is that called straight, which st. paul traversed. damascus has a large manufacturing industry, and among other articles produces beautiful silks. it formerly produced those remarkable damascus swords, inimitable for hardness, elasticity, sharpness, and tenacity, as well as for the beauty of their ornamentation. it gives its name to the plums which we call "damsons." damascus is a great centre for the conveyance of merchandise to bagdad and persia by means of camel caravans--those fleets of the desert. they are accompanied by armed escorts, as their journey lies through a long stretch of desert, inhabited by numerous bedouins or arab tribes, ever ready to blackmail the caravan. these tribes inhabit the hauran during the spring, and move to the desert in autumn. they own camels, asses, and sheep, and rear magnificent horses, which are justly considered the most beautiful in the world. the bedouins live in tents made of black goat's-hair, and their camp looks from a distance like a number of grazing cattle. the tent of their _sheik_, or chief, is distinguished by its greater size, and round it are those of the members of the family. before the tent-doors the horses are tethered. family life among them is patriarchal, the sheik being priest, judge, and ruler. with some tribes women occupy a high social position, and menial work is done mostly by the men. the arabs subsist chiefly on dates, which they gather and store in october, but when in the desert they live to some extent on the produce of the chase, which comprises an abundance of gazelles, hares, and quails. these they hunt with greyhounds or with trained hawks. the latter, when they see their quarry, swoop upon it, and pick at its eyes until the hunter arrives. the bedouins live also on bread, which they bake in thin flat cakes, and on milk, specially in its fermented condition, which they call _leben_. their butter they have to keep in summer in jars, as, owing to the heat, it is then as liquid as oil. the great province of mesopotamia, where formerly stood babylon and nineveh, forms the south-eastern limit of the turkish empire. watered by the euphrates and the tigris, it was once a magnificent agricultural district, but the incompetency of its rulers has allowed the network of canals, which distributed the waters of these rivers, to dry up, and the country is now largely a wilderness. its population, the remnant of the chaldeans, has also decreased, and is poor. the houses are made with sun-dried bricks, cemented with bitumen. the roofs are flat, and the lower rooms are underground, and are used during the summer months as bedrooms, owing to the excessive heat. the navigation of the upper reaches of the euphrates is by means of rafts, underneath which are inflated skins of oxen. on this raft the traveller's tent is pitched, and he drifts leisurely down the river, while the boatmen help it along with long poles. chapter ix turks having summarized the customs of some of the people under ottoman rule, i must say something of the turks themselves. when a turkish baby comes to this world no dainty embroidered linen and warm bath await it, but it is dressed in a plain cotton shirt and a cotton, quilted dressing-gown. its limbs are then tightly wrapped in a long shroud, so that it cannot move them. frequently a cushion is put between its legs before shrouding, and this probably accounts for so many children being bandy-legged. the child is then rolled into a quilted blanket, which is strapped up into a shapeless bundle, from which a little head appears, wearing a red cap, copiously studded with blue beads and seed pearls, as a protection from the evil-eye. the baby is then laid in a wooden rocking-cradle, which has a bar connecting its two raised ends, by means of which the cradle is lifted. some of these cradles are very beautiful, and are inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl, and they bear appropriate inscriptions, carved in arabic characters on the woodwork, such as "under the shadow of the almighty," etc. among poorer people a canvas hammock takes the place of the cradle, and in it the baby is carried out of doors, and the hammock swung between two trees, while the mother attends to her duties. on the third day after birth it is washed and presented to its father, who shouts thrice in its ear the name by which it is to be known. a festive reception is then held by the mother in her room, and streams of women-visitors come to compliment her and peep at the infant. but the poor little thing does not receive the baby-worship and adulation bestowed in this country. on the contrary, it is addressed in insulting language, and called ugly, and a wretch, and a monster, and is deliberately spat upon--and all this in order to ward off the influence of the evil-eye. it is quite exceptional for a babe to be brought up in the east on the bottle; should its mother be unable to nurse it a wet-nurse is procured. both mothers and nurses are singularly ignorant in the question of upbringing, and many an infant dies through injudicious feeding after it is weaned. the love of turkish parents for their children is excessive to a fault. a characteristic story is related of a turk who was so distressed at the indisposition of his grandchild that he would neglect his business and hasten constantly to the patient's room to inquire as to his condition; and when the doctor ordered strict diet for a fortnight the anxious grandfather compelled his whole household, including himself, to submit to the same fare, for fear that the patient might be disappointed in not sharing the food of the family. to such extent do turks carry their love for children that they will adopt those of others, and bring them up with the same tenderness as their own, and will provide for them in after-life. children, on the other hand, are exemplary in their respect for their parents, and kiss their hands, and will not sit down, unless invited, in their presence. even when they have reached mature age their mother is consulted, confided in, and listened to with respect. "my wives die," says the osmanlee, "and i replace them; my children perish, and others are born to me; but who shall restore to me the mother who has passed away?" nor is this regard limited to the humbler classes; it is conspicuous in the case of the sultan, who, on his accession to the throne, elevates his mother to the rank of valide sultana, or queen-mother, and requires all persons belonging to his harem to swear allegiance to her. her rule is absolute, and even the sultan's wives cannot leave their apartments, or go out for drives, or shopping, without her permission. the early childhood of both boys and girls among turks is spent in the harem--that is, the section of the house reserved for the women--but until the age of twelve, girls are not subject to the restraints of grown-up women, nor required to wear the veil, and they often accompany their fathers in excursions or join the boys in their play. they even attend the same elementary school, and, sitting cross-legged with them on a mat, repeat the alphabet, or recite texts from the koran given out to them by the _imam_, or priest, of the mosque with which the school is connected. these recitations are carried on in a monotonous drawling tone, and the body is swung forwards and backwards, the _imam_ himself setting the time by his own rhythmical nodding. on their return home they frequently join their mothers and other inmates of the harem in an afternoon's stroll. the turks are great lovers of nature, and have a keen appreciation of the beautiful, but prefer sitting down to walking, and generally spend their afternoons resting under the shade of a great tree, or near the water's edge, making _kef_, or, in other words, doing nothing. they invariably carry with them a _boktcha_, or bundle, containing a rug and picnic requisites, while one of the party carries a red clay pitcher, with water. water is an indispensable requisite with turks, and they will enjoy drinking it from the pitcher as much as from a glass. [illustration: a turkish lady in outdoor dress.] the rug spread out, the party will all sit cross-legged upon it, and as other groups of women also congregate in the same place, dressed in garments of variegated colours, you would imagine yourself amid beds of many-coloured tulips, while the boys and girls playing around suggest fluttering butterflies. the enjoyment of the women consists in smoking cigarettes, and gazing between each puff at the glorious scenery. vendors of all sorts of eatables surround them, and, we will say, a _shekerdgi_, or dealer in sweeties, answers to their call, and places his circular tray, which he carries on his head, on the tripod-stand which he rests on the ground. the children flock around him, puzzled what to choose in that array of turkish delight and _shekers_ of every kind and colour. at last a choice is made, and the sweets are placed in a brown-paper bag shaped like a cone, and shared by the party. shortly afterwards an albanian selling _halva_ as described in chapter ii., is called to contribute his wares. then walnuts, pistachios, and peanuts come in for their turn, then ices, maybe, and something more solid in the shape of _simits_, or ring-cakes, as shown in the illustration in chapter ii. at sunset the _boktchas_ are made up, and the party wends its way home to partake of a more substantial meal. but should the night be bright, with moonlight, the party often start out again, and prolong their enjoyment until late hours, or until a policeman or old turk passing by reminds them it is time to retire. it is amusing, in connection with these moonlight promenades, to see the women walking about or sitting with open sunshades to protect themselves from the lunar rays, imagining, no doubt, that they occasion lunacy. sometimes a too close proximity to the bosphorus is selected for spreading the family rug, and an unusually large wash from a steamer passing by breaks unexpectedly on the shore, showering clouds of spray over the women's heads. the cold douche sets them all on their feet, screaming, and the bed of tulips now looks like one dashed by a storm. but sometimes the ladies are more enterprising; a picnic to some distant part is decided upon, and _arabas_, or carts, drawn by oxen or buffaloes, are engaged. these conveyances are springless, and about 9 feet long by 4 feet wide. those intended for excursion purposes have highly ornamented boards of carved, gilt, and painted wood on the two long sides, and an arched awning overhead, made usually of crimson cloth, with gilt or silver fringes. the yoke attached to the oxen's necks has also an arched projection over it, on which tassels of various colours, and sometimes bells, are suspended in two or more tiers. the driver, in baggy trousers, short jacket (often dispensed with), and a red fez, walks leisurely alongside the oxen, with a goad in his hand to direct them. the cart has no seats, but the occupants provide themselves with carpets and cushions. the jolting on bad roads is, of course, tremendous, but this is considered part of the fun of the excursion. packed as closely as possible, with the children to fill up odd corners, the cart proceeds on its way groaning and creaking, while its inmates roar with continued laughter, especially when an unusually big jolt has jostled them together. having arrived at their destination, the carpets are spread out, and while some prepare and lay out the appetizing viands, others disport themselves in the fields, and return laden with flowers and with great yellow marigolds stuck in their hair. the repast may consist of such _hors-d'oeuvres_ as salted sardines, black olives, caviar, and salad of _tchiros_, or dried mackerel. this mackerel is the fish that in spring-time migrates from the mediterranean, where it has spawned, into the black sea, and is in such an emaciated condition that the expression "thin as a _tchiros_" is used in turkey to designate a person of extreme leanness. nevertheless, it is caught and dried in the sun in such large quantities that the fields over which they are suspended look blue from a distance. they are sold by the pair, or "married couples," as the vendors cry out, and are grilled, shredded, and prepared into salad with oil and vinegar, and the tender leaves of the cummin (_tereot_). next to the _hors-d'oeuvres_ follow _dolmaz_ or rissoles of rice, raisins, and pine-nuts, seasoned with oil, and wrapped and boiled in vine-leaves. _keftez_ or meat rissoles come next, and then the fruits of the season, such as strawberries, cherries, and plums, or, should it be autumn, grapes, peaches, melons, water-melons, figs, etc. cheese is frequently eaten with these fruits. _hoshaf_, or the sweetened water in which fruit has been stewed, is generally drunk during meals, and when the humble repast is over, coffee is prepared, and served round in little cups which will barely hold an ounce. turkish coffee owes its excellence to the beans being newly roasted and newly ground. the grinding is done with a small machine, which pulverizes the beans very finely. the coffee is prepared in a special brass pot, the bottom of which is wider than the top. a teaspoonful is put in for every cup required, and the water is gently brought to a simmer over a slow fire. the coffee is allowed to rise thrice, and after resting the pot for a minute for the grounds to settle, it is poured out into the cups and drunk while quite hot, with or without sugar. the cups containing a creamy foam are the most recherchã©. the dregs are not drunk. the illustration on the cover of this book shows a kafedji in the act of preparing coffee. before and after partaking of food, hands are washed, and this is all the more necessary, as meals are eaten with the fingers, the party sitting round a low tray, and dipping into a common dish. should the hostess desire to confer a special attention on a guest, she takes up a dainty morsel in her fingers, and exclaiming _buyrum_ (welcome), places it gently into the guest's mouth. it would be the grossest insult to refuse. cigarettes invariably follow, and then comes the lounging and the sleeping, and the return home with the lingering rays of the setting sun. accompanying the _arabas_ large parties of turkish women and children may often be seen riding astride on donkeys, with donkey-drivers at their heels. no oriental or turkish lady would think of riding otherwise, and it is reported that quite a sensation was created when a european lady was first seen riding on a side-saddle. the conclusion was that the unfortunate creature had lost a leg, and people wondered how she could keep on with only the other. but perhaps the pleasantest method of locomotion is by _caik_--that daintiest of all boats that float on the surface of the waters. slender and tapering, its side view may be compared to a half-bent long-bow, and when looked upon from above to two such bows lying opposite each other, string to string. a picture of a heavy sort of _caik_, used for ferrying passengers across the golden horn, may be seen in the frontispiece. a _caik_ is about 20 feet long by 4 feet broad in the middle; it is constructed with slender boards, and is only decked at the bows and the stern. the boatman sits on a seat in the middle of the boat, and its two to four passengers on cushions in the bottom, while a servant sits cross-legged on the raised stern. the oars are long and slender, with a peculiar bulge at the upper extremity to balance them. they are fixed to the rowlock peg by leather thongs, which the boatman continually greases. he is clad in a shirt of transparent gauze, with long hanging sleeves, and bordered round the open chest with a scalloping of needlework. his feet are bare, his ample trousers are of white cotton, and his shaven head is only partially covered by a red fez with tassels of purple silk. at each stroke of the oars the arrowy boat flies and skims the waters like a thing of life. yet, though swift and graceful, the _caik_ is not so safe nor commodious as an ordinary boat, and in this practical age the _barka_ is rapidly replacing it. friday, the turkish sunday, is _par excellence_ the day for excursions during the summer to geuk-sou or the heavenly waters, a lovely spot on the asiatic shores of the bosphorus. a rivulet there discharges itself into the latter, and hundreds of boats may be seen shooting towards it from all directions. a vast concourse of people meet and sit on rugs or low stools, making _kef_ under the shade of superb oriental plane-trees which abound on that spot, and while sipping coffee or smoking hubble-bubbles, they watch the various performances going on for their benefit. here is a punch and judy show, called _cara-geuz_, or the black eye, closely resembling our own, and equally popular with the children. there goes a _pomak_ with a huge olympian bear, fastened through the nose with a ring; it has been trained to dance at the sound of a tambourine played by its master, and then to go round with it for coppers. children are always delighted with the bear-show, but the street-dogs set up a tremendous barking, and their cry of alarm is so peculiar and distinctive that one can always tell from the sound when a bear is in sight. there is frequently also on these occasions an open-air theatrical performance on an improvised stage, but the acting is coarse and vulgar, and admission is generally limited to men. of course at this, as at every open-air gathering, vendors of eatables and temperance drinks abound. among them i may enumerate _yiaourtgis_ or sellers of that curdled milk, resembling curds, which is now so largely advocated in this country for promoting longevity. it is sold in little bowls, carried in two wooden trays, which are suspended like a pair of scales on either side of a yoke thrown over the shoulders. _dondulmagis_ or ice-cream vendors, who also carry their burden over the shoulders, one side containing the ice-cream box wrapped in folds and folds of snow-white sheeting, and the other a polished brass receptacle for spoons, cups, and saucers, and water to wash them after use. a brazier with live coal may also be seen, on which heads of indian corn are roasted, and greedily munched by the purchasers. _hoshaf_ and _sherbet_, or syrup vendors, are also there, with a stand for bottles and glasses, and an ingenious contrivance for revolving, by means of dropping water, a small wheel or paddle, the flaps of which strike against a glass and produce a merry jingling sound which draws attention. the charm of this concourse of people is the primitive orderly enjoyment of outdoor life, without the disgraceful accompaniments of drunkenness. chapter x the faith of islam a peep at turkey cannot be complete without a passing reference to the religious beliefs of its people, but space will only allow me to mention those of mahomedans. broadly speaking, without counting arabia, there are 13,000,000 mahomedans or moslems, as they are also called; 12,000,000 christians; and 1,000,000 jews and members of other persuasions. in asiatic turkey, mahomedans form the majority, but only the minority in european turkey. moslems are the followers of mahomet, who was born in mecca, arabia, in the year 569 of our era, and declared himself to be the prophet of god, sent to introduce a fuller revelation of him, which was to supersede judaism and christianity. the koran, which was the great book of his faith, was declared to have been revealed to him by the archangel gabriel. the koran claims to be the completion of the law and the gospel, and it proclaims mahomet to be the last and greatest of the line of prophets, among whom is included jesus christ, but whose divinity is denied. [illustration: interior of the mosque of sultan ahmed i.] the new faith, which received the name of islam, implying submission to god, was a protest against the heathenish practices of his countrymen in arabia, and the worship of the saints and the virgin mary among the christians. the corner-stone was the unity of god, and its leading dogma was expressed in the formula, "_la illah il allah_" ("there is no god but god"), to which was added, "_mohamet resoul allah_" ("mahomet is the prophet of god"). in addition to the unity of god, moslems believe in the existence of good and evil spirits, in the efficacy of prayer, and in a future life with its rewards or punishments. prayer with them is homage which the worshippers are required to offer five times a day, according to a fixed ritual, with prescribed genuflections, prostrations, and touching of the ground with the forehead. when the hour of prayer arrives they will suspend their occupations, spread a rug facing mecca, and pray wherever they happen to be, shaming christians by their disregard of ridicule. the summons to pray or to attend the mosque is made by the _muezzim_ or crier, who ascends the minaret or tower, attached to the mosque (see frontispiece), and from its balcony proclaims the unity of god, and invites believers to prayer, as follows: "come to prayers, come to prayers. god is great. there is no god but god." to which, at dawn of day, the exhortation is added: "prayer is better than sleep, prayer is better than sleep." before prayer turks wash their hands, feet, and faces, and remove the shoes from off their feet. lines of fountains are found outside the mosques for these ablutions. the head of the worshipper remains covered. among the observances enjoined upon moslems are those of charity, fasting, and pilgrimage. they are bidden to lay aside one-tenth of their income for religious or charitable purposes. their fasting takes place during the holy month of ramazan, and lasts from morning twilight to sunset. abstinence from food, drink, and smoking must be total. at sunset a gun announces that the day is over, and feasting commences and lasts all night. the day is thus transformed to night, and the night to day. the pilgrimage enjoined is to mecca, and has to be performed by every moslem at least once in his lifetime, either in person or by proxy. he then acquires the title of _hadji_, or pilgrim, which he prefixes to his name. the shrine or temple visited at mecca is called the _caaba_, and tradition records that it was there hagar discovered the well zem zem, which saved ishmael's life, and that the latter, assisted by abraham, built a tabernacle. an angel brought the corner-stone, which all pilgrims go and kiss. it was originally of crystalline whiteness, but is now coal-black, owing to its absorption of the sins of worshipping pilgrims. on the day of judgment it will testify in favour of those who kissed it, whether men or women. the first mosque was built by mahomet in medina, and was of a very simple structure. but as his successors grew wealthier and more powerful, they vied with one another in the magnificence of the buildings erected for god's worship. they were more or less on the model of the greek churches around them, lofty, and surmounted with a circular dome imitating the canopy of the sky. the dome is covered with lead and on the spike that crowns it is a gilt crescent. the apex of each minaret is also covered with lead and tipped with gold. the dome and the minarets standing side by side remind one of the umbrella pine-tree and the cypress--so characteristic of an eastern landscape. the interior of a mosque is a mixture of simplicity and grandeur. the dome is supported by columns, which, in the case of the mosque of sultan achmet, represented in the illustration facing this chapter, are inlaid with coloured tiles, and decorated with verses from the koran. the sunlight streams in from the numerous windows encircling the dome, or from those on the walls of the mosque, many of which are of beautiful stained glass, but without figures of any kind, as moslems consider this would be breaking the commandment relating to images. all mosques point toward mecca, and at the mecca end stands a _mihrab_, or niche, from which the _imam_ conducts the devotions. beside it, supported by pillars, is a terrace for the choir, which consists entirely of men. they chant, seated cross-legged on rugs. south of the _mihrab_ is the _minber_, or pulpit, from which prayers and addresses are delivered on fridays. the pulpit in sultan achmet's mosque (see illustration) is a masterpiece in marble, and a copy of that in mecca. stands for korans, shaped like the letter x, and inlaid with tortoiseshell and mother-of-pearl, are placed about the building for public reading, and from the roof hang chandeliers on which are attached numerous lamps fed with olive oil. interspersed among the lamps are ostrich-eggs and glass-ball ornaments. mosques are not seated, but mats and carpets are laid on the stone floor for the use of the faithful. "the luxurious inhabitant of the east, who in his _selamlik_ is wont to recline on cushions, does not pass into the house of god to tenant a crimson-lined and well-padded pew; he takes his place among the crowd--the _effendi_ stands beside the water-carrier, the _bey_ near the charcoal-vendor--he is but one item among many; he arrogates to himself no honour in the temple where all men are as one family." there is a mistaken idea that moslems consider that women have no souls, and need not perform devotions. the koran is explicit to the contrary. they may not worship in the mosques with the men, but groups of them are met, worshipping apart, and during the ramazan special services are held for women. among the various orders of dervishes, or moslem monks, are those of the ruffai order, or howlers, illustrated in chapter xi. they are the most fanatical, and meet in a rectangular building to perform their devotions, the idea being to produce such an ecstasy of the soul as will separate it from the body and enable it to contemplate god. their sheik, or chief, takes his seat on a carpet, while his followers sit in front of him and repeat passages from the koran. they then stand and repeat their formula of faith, "_la illah_," etc., bending forward and backward at each syllable. this recital, which is at first slow, becomes more and more rapid, until you can only distinguish the syllables _il_ and _lah_. the sheik then stamps his foot, and the dervishes, growing frantic, quicken their swinging motion, shouting _lah_, and interposing every now and then the exclamation _hu yia hu_, implying "he, o he" (is god). the ninety-nine names or attributes of god are then recited, while the sheik counts the ninety-nine beads of his chaplet. when the last bead is reached their fury knows no bounds, and, holding each other's hands in a circle, they swing forwards and backwards until they foam at the mouth, and, falling exhausted to the ground, lie in an apparent trance. this they claim to be spiritual ecstasy! another sect, the mevlevis, find this ecstasy in whirling until they sink exhausted. the third order the bektashis, who are the most tolerant, maintain that the contemplation of god can be best attained by their carrying out their motto, "keep thy tongue, thy hand, and thy heart," and by the observance of his precepts. chapter xi games the turk is too indolent by nature to care for any sports requiring physical exertion, and he would rather be a spectator than take an active part in them. there is, besides, a feeling among those that have reached the age of manhood, especially if they are holding some government office, that their dignity would be lowered if they were seen engaged at play. a very interesting and pretty sport is the _djirat_. two companies of horsemen, armed with muffled lances, or in some places the stalks of palm-leaves, give each other chase. the pursuers hurl their missiles when at full speed, and those assailed endeavour to avoid the stroke or to capture the weapon. watching ram-fights is a favourite recreation, and crowds gather round the village green to witness these huge creatures, with their long crumpled horns, dashing at each other at full speed. their heads strike with a resounding thud, and you expect that a skull or two will be broken, but no, it is only fun, and the rams caper gracefully back, to return again to the charge. cock-fights are likewise in repute, and in cyprus a spur is grafted on to the crest of the bird, giving it the appearance of a sort of winged unicorn. professional wrestling is much enjoyed. the two contending parties or _pehlivans_, as they are called, are frequently a negro and a white man; their attire is nothing but a leather pair of drawers. their bodies are smeared over and made slippery with abundance of olive-oil. the struggle commences by their measuring distances and touching each other's shoulders; then they manoeuvre about and dodge each other, and finally come to grips, until the stronger forces his opponent to the ground. turkish wrestlers are so celebrated that they often find their way to this country. another entertainment is the "shadow pantomime." this performance consists in throwing shadows of little cardboard figures against a curtain, on the other side of which the spectators are seated. the exhibitors, carefully hidden from sight, work their marionettes with strings and wires, and are clever in making them move and bow, strike each other, and perform all sorts of feats and somersaults, while a ventriloquist makes them carry on the most animated conversation. horse-racing is seldom indulged in in turkey, except among european residents. an effort made several years ago to introduce racing failed, because, it is alleged, foreign jockeys dared to allow their horses to beat the sultan's stud. occasionally, however, turks get up children's races; they strap the youngsters to the saddle, give them the reins, and speed the horses off with a tremendous swipe. fox-hunting is not only unheard of, but is prohibited as cruel, and a spanish bull-fight was attempted last year for the first time, only on the understanding that no blood would be shed. football has recently come somewhat into fashion, but it is only occasionally that the real game is played. departure from rule is preferred to its observance, and often the game consists of mere kicking of the ball from one to another. this is done with great swagger and conceit, but without any of the true sporting dash. tennis is played to some extent, and bicycling is fairly popular, but principally because it allows the rider to show off. there are some keen sportsmen among the turks; and hunting the wild boar offers lively sport coupled with a zest of danger, as these savage animals, if not killed outright, often turn and rip their assailants with their powerful tusks. the "gentle art" of fishing is largely indulged in as a recreation, and the bosphorus yields excellent sport. the favourite fishing there is that of the _lufer_, which weighs from 1 to 3 pounds, and is caught by night, with bright lamps throwing down a beam of light from the boat into the water. a peculiar hook, soldered to a sinker, which is brightened with mercury, is used. gourmet fishers often take a brazier, with live coals, in the boat, and grill and eat the fish as soon as it is secured. [illustration: a howling dervish.] chess--that most antiquated of games--is known under the name of _satrach_, and differs somewhat from our own, but is as highly scientific. however sceptical we may be about the story in the "arabian nights" of the monkey which played chess with a grand vizier, i can vouch for the accuracy of one regarding an armenian banker who played it with sultan aziz. the stakes were properties belonging to the crown, and so successful was the banker that, finally, his landed possessions extended from the bosphorus to the black sea. backgammon is a favourite game; draughts differs slightly from our own, and there is a peculiar form of it played with pebbles, on a checkered board traced on a stone. cards are played to some extent, but as gambling and games of chance are forbidden by the koran, cards are looked upon with suspicion, and their use discouraged. so also is betting, which ensnares young and old in our own country. among games for boys i may mention top-spinning. turkish tops are made from hard wood, turned in a lathe, and painted with bands of various colours. they are spun with the thumb and the finger, or with a string, and then kept in motion with a whip and cord. a point in the game is to direct the top so that it should bump against the opponent's, and topple it over. kite-flying is popular, and in early spring hundreds of kites may be seen flying from the terraces over the house-tops. they are shaped like our own, and are made with bright-coloured paper, with long tails of paper strips. little splints of wood or cane are attached to the tail for the purpose of entangling and capturing other kites. this is done by manoeuvring them about, letting them drop momentarily or rise suddenly, so as to swoop over their adversary and capture it. when these air-ships have boarded, both the fliers pull in the string as rapidly as possible, and it sometimes happens that the vanquished kite is after all the victor. hop-scotch is as ancient as the hills, and is played in turkey in much the same way as with us. so also are marbles and tip-cat, with the same risks, in the case of tip-cat, to the eyes of beholders as in this country. walnuts enter largely into the composition of boys' games. one of these consists in rolling them down a sloping board, each boy playing in turn. the person who hits any of the nuts on the floor appropriates all he can gather. the game goes on, each player retiring when his stock of walnuts is exhausted. another game is that of placing the walnuts in a ring, and throwing (not rolling) other nuts at them from a distance. all displaced walnuts belong to the displacer. knifey, or _bitchak_, as it is called in turkey, is popular among girls as well as boys. they sit in a circle on the village green, and, placing an open pocket-knife on the back of their hand, throw it up in the air so that it shall on descending stick in the ground. knuckle-bones is allied to the above, and is played with five bones, as with us, and with much the same variations. _pendavola_, or five pebbles, is the greek name of knuckle-bones, when played with stones instead of bones. both the above games date back to remote antiquity, and exist in some form with every nation. a practice indulged in by boys and young men is that of bird-catching by means of nets, snares, or bird-lime twigs. in autumn, when nature shows the first hectic flushes of decay, and birds know that winter will soon be upon them, innumerable flocks traverse the regions around constantinople on their way south. quails arrive by scores of thousands, and, exhausted with their flight over the black sea, they alight near the mouth of the bosphorus, and are easily caught in nets, and served on the tables of even the poorest inhabitants. smaller birds also, such as bullfinches, goldfinches, and other finches, linnets and the like, are on the wing, and to secure them bird-lime twigs are placed on an isolated tree, or one improvised for the occasion, and a booth is constructed near it, in which boys hide and watch unobserved. some half-dozen birds of various kinds are tied by the leg to a long string, one end of which is held by the occupants of the booth, and when a flock of birds is seen in the air these decoys are made to rise. their chirping attracts the attention of the birds overhead, and, alighting on the tree, the great majority are glued to the twigs. the best are put in cages and sold as song-birds; the remainder are killed, and strung with twine through their bills, they are sold for food. roasted and mixed with _pillaf_, the national rice dish, they are most savoury. in contrast to this inhospitable reception of nature's winged songsters while travelling through the land, it it pleasant to visit the bird-market, and there see venerable turks opening their purses and buying as many of these captives as they can afford. they then throw open the prison-doors, and as the birds fly skyward with chirps of delight, the faces of the liberators grow radiant with satisfaction. my list of games and sports is by no means exhausted, but i must close it by referring to stone-throwing, which, although not exactly a game, is in universal practice among boys, and even girls. to such an extent is it carried that dogs attacking you will often disregard a stick, but, remembering their sad experiences with stones, will take to their heels when you stoop to pick up one. the writer himself still carries a lively impression of a fight carried on with these missiles. the scene of this skirmish, which took place when he was a boy, was near the seashore of a village on the bosphorus, where he and one or two english boys met a squad of turkish children. the latter took refuge behind a row of turkish houses, and stones were thrown by both parties over the roofs. they fell fast and thick from the unseen foe, until at last one, doubtless thrown "at a venture," hit the writer on the head, and made the impression already referred to. chapter xii dogs everybody has heard of turkish dogs, and i am sure you will consider this book incomplete if i pass them over in silence. their origin is shrouded in mystery, but naturalists would probably find them allied to the wolf and the jackal. tradition, however, has it that they originated in tartary, and followed the mongolians and turks across the steppes, gorging themselves on the carnage of a thousand battle-fields, and finally settling down with the conquerors. how much truth there is in this gruesome legend it is impossible to say, but the fact remains that wherever the turk is found, there, too, the ubiquitous _kiopek_, or _skilo_, is seen. nor does it seem to exist north of vienna--that outermost ring of turkish invasion. dogs, very like _skilos_, are to be met in hungary; you have no doubt of their existence when you cross the danube into servia; they are numerous in bulgaria, and you fall into the thick of them when you reach constantinople, where until recently they were supposed to number 80,000. in size and appearance they resemble the short-haired scotch collie, but without the sharpness of nose, and their ears are shorter. with all the instincts of the nomad--unkempt, unkept, and owning no master--their home is the street, where they are born and die, a boon and a bane to mankind. they are the former because they are the scavengers--sometimes the only scavengers--that clean the streets of the refuse thrown into them, and which would otherwise putrefy and breed disease. they are the latter because they collect at night over refuse-heaps, and fight, bark, and yell over the disputed possession of coveted morsels. their noise disturbs your slumbers and irritates your nerves. then, lying as they do in the street, you might in the darkness stumble against one, and experience in return something hard and sharp, which would send you howling in your turn. but _skilos_ do not thrive on refuse alone; they hang about butchers' shops, and are plentiful near the sultan's palace-kitchens and soldiers' barracks, where remains of food are dispensed to them. at the ministry of war, in stamboul, a special man is employed to give them fragments of the soldiers' bread. these he carries in a capacious hamper on his back, and, holding a thick stick in his hand, he proceeds to the public square, where hundreds of dogs await and surround him. his first action is to clear a wide circle with his stick around him, and then he suddenly empties the contents of his hamper. a rush and charge of _skilos_ follows. they tumble over one another in that hissing sea of dogs, but do not seem to mind, provided they can seize a fragment of bread and bolt away. there is strategy, however, even in dogdom, and some, more cunning and fleet-footed than others, do not join in the scrimmage, but quietly await the result at some point of vantage, and, spotting any dog that retires laden with spoil, pursue it, and snatch away its prize. yet, with all their habits of the tramp, they seem imbued with a sense of order, and come to an agreement among themselves as to what streets groups of them are to occupy. woe to the dog that dares to overstep the assigned boundaries. on one condition alone is he allowed to cross through another district--that of lowering his flag--_i.e._, that he puts his tail under his legs, keeps his head submissively low, and walks in the middle of the street, while all the dogs of the quarter rend the air with their barking. you must not conclude from what precedes that _skilos_ are devoid of finer feelings and even chivalry. the following incident, related by a friend, regarding one with which i was acquainted, proves the contrary. when a pup, carabash (black head), as he was called, was picked up in the street, and coddled in a comfortable home. on growing up, he was provided with a kennel in the garden. one frosty morning, when the snow was lying thick on the ground, carabash was discovered sleeping outside the kennel, which he had surrendered to an emaciated bitch. the intruder was driven away, but next morning was again found in occupancy, and was gruffly expelled. carabash seemed vexed, and refused to eat his food. on the third morning the strange dog was again found in the kennel, and was this time thrashed out of the premises. she went, like eve from paradise, but her adam followed, took up his residence with her under the shelter of an old tombstone in the turkish cemetery, and never again returned to his comfortable home. their descendants live in the cemetery to this day. such romantic incidents would doubtless have met with recognition on behalf of the whole race of dogs in the days of haroun-al-raschid, or other heroes of the "arabian nights," but the young turkey party of to-day are not to be moved by such considerations. they are practical men, and, desiring to cleanse the streets of constantinople of a recognized nuisance, they decreed the extermination of _skilos_. but, taking into consideration the moslem abhorrence of taking away animal life, a curious compromise was made. they were to be banished to a large enclosure at the city walls. a special forceps was invented for the purpose of trapping them, and at dead of night municipal officers gripped the sleeping dogs by the neck or the body, and pitched them into a cart, which conveyed them to their so-called "hotel." terrible fights occurred there between dogs already in residency and new arrivals, but it frequently happened that kind-hearted turks waylaid the carts and liberated the captives. within their enclosure the dogs were fed and received water at the expense of the state, a grant of â£5,000 a year having been voted in parliament for their maintenance; but soon the space allotted them proved inadequate, and their cries and smells became so horrible that it was decided to move them to another locality. a little uninhabited island, called oxya, about fifteen miles from the city, was selected for the purpose, and 30,000 were transported to it. but the island had no water, and the supply of bread was difficult and irregular, and the result was that six months after their transportation only one solitary dog, of which i have the photograph, survived to tell the tale. discouraged by their want of success, government has, i understand, now given up the attempt to exterminate the _skilos_, and any of my readers who happen to visit constantinople will probably have the pleasure of forming their acquaintance. chapter xiii the galata bridge and the bazaars an attempt has been made in these pages to conduct the reader over the domains of the sultan of turkey, and to introduce him to some of his subjects, but there is perhaps no better place in the world for getting a panoramic view of the various races depicted than on the bridge which spans the golden horn, and joins stamboul with the galata quarter of constantinople (see frontispiece). nor can you find the various products of the empire exhibited within a more suitable compass than in the bazaars of stamboul. it is computed that no less than twenty million persons pass over the bridge in the course of a year--_i.e._, about 50,000 daily. the races there represented are too numerous to mention. each wears its distinctive dress, and foot and head gear, and the contrast of design and colour is wonderful, and not limited to women, as in a european crowd. here comes an albanian in white petticoats and crimson sash bristling with pistols; there goes an embassy _cavass_ resplendent in scarlet; there is an _ulema_, or high ecclesiastic, with green turban and flowing robes of white, and another dressed in magenta and a white turban; soldiers in khaki or in pale blue come next, and young turk officers all spick and span in new uniforms. a whirling dervish, with tall, conical, brown head-dress then moves majestically along, followed by a bedouin, with camel-hair mantle over his shoulders, and silken kerchief over his head. alongside him is an m.p. from arabia, with flowing green coat, and white cap with green turban around it, indicating consanguinity with mahomet. as for representatives of the other sex, you see groups shuffling along in soft yellow boots, and dragging loose overshoes--overshoes which often prove serviceable weapons of attack to any turkish woman who has been insulted. the turkish ladies' dress is frequently bright-coloured, and a white veil is thrown over the head and face, but sometimes the dress itself is used for that purpose. the fashion, however, is prevailing that black should be used, and the women look like silhouettes flitting along. should it happen to be a friday, sounds of military music greet your ear, and you hear the tramp of infantry as the sultan's soldiers march along to line the streets through which he must pass on his way to mosque. nothing can rival the physical appearance, dogged perseverance, and power of endurance of the soldiers streaming before you, and the prancing steeds ridden by the officers excite your admiration. but another sound, less musical, may disturb your ear, and a horde of half-naked savages appear, carrying on poles what you would call a garden-pump, but which is really a fire-engine. a man carrying the hose-nozzle precedes, and as they tear along, shouting "_sagh ol!_" ("clear out"; literally, "keep yourself uninjured!"), you imagine a band of maniacs has been let loose. there is now a regular fire-brigade in constantinople, available where the streets are wide enough to permit its use, but you will not wonder that under the old system conflagrations sometimes destroyed thousands of houses at a time, and still do so in quarters where the streets are too narrow and the houses of wood. ambulating vendors of all sorts are also to be found on the bridge, advertising their goods in loud falsetto notes, or sometimes singing metrical eulogies over them. _hamals_, and porters, too, of every description, are there, conveying their burdens, and turkish sailors, whose duty it is to police the bridge, while at either end are men clad in long white shirts, without pockets, to collect the toll, and not pocket it. and as if to connect the new with the old order of administration, a motorbus, with the words "progres" emblazoned upon it, traverses the bridge with passengers, while british-built steamers moor on pontoons attached to the bridge, and convey travellers to the villages of the bosphorus and other suburbs. crossing the bridge, you arrive at stamboul, the turkish quarter, and enter into a long street, arched over, and with numerous windows. it is called the _missir tcharchi_, or egyptian spice bazaar, owing to the drugs and spices sold in it. it is dark and badly ventilated; its odours overpower you, but you see there a display of drugs and perfumes never dreamt of before, and gathered from all parts of the empire. each shop within the bazaar is known by its special sign--a ship, a broom, a bird's-cage, the model of a mosque, a flag, bows and arrows, and so on--while its occupant sits, like a spider in his den, inviting you into his parlour. among the articles offered are musk and seraglio pastilles, frankincense, cedar-wood, and other perfume-emitting substances which turks delight in throwing on the brazier to scent their apartments; otto of roses, produced in bulgaria, rose-water, patchuli, jessamine, and other native fragrant oils, with which to perfume their person. rouge, native hair-dyes, and henna for improving the complexion, painting the eyebrows until they meet, or staining the nails and finger-tips; corrosive sublimate, that deadly poison, for giving a flash to the eye; red and black pepper, and all sorts of condiments; seeds of the "love-in-the-mist" to protect _yiaourt_ and pastry from the evil-eye; gum mastic from the island of chio, which women love to chew and chew for hours, and children to blow into bubbles; herbal and quack medicines of all kinds, and even gall-stones from an ass to renew the vigour of youth. nearer the sea are several streets, roofed with glass, called the _yemish_, or fruit-bazaar, where dried fruits and nuts of every description are to be found. among its peculiarities are fruit-pastes of plum, apricot, quince, mulberry, etc., which have been mashed, sun-dried, and rolled into thin long sheets; grape-juice, thickened with flour; unfermented grape-treacle; and honey from angora, unrivalled for the whiteness of its comb. the wood-turners' bazaar gives you an insight into the native method of turning, which is performed with a bow in one hand and a chisel in the other, while the big toe supplies a third hand for holding the object in position. the brass-turners' bazaar provides you with _samovars_, or special brass urns, for boiling water and preparing tea, and _mangals_, or braziers, for holding ignited charcoal to warm houses. the main bazaars consist of a labyrinth of streets and alleys, arched over with masonry, and pierced with numerous domes from which the light enters. they extend over a surface of more than a mile, and their windings are so intricate that a traveller may easily lose his way. articles of every description, new and old, may be found there. whole streets, for instance, are reserved for boots, shoes, and slippers of all kinds, shapes, and colours: soft yellow ones for turkish women; patent-leather ones, with overshoes, for men; red shoes with turned-up points for anatolians; sandals for albanians; parisian ones for those dressed _ã  la franã§aise_; slippers of softest native tanned leather; slippers embroidered with seed-pearls and jewels, etc. another street is reserved for silks from brusa, damascus, syria, etc., another for pipes, hubble-bubbles, amber mouthpieces etc. another, styled manchester street, is stocked with cotton prints, of flashy colours and designs, made specially for the east. in the heart of the bazaar is the _bezesten_, an inner bazaar, with gorgeous carpets from all parts of the land, diamonds, pearls, turquoises, and all manner of precious stones; old armour, antiquities, curios, and relics of all kinds. but the _muezzim's_ cry now reverberates through the bazaar; the sun is setting, and the gates are to be closed. you rise to depart, but the crowds, the sights, the colours, the noises, the smells, the various costumes around--these will be there on the morrow as they have been in the past, and they will still in the future allure and charm all those who come in contact with the bewitching east. billing and sons, ltd., printers, guildford * * * * * list of volumes in the peeps at many lands and cities series each containing 12 full-page illustrations in colour belgium burma canada ceylon china corsica denmark edinburgh egypt england finland france germany greece holland holy land iceland india ireland italy jamaica japan korea morocco new zealand norway paris portugal russia scotland siam south africa south seas spain switzerland a larger volume in the same style the world containing 37 full-page illustrations in colour published by adam and charles black soho square, london, w. agents america the macmillan company 64 & 66 fifth avenue,, new york australasia oxford university press 205 flinders lane, melbourne canada the macmillan company of canada, ltd. st. martin's house, 70 bond street, toronto india macmillan & company, ltd. macmillan building, bombay 309 bow bazaar street, calcutta the balkan wars 1912-1913 by jacob gould schurman princeton university press princeton london: humphrey milford oxford university press 1914 copyright, june 1914, december 1914, by princeton university press second edition published december, 1914 {v} preface to the second edition the interest in the balkan wars of 1912-1913 has exceeded the expectations of the publishers of this volume. the first edition, which was published five months ago, is already exhausted and a second is now called for. meanwhile there has broken out and is now in progress a war which is generally regarded as the greatest of all time--a war already involving five of the six great powers and three of the smaller nations of europe as well as japan and turkey and likely at any time to embroil other countries in europe, asia, and africa, which are already embraced in the area of military operations. this war of many nations had its origin in the balkan situation. it began on july 28 with the declaration of the dual monarchy {vi} to the effect that from that moment austria-hungary was in a state of war with servia. and the fundamental reason for this declaration as given in the note or ultimatum to servia was the charge that the servian authorities had encouraged the pan-serb agitation which seriously menaced the integrity of austria-hungary and had already caused the assassination at sarajevo of the heir to the throne. no one could have observed at close range the balkan wars of 1912-1913 without perceiving, always in the background and occasionally in the foreground, the colossal rival figures of russia and austria-hungary. attention was called to the phenomenon at various points in this volume and especially in the concluding pages. the issue of the balkan struggles of 1912-1913 was undoubtedly favorable to russia. by her constant diplomatic support she retained the friendship and earned the gratitude of greece, montenegro, and servia; and through her {vii} championship, belated though it was, of the claims of roumania to territorial compensation for benevolent neutrality during the war of the allies against turkey, she won the friendship of the predominant balkan power which had hitherto been regarded as the immovable eastern outpost of the triple alliance. but while russia was victorious she did not gain all that she had planned and hoped for. her very triumph at bukarest was a proof that she had lost her influence over bulgaria. this slav state after the war against turkey came under the influence of austria-hungary, by whom she was undoubtedly incited to strife with servia and her other partners in the late war against turkey. russia was unable to prevent the second balkan war between the allies. the czar's summons to the kings of bulgaria and servia on june 9, 1913, to submit, in the name of pan-slavism, their disputes to his decision failed to produce the desired effect, while this assumption of russian hegemony in balkan affairs greatly {viii} exacerbated austro-hungarian sentiment. that action of the czar, however, was clear notification and proof to all the world that russia regarded the slav states in the balkans as objects of her peculiar concern and protection. the first balkan war--the war of the allies against turkey--ended in a way that surprised all the world. everybody expected a victory for the turks. that the turks should one day be driven out of europe was the universal assumption, but it was the equally fixed belief that the agents of their expulsion would be the great powers or some of the great powers. that the little independent states of the balkans should themselves be equal to the task no one imagined,--no one with the possible exception of the government of russia. and as russia rejoiced over the victory of the balkan states and the defeat of her secular mohammedan neighbor, austria-hungary looked on not only with amazement but with disappointment and chagrin. {ix} for the contemporaneous diplomacy of the austro-hungarian government was based on the assumption that the balkan states would be vanquished by turkey. and its standing policy had been on the one hand to keep the kingdom of servia small and weak (for the dual monarchy was itself an important serb state) and on the other hand to broaden her adriatic possessions and also to make her way through novi bazar and macedonia to saloniki and the aegean, when the time came to secure this concession from the sultan without provoking a european war. it seemed in 1908 as though the favorable moment had arrived to make a first move, and the austro-hungarian government put forward a project for connecting the bosnian and macedonian railway systems. but the only result was to bring to an end the co-operation which had for some years been maintained between the austrian and russian governments in the enforcement upon the porte of the adoption of reforms in macedonia. {x} and now the result of the balkan wars of 1912-1913 was the practical expulsion of turkey from europe and the territorial aggrandizement of servia and the sister state of montenegro through the annexation of those very turkish domains which lay between the austro-hungarian frontier and the aegean. at every point austro-hungarian policies had met with reverses. only one success could possibly be attributed to the diplomacy of the ballplatz. the exclusion of servia from the adriatic sea and the establishment of the independent state of albania was the achievement of count berchtold, the austro-hungarian minister of foreign affairs. the new state has been a powder magazine from the beginning, and since the withdrawal of prince william of wied, the government, always powerless, has fallen into chaos. intervention on the part of neighboring states is inevitable. and only last month the southern part of albania--that is, northern {xi} epirus--was occupied by a greek army for the purpose of ending the sanguinary anarchy which has hitherto prevailed. this action will be no surprise to the readers of this volume. the occupation, or rather re-occupation, is declared by the greek government to be provisional and it is apparently approved by all the great powers. throughout the rest of albania similar intervention will be necessary to establish order, and to protect the life and property of the inhabitants without distinction of race, tribe, or creed. servia might perhaps have governed the country, had she not been compelled by the great powers, at the instigation of austria-hungary, to withdraw her forces. and her extrusion from the adriatic threw her back toward the aegean, with the result of shutting bulgaria out of central macedonia, which was annexed by greece and servia presumably under arrangements satisfactory to the latter for an outlet to the sea at saloniki. the war declared by austria-hungary {xii} against servia may be regarded to some extent as an effort to nullify in the interests of the former the enormous advantages which accrued directly to servia and indirectly to russia from the balkan wars of 1912-1913. that russia should have come to the support of servia was as easy to foresee as any future political event whatever. and the action of germany and france once war had broken out between their respective allies followed as a matter of course. if the austro-german alliance wins in the war of many nations it will doubtless control the eastern adriatic and open up a way for itself to the aegean. indeed, in that event, german trade and german political influence would spread unchallenged across the continents from the north sea to the persian gulf and the indian ocean. turkey is a friend and ally; but even if turkey were hostile she would have no strength to resist such victorious powers. and the balkan states, with the defeat of russia, would be compelled to recognize germanic supremacy. {xiii} if on the other hand the allies come out victorious in the war of many nations, servia and perhaps roumania would be permitted to annex the provinces occupied by their brethren in the dual monarchy and servian expansion to the adriatic would be assured. the balkan states would almost inevitably fall under the controlling influence of russia, who would become mistress of constantinople and gain an unrestricted outlet to the mediterranean through the bosphorus, the sea of marmora, and the dardanelles. in spite of themselves the destiny of the peoples of the balkans is once more set on the issue of war. it is not inconceivable, therefore, that some or all of those states may be drawn into the present colossal conflict. in 1912-1913 the first war showed bulgaria, greece, montenegro, and servia allied against turkey; and in the second war greece, montenegro, and servia were joined by roumania in the war against bulgaria, who was also independently attacked {xiv} by turkey. what may happen in 1914 or 1915 no one can predict. but if this terrible conflagration, which is already devastating europe and convulsing all the continents and vexing all the oceans of the globe, spreads to the balkans, one may hazard the guess that greece, montenegro, servia, and roumania will stand together on the side of the allies and that bulgaria if she is not carried away by marked austro-german victories will remain neutral,--unless indeed the other balkan states win her over, as they not inconceivably might do, if they rose to the heights of unwonted statesmanship by recognizing her claim to that part of macedonia in which the bulgarian element predominates but which was ceded to her rivals by the treaty of bukarest. but i have said enough to indicate that as in its origin so also in its results this awful cataclysm under which the civilized world is now reeling will be found to be vitally connected with the balkan wars of 1912-1913. and i conclude {xv} with the hope that the present volume, which devotes indeed but little space to military matters and none at all to atrocities and massacres, may prove helpful to readers who seek light on the underlying conditions, the causes, and the consequences of those historic struggles. the favor already accorded to the work and the rapid exhaustion of the first edition* seem to furnish some justification of this hope. jacob gould schurman. _november 26, 1914._ *the present work is rather a reprint than a new edition, few changes having been made except the correction of typographical errors. {1} i turkey and the balkan states [illustration: map: the balkan peninsula before the wars of 1912-1913.] {3} i turkey and the balkan states the expulsion of the turks from europe was long ago written in the book of fate. there was nothing uncertain about it except the date and the agency of destiny. the turkish empire in europe a little clan of oriental shepherds, the turks had in two generations gained possession of the whole of the northwest corner of asia minor and established themselves on the eastern shore of the bosphorus. the great city of brusa, whose groves to-day enshrine the stately beauty of their mosques and sultans' tombs, capitulated to orkhan, the son of the first sultan, in 1326; and nicaea, the cradle of the greek church and temporary capital of the greek empire, {4} surrendered in 1330. on the other side of the bosphorus orkhan could see the domes and palaces of constantinople which, however, for another century was to remain the seat of the byzantine empire. the turks crossed the hellespont and, favored by an earthquake, marched in 1358 over the fallen walls and fortifications into the city of gallipoli. in 1361 adrianople succumbed to the attacks of orkhan's son, murad i, whose sway was soon acknowledged in thrace and macedonia, and who was destined to lead the victorious ottoman armies as far north as the danube. but though the provinces of the corrupt and effete byzantine empire were falling into the hands of the turks, the slavs were still unsubdued. lazar the serb threw down the gauntlet to murad. on the memorable field of kossovo, in 1389, the opposing forces met--murad supported by his asiatic and european vassals and allies, and lazar with his formidable army of {5} serbs, bosnians, albanians, poles, magyars, and vlachs. few battles in the world have produced such a deep and lasting impression as this battle of kossovo, in which the christian nations after long and stubborn resistance were vanquished by the moslems. the servians still sing ballads which cast a halo of pathetic romance round their great disaster. and after more than five centuries the montenegrins continue to wear black on their caps in mourning for that fatal day. in the next two centuries the ottoman empire moved on toward the zenith of its glory. mohammed ii conquered constantinople in 1453. and in 1529 suleyman the magnificent was at the gates of vienna. suleyman's reign forms the climax of turkish history. the turks had become a central european power occupying hungary and menacing austria. suleyman's dominions extended from mecca to buda-pesth and from bagdad to algiers. he commanded the mediterranean, the euxine, {6} and the red sea, and his navies threatened the coasts of india and spain. but the conquests of the turks were purely military. they did nothing for their subjects, whom they treated with contempt, and they wanted nothing from them but tribute and plunder. as the turks were always numerically inferior to the aggregate number of the peoples under their sway, their one standing policy was to keep them divided--_divide et impera_. to fan racial and religious differences among their subjects was to perpetuate the rule of the masters. the whole task of government, as the turks conceived it, was to collect tribute from the conquered and keep them in subjection by playing off their differences against one another. but a deterioration of turkish rulers set in soon after the time of suleyman with a corresponding decline in the character and efficiency of the army. and the growth of russia and the reassertion of hungary, poland, and austria {7} were fatal to the maintenance of an alien and detested empire founded on military domination alone. by the end of the seventeenth century the turks had been driven out of austria, hungary, transylvania, and podolia, and the northern boundaries of their empire were fixed by the carpathians, the danube, and the save. how marked and rapid was the further decline of the ottoman empire may be inferred from the fact that twice in the eighteenth century austria and russia discussed the project of dividing it between them. but the inevitable disintegration of the turkish dominion was not to inure to the glorification of any of the great powers, though russia certainly contributed to the weakening of the common enemy. the decline and diminution of the ottoman empire continued throughout the nineteenth century. what happened, however, was the revolt of subject provinces and the creation out of the territory of european turkey of the independent states of greece, servia, {8} roumania, and bulgaria. and it was bulgarians, greeks, and servians, with the active assistance of the montenegrins and the benevolent neutrality of the roumanians, who, in the war of 1912-1913, drove the turk out of europe, leaving him nothing but the city of constantinople and a territorial fringe bordered by the chataldja line of fortifications. the earlier slav empires there is historic justice in the circumstance that the turkish empire in europe met its doom at the hands of the balkan nations themselves. for these nationalities had been completely submerged and even their national consciousness annihilated under centuries of moslem intolerance, misgovernment, oppression, and cruelty. none suffered worse than bulgaria, which lay nearest to the capital of the mohammedan conqueror. yet bulgaria had had a glorious, if checkered, history long before there existed {9} any ottoman empire either in europe or in asia. from the day their sovereign boris accepted christianity in 864 the bulgarians had made rapid and conspicuous progress in their ceaseless conflicts with the byzantine empire. the bulgarian church was recognized as independent by the greek patriarch at constantinople; its primates subsequently received the title of patriarch, and their see was established at preslav, and then successively westward at sofia, vodena, presba, and finally ochrida, which looks out on the mountains of albania. under czar simeon, the son of boris, "bulgaria," says gibbon, "assumed a rank among the civilized powers of the earth." his dominions extended from the black sea to the adriatic and comprised the greater part of macedonia, greece, albania, servia, and dalmatia; leaving only to the byzantine empire--whose civilization he introduced and sedulously promoted among the bulgarians--the cities of constantinople, saloniki, and adrianople with {10} the territory immediately surrounding them. but this first bulgarian empire was short-lived, though the western part remained independent under samuel, who reigned, with ochrida as his capital, from 976 to 1014. four years later the byzantine emperor, basil ii, annihilated the power of samuel, and for a hundred and fifty years the bulgarian people remained subject to the rule of constantinople. in 1186 under the leadership of the brothers asen they regained their independence. and the reign of czar asen ii (1218-1240) was the most prosperous period of all bulgarian history. he restored the empire of simeon, his boast being that he had left to the byzantines nothing but constantinople and the cities round it, and he encouraged commerce, cultivated arts and letters, founded and endowed churches and monasteries, and embellished his capital, trnovo, with beautiful and magnificent buildings. after asen came a period of decline culminating in a humiliating defeat by the servians {11} in 1330. the quarrels of the christian races of the balkans facilitated the advance of the moslem invader, who overwhelmed the serbs and their allies on the memorable field of kossovo in 1389, and four years later captured and burned the bulgarian capital, trnovo, czar shishman himself perishing obscurely in the common destruction. for five centuries bulgaria remained under moslem despotism, we ourselves being the witnesses of her emancipation in the last thirty-five years. the fate of the serbs differed only in degree from that of the bulgarians. converted to christianity in the middle of the ninth century, the major portion of the race remained till the twelfth century under either bulgarian or byzantine sovereignty. but stephen nemanyo brought under his rule herzegovina, montenegro, and part of modern servia and old servia, and on his abdication in 1195 in favor of his son launched a royal dynasty which reigned over the serb people for two centuries. of {12} that line the most distinguished member was stephen dushan, who reigned from 1331 to 1355. he wrested the whole of the balkan peninsula from the byzantine emperor, and took belgrade, bosnia, and herzegovina from the king of hungary. he encouraged literature, gave to his country a highly advanced code of laws, and protected the church whose head--the archbishop of ipek--he raised to the dignity of patriarch. on easter day 1346 he had himself crowned at uskub as "emperor of the greeks and serbs." a few years later he embarked on an enterprise by which, had he been successful, he might have changed the course of european history. it was nothing less than the capture of constantinople and the union of serbs, bulgarians, and greeks into an empire which might defend christendom against the rising power of islam. dushan was within forty miles of his goal with an army of 80,000 men when he died suddenly in camp on the 20th of december, 1355. thirty-four years {13} later dushan's countrymen were annihilated by the turks at kossovo! all the slavonic peoples of the balkan peninsula save the brave mountaineers of montenegro came under moslem subjection. and under moslem subjection they remained till the nineteenth century. turkish oppression of slavs it is impossible to give any adequate description of the horrors of turkish rule in these christian countries of the balkans. their people, disqualified from holding even the smallest office, were absolutely helpless under the oppression of their foreign masters, who ground them down under an intolerable load of taxation and plunder. the culminating cruelty was the tribute of christian children from ten to twelve years of age who were sent to constantinople to recruit the corps of janissaries. it is not surprising that for the protection of their wives and children and the safeguarding of their interests the nobles of bosnia and the {14} pomaks of southeastern bulgaria embraced the creed of their conquerors; the wonder is that the people as a whole remained true to their christian faith even at the cost of daily martyrdom from generation to generation. their fate too grew worse as the turkish power declined after the unsuccessful siege of vienna in 1683. for at first ottoman troops ravaged bulgaria as they marched through the land on their way to austria; and later disbanded soldiers in defiance of turkish authority plundered the country and committed nameless atrocities. servia was to some extent protected by her remote location, but that very circumstance bred insubordination in the janissaries, who refused to obey the local turkish governors and gave themselves up to looting, brigandage, and massacre. the national spirit of the subject races was completely crushed. the servians and bulgarians for three or four centuries lost all consciousness of a fatherland. the countrymen of simeon and dushan became {15} mere hewers of wood and drawers of water for their foreign masters. servia and bulgaria simply disappeared. as late as 1834 kinglake in travelling to constantinople from belgrade must have passed straight across bulgaria. yet in "eothen," in which he describes his travels, he never even mentions that country or its people. it is easy to understand that this history of turkish horrors should have burned itself into the heart and soul of the resurrected servia and bulgaria of our own day. but there is another circumstance connected with the ruthless destruction and long entombment of these nationalities which it is difficult for foreigners, even the most intelligent foreigners, to understand or at any rate to grasp in its full significance. yet the sentiments to which that circumstance has given rise and which it still nourishes are perhaps as potent a factor in contemporary balkan politics as the antipathy of the christian nations to their former moslem oppressors. {16} greek ecclesiastical domination of slavs i refer to the special and exceptional position held by the greeks in the turkish dominions. though the moslems had possessed themselves of the greek empire from the bosphorus to the danube, greek domination still survived as an intellectual, ecclesiastical, and commercial force. the nature and effects of that supremacy, and its results upon the fortunes of other balkan nations, we must now proceed to consider. the turkish government classifies its subjects not on the basis of nationality but on the basis of religion. a homogeneous religious group is designated a millet or nation. thus the moslems form the millet of islam. and at the present time there are among others a greek millet, a catholic millet, and a jewish millet. but from the first days of the ottoman conquest until very recent times all the christian population, irrespective of denominational differences, was assigned by the sultans to the {17} greek millet, of which the patriarch of constantinople was the head. the members of this millet were all called greeks; the bishops and higher clergy were exclusively greek; and the language of their churches and schools was greek, which was also the language of literature, commerce, and polite society. but the jurisdiction of the patriarch was not restricted even to ecclesiastical and educational matters. it extended to a considerable part of civil law--notably to questions of marriage, divorce, and inheritance when they concerned christians only. it is obvious that the possession by the greek patriarch of constantinople of this enormous power over the christian subjects of the turks enabled him to carry on a propaganda of hellenization. the disappearance for three centuries of the national consciousness in servia and bulgaria was not the sole work of the moslem invader; a more fatal blight to the national languages and culture were the greek bishops {18} and clergy who conducted their churches and schools. and if kinglake knew nothing of bulgaria as late as 1834 it was because every educated person in that country called himself a greek. for it cannot be too strongly emphasized that until comparatively recent times all christians of whatever nation or sect were officially recognized by the turks as members of the greek millet and were therefore designated greeks. the hostility of the slavonic peoples in the balkans, and especially of the bulgarians, to the greeks, grows out of the ecclesiastical and educational domination which the greek clergy and bishops so long and so relentlessly exercised over them. of course the turkish sultans are responsible for the arrangement. but there is no evidence that they had any other intention than to rid themselves of a disagreeable task. for the rest they regarded greeks and slavs with equal contempt. but the greeks quickly recognized the racial advantage of their {19} ecclesiastical hegemony. and it was not in human nature to give it up without a struggle. the patriarchate retained its exclusive jurisdiction over all orthodox populations till 1870, when the sultan issued a firman establishing the bulgarian exarchate. there were two other spheres in which greek influence was paramount in the turkish empire. the turk is a soldier and farmer; the greek is pre-eminent as a trader, and his ability secured him a disproportionate share of the trade of the empire. again, the greeks of constantinople and other large cities gradually won the confidence of the turks and attained political importance. during the eighteenth century the highest officials in the empire were invariably phanariots, as the constantinople greeks were termed from the quarter of the city in which they resided. in speaking of the greeks i have not had in mind the inhabitants of the present kingdom of greece. their subjection by the turks was as {20} complete as that of the serbs and bulgarians, though of course they were exempt from ecclesiastical domination at the hands of an alien clergy speaking a foreign language. the enmity of the bulgarians may to-day be visited upon the subjects of king constantine, but it was not their ancestors who imposed upon bulgaria foreign schools and churches but the greeks of constantinople and thrace, over whom the government of athens has never had jurisdiction. servian independence so much of the balkan countries under turkish rule. their emancipation did not come till the nineteenth century. the first to throw off the yoke was servia. taking advantage of the disorganization and anarchy prevailing in the ottoman empire the servian people rose in a body against their oppressors in january, 1804. under the able leadership first of kara-george and afterward of milosh obrenovich, servian {21} autonomy was definitely established in 1817. the complete independence of the country was recognized by the treaty of berlin in 1878. the boundaries of the new state, however, fell far short of servian aspirations, excluding as they did large numbers of the servian population. the first ruling prince of modern servia was milosh obrenovich; and the subsequent rulers have belonged either to the obrenovich dynasty or to its rival the dynasty of kara-george. king peter, who came to the throne in 1903, is a member of the latter family. greek independence scarcely had servia won her freedom when the greek war of independence broke out. archbishop germanos called the christian population of the morea under the standard of the cross in 1821. for three years the greeks, with the assistance of european money and volunteers (of whom lord byron was the most illustrious), conducted a successful campaign {22} against the turkish forces; but after the sultan had in 1824 summoned to his aid mehemet ali, pasha of egypt, with his powerful fleet and disciplined army, the laurels which the greek patriots had won were recovered by the oppressor; and, with the recapture of athens in may, 1827, the whole country once more lay under the dominion of the turks. the powers now recognized that nothing but intervention could save greece for european civilization. the egyptian fleet was annihilated at navarino in october, 1828, by the fleets of england, france, and russia. greece was constituted an independent monarchy, though the powers who recognized its independence traced the frontier of the emancipated country in a jealous and niggardly spirit. prince otto of bavaria was designated the first king and reigned for thirty years. he was succeeded in 1863 by king george who lived to see the northern boundary of his kingdom advanced to saloniki, where, like a faithful sentinel at his post, he fell, on {23} march 18, 1913, by the hand of an assassin just as he had attained the glorious fruition of a reign of fifty years. bulgarian independence there had been a literary revival preceding the dawn of independence in greece. in bulgaria, which was the last of the balkan states to become independent, the national regeneration was also fostered by a literary and educational movement, of which the founding of the first bulgarian school--that of gabrovo--in 1835 was undoubtedly the most important event. in the next five years more than fifty bulgarian schools were established and five bulgarian printing-presses set up. the bulgarians were beginning to re-discover their own nationality. bulgarian schools and books produced a reaction against greek culture and the greek clergy who maintained it. not much longer would greek remain the language of the upper classes in bulgarian cities; not much {24} longer would ignorant peasants, who spoke only bulgarian, call themselves greek. the days of the spiritual domination of the greek patriarchate were numbered. the ecclesiastical ascendency of the greeks had crushed bulgarian nationality more completely than even the civil power of the turks. the abolition of the spiritual rule of foreigners and the restoration of the independent bulgarian church became the leading object of the literary reformers, educators, and patriots. it was a long and arduous campaign--a campaign of education and awakening at home and of appeal and discussion in constantinople. finally the sultan intervened and in 1870 issued a firman establishing the bulgarian exarchate, conferring on it immediate jurisdiction over fifteen dioceses, and providing for the addition of other dioceses on a vote of two-thirds of their christian population. the new bulgarian exarch was immediately excommunicated by the greek patriarch. but the first and most important official step had {25} been taken in the development of bulgarian nationality. the revolt against the turks followed in 1876. it was suppressed by acts of cruelty and horror unparalleled even in the balkans. many thousands of men, women, and children were massacred and scores of villages destroyed. i remember vividly--for i was then in england--how gladstone's denunciation of those atrocities aroused a wave of moral indignation and wrath which swept furiously from one end of great britain to the other, and even aroused the governments and peoples of the continent of europe. the porte refusing to adopt satisfactory measures of reform, russia declared war and her victorious army advanced to the very gates of constantinople. the treaty of san stefano, which russia then enforced upon turkey, created a "big bulgaria" that extended from the black sea to the albanian mountains and from the danube to the aegean, leaving to turkey, however, adrianople, saloniki, and the {26} chalcidician peninsula. but this treaty was torn to pieces by the powers, who feared that "big bulgaria" would become a mere russian dependency, and they substituted for it the treaty of berlin. under this memorable instrument, which dashed to the ground the racial and national aspirations of the bulgarians which the treaty of san stefano had so completely satisfied, their country was restricted to a "tributary principality" lying between the danube and the balkans, eastern roumelia to the south being excluded from it and made an autonomous province of turkey. this breach in the political life of the race was healed in 1885 by the union of eastern roumelia with bulgaria; and the ottoman sovereignty, which had become little more than a form, was completely ended in 1908 when the ruler of the enlarged principality of bulgaria publicly proclaimed it an independent kingdom. in spite of a protest from the porte the independence of bulgaria was at once recognized by the powers. {27} if bulgaria owed the freedom with which the treaty of berlin dowered her to the swords, and also to the pens, of foreigners, her complete independence was her own achievement. but it was not brought about till a generation after the treaty of berlin had recognized the independence of servia, montenegro, and roumania and delegated to austria-hungary the administration of bosnia and herzegovina. yet the progress made by bulgaria first under prince alexander and especially since 1887 under prince ferdinand (who subsequently assumed the title of king and later of czar) is one of the most astonishing phenomena in the history of modern europe. the balkan countries thus in consequence of the events we have here so hastily sketched turkey had lost since the nineteenth century opened a large portion of the balkan peninsula. along the danube and the save at the north bulgaria and servia had {28} become independent kingdoms and bosnia and herzegovina had at first practically and later formally been annexed to austria-hungary. at the extreme southern end of the balkan peninsula the greeks had carved out an independent kingdom extending from cape matapan to the vale of tempe and the gulf of arta. all that remained of european turkey was the territory lying between greece and the slav countries of montenegro, bosnia, servia, and bulgaria. the porte has divided this domain into six provinces or vilayets, besides constantinople and its environs. these vilayets are scutari and janina on the adriatic; kossovo and monastir, adjoining them on the east; next saloniki, embracing the centre of the area; and finally adrianople, extending from the mesta river to the black sea. in ordinary language the ancient classical names are generally used to designate these divisions. the vilayet of adrianople roughly corresponds to thrace, the adriatic vilayets to epirus, and the intervening {29} territory to macedonia. parts of the domain in question are, however, also known under other names. the district immediately south of servia is often called old servia; and the adriatic coast lands between montenegro and greece are generally designated albania on the north and epirus on the south. the area of turkey in europe in 1912 was 169,300 square kilometers; of bulgaria 96,300; of greece 64,600; of servia 48,300; and of montenegro 9,000. the population of european turkey at the same date was 6,130,000; of bulgaria 4,329,000; of greece 2,632,000; of servia 2,912,000; and of montenegro 250,000. to the north of the balkan states, with the danube on the south and the black sea on the east, lay roumania having an area of 131,350 square kilometers and a population of 7,070,000. {30} causes of the first balkan war what was the occasion of the war between turkey and the balkan states in 1912? the most general answer that can be given to that question is contained in the one word _macedonia_. geographically macedonia lies between greece, servia, and bulgaria. ethnographically it is an extension of their races. and if, as matthew arnold declared, the primary impulse both of individuals and of nations is the tendency to expansion, macedonia both in virtue of its location and of its population was fore-ordained to be a magnet to the emancipated christian nations of the balkans. of course the expansion of greeks and slavs meant the expulsion of turks. hence the macedonian question was the quintessence of the near eastern question. but apart altogether from the expansionist ambitions and the racial sympathies of their kindred in bulgaria, servia, and greece, the {31} population of macedonia had the same right to emancipation from turkish domination and oppression as their brethren in these neighboring states. the moslems had forfeited their sovereign rights in europe by their unutterable incapacity to govern their christian subjects. had the treaty of berlin sanctioned, instead of undoing, the treaty of san stefano, the whole of macedonia would have come under bulgarian sovereignty; and although servia and especially greece would have protested against the bulgarian absorption of their macedonian brethren (whom they had always hoped to bring under their own jurisdiction when the turk was expelled) the result would certainly have been better for all the christian inhabitants of macedonia as well as for the mohammedans (who number 800,000 persons or nearly one third of the entire population of macedonia). as it was these people were all doomed to a continuation of turkish misgovernment, oppression, and slaughter. the treaty of berlin {32} indeed provided for reforms, but the porte through diplomacy and delay frustrated all the efforts of europe to have them put into effect. for fifteen years the people waited for the fulfilment of the european promise of an amelioration of their condition, enduring meanwhile the scandalous misgovernment of abdul hamid ii. but after 1893 revolutionary societies became active. the internal organization was a local body whose programme was "macedonia for the macedonians." but both in bulgaria and in greece there were organized societies which sent insurgent bands into macedonia to maintain and assert their respective national interests. this was one of the causes of the war between turkey and greece in 1897, and the reverses of the greeks in that war inured to the advantage of the bulgarian propaganda in macedonia. servian bands soon after began to appear on the scene. these hostile activities in macedonia naturally produced reprisals at the hands of the turkish authorities. in one {33} district alone 100 villages were burned, over 8,000 houses destroyed, and 60,000 peasants left without homes at the beginning of winter. meanwhile the austrian and russian governments intervened and drew up elaborate schemes of reform, but their plans could not be adequately enforced and the result was failure. the austro-russian entente came to an end in 1908, and in the same year england joined russia in a project aiming at a better administration of justice and involving more effective european supervision. scarcely had this programme been announced when the revolution under the young turk party broke out which promised to the world a regeneration of the ottoman empire. hopeful of these constitutional reformers of turkey, europe withdrew from macedonia and entrusted its destinies to its new master. never was there a more bitter disappointment. if autocratic sultans had punished the poor macedonians with whips, the young turks flayed them with scorpions. {34} sympathy, indignation, and horror conspired with nationalistic aspirations and territorial interests to arouse the kindred populations of the surrounding states. and in october, 1912, war was declared against turkey by bulgaria, servia, montenegro, and greece. the balkan league this brings us to the so-called balkan alliance about which much has been written and many errors ignorantly propagated. for months after the outbreak of the war against turkey the development of this alliance into a confederation of the balkan states, on the model of the american or the german constitution, was a theme of constant discussion in europe and america. as a matter of fact there existed no juridical ground for this expectation, and the sentiments of the peoples of the four christian nations, even while they fought together against the moslem, were saturated with such an infusion of suspicion {35} and hostility as to render nugatory any programme of balkan confederation. an alliance had indeed been concluded between greece and bulgaria in may, 1912, but it was a defensive, not an offensive alliance. it provided that in case turkey attacked either of these states, the other should come to its assistance with all its forces, and that whether the object of the attack were the territorial integrity of the nation or the rights guaranteed it by international law or special conventions. without the knowledge of the greek government, an offensive alliance against turkey had in march, 1912, been concluded between servia and bulgaria which determined their respective military obligations in case of war and the partition between them, in the event of victory, of the conquered turkish provinces in europe. a similar offensive and defensive alliance between greece and turkey was under consideration, but before the plan was matured bulgaria and servia had decided to declare war against turkey. this {36} decision had been hastened by the turkish massacres at kochana and berane, which aroused the deepest indignation, especially in bulgaria. servia and bulgaria informed greece that in three days they would mobilize their forces for the purpose of imposing reforms on turkey, and, if within a specified time they did not receive a satisfactory reply, they would invade the ottoman territory and declare war. they invited greece on this short notice to co-operate with them by a simultaneous mobilization. it was a critical moment not only for the little kingdom of king george, but for that great cause of hellenism which for thousands of years had animated, and which still animated, the souls of the greek population in all aegean lands. greece and the league king george himself was a ruler of large experience, of great practical wisdom, and of fine diplomatic skill. he had shortly before {37} selected as prime minister the former cretan insurgent, mr. eleutherios venizelos. it is significant that the new premier had also taken the war portfolio. he foresaw the impending conflict--as every wise statesman in europe had foreseen it--and began to make preparations for it. for the reorganization of the army and navy he secured french and english experts, the former headed by general eydoux, the latter by admiral tufnel. by 1914 it was estimated that the military and naval forces of the country would be thoroughly trained and equipped, and war was not expected before that date. but now in 1912 the hand of the greek government was forced. and a decision one way or the other was inevitable. mr. venizelos had already proved himself an agitator, an orator, and a politician. he was now to reveal himself not only to greece but to europe as a wise statesman and an effective leader of his people. the first test came in his answer to the invitation to join bulgaria and {38} servia within three days in a war against turkey. of all possibilities open to him mr. venizelos rejected the programme of continued isolation for greece. there were those who glorified it as splendid and majestic: to him under the existing circumstances it seemed stupid in itself and certain to prove disastrous in its results. greece alone would never have been able to wage a war against turkey. and if greece declined to participate in the inevitable conflict, which the action of the two slav states had only hastened, then whether they won or turkey won, greece was bound to lose. it was improbable that the ottoman power should come out of the contest victorious; but, if the unexpected happened, what would be the position, not only of the millions of greeks in the turkish empire, but of the little kingdom of greece itself on whose northern boundary the insolent moslem oppressor, flushed with his triumph over bulgaria, servia, and montenegro, would be immovably entrenched? on the other {39} hand, if these christian states themselves should succeed, as seemed likely, in destroying the ottoman empire in europe, the kingdom of greece, if she now remained a passive spectator of their struggles, would find in the end that macedonia had come into the possession of the victorious slavs, and the great idea of the greeks--the idea of expansion into hellenic lands eastward toward constantinople--exploded as an empty bubble. it was mr. venizelos's conclusion that greece could not avoid participating in the struggle. neutrality would have entailed the complete bankruptcy of hellenism in the orient. there remained only the alternative of co-operation--co-operation with turkey or co-operation with the christian states of the balkans. greek and bulgarian antipathies how near greece was to an alliance with turkey the world may never know. at the time nothing of the sort was even suspected. it {40} was not until turkey had been overpowered by the forces of the four christian states and the attitude of bulgaria toward the other three on the question of the division of the conquered territories had become irreconcilable and menacing that mr. venizelos felt it proper to communicate to the greek people the history of the negotiations by which the greek government had bound their country to a partner now felt to be so unreasonable and greedy. feeling in greece was running high against bulgaria. the attacks on mr. venizelos's government were numerous and bitter. he was getting little or no credit for the victory that had been won against turkey, while his opponents denounced him for sacrificing the fruits of that victory to bulgaria. the greek nation especially resented the occupation by bulgarian troops of the aegean coast lands with their large hellenic population which lay between the struma and the mesta including the cities of seres and drama and especially kavala with {41} its fine harbor and its hinterland famed for crops of choice tobacco. it was on the fourth of july, 1913, a few days after the outbreak of the war between bulgaria and her late allies, that mr. venizelos made his defence in an eloquent and powerful speech at a special session of the greek parliament. the accusation against him was not only that during the late war he had sacrificed greek interests to bulgaria but that he had committed a fatal blunder in joining her in the campaign against turkey. his reply was that since greece could not stand alone he had to seek allies in the balkans, and that it was not his fault if the choice had fallen on bulgaria. he had endeavored to maintain peace with turkey. listen to his own words: "i did not seek war against the ottoman empire. i would not have sought war at a later date if i could have obtained any adjustment of the cretan question--that thorn in the side of greece which can no longer be left as {42} it is without rendering a normal political life absolutely impossible for us. i endeavored to adjust this question, to continue the policy of a close understanding with the neighboring empire, in the hope of obtaining in this way the introduction of reforms which would render existence tolerable to the millions of greeks within the ottoman empire." the cretan problem it was this cretan question, even more than the macedonian question, which in 1897 had driven greece, single-handed and unprepared, into a war with turkey in which she was destined to meet speedy and overwhelming defeat. it was this same "accursed cretan question," as mr. venizelos called it, which now drew the country into a military alliance against her ottoman neighbor who, until too late, refused to make any concession either to the just claims of the cretans or to the conciliatory proposals of the greek government. {43} lying midway between three continents, the island of crete has played a large part both in ancient and modern history. the explorations and excavations of sir arthur evans at cnossus seem to prove that the homeric civilization of tiryns and mycenae was derived from crete, whose earliest remains carry us back three thousand years before the christian era. and if crete gave to ancient greece her earliest civilization she has insisted on giving herself to modern greece. it is a natural union; for the cretans are greeks, undiluted with turk, albanian, or slav blood, though with some admixture of italian. the one obstacle to this marriage of kindred souls has been turkey. for crete was taken from the venetians by the turks in 1669, after a twenty years' siege of candia, the capital. a portion of the inhabitants embraced the creed of their conquerors, so that at the present time perhaps two-thirds of the population are christian and one-third moslem. the result has been to make crete the {44} worst governed province of the ottoman empire. in turkey in europe diversity of race has kept the christians quarreling with one another; in crete diversity of religion plunges the same race into internecine war as often as once in ten years. the island had been the scene of chronic insurrections all through the nineteenth century. each ended as a rule with a promise of the sultan to confer upon the cretans some form of local self-government, with additional privileges, financial or other. but these promises were never fulfilled. things went from bad to worse. the military intervention of greece in 1897 led to war with turkey in which she was disastrously defeated. the european powers had meantime intervened and they decided that crete should be endowed with autonomy under the sovereignty of the sultan, and in 1898 they appointed prince george of greece as high commissioner. between the political parties of the island and the representatives of the powers {45} the prince, who worked steadily for the welfare of crete, had a difficult task, and in 1906 he withdrew, his successor being mr. zaimis, a former prime minister of greece. the new commissioner was able to report to the protecting powers in 1908 that a gendarmerie had been established, that tranquility was being maintained, and that the moslem population enjoyed safety and security. thereupon the powers began to withdraw their forces from the island. and the project for annexation with greece, which had been proclaimed by the cretan insurgents under mr. venizelos in 1905 and which the insular assembly had hastened to endorse, was once more voted by the assembly, who went on to provide for the government of the island in the name of the king of greece. i have not time to follow in detail the history of this programme of annexation. suffice it to say that the cretans ultimately went so far as to elect members to sit in the greek parliament at athens, and that turkey had {46} given notice that their admission to the chamber would be regarded as a _casus belli_. i saw them on their arrival in athens in october, 1912, where they received a most enthusiastic welcome from the greeks, while everybody stopped to admire their picturesque dress, their superb physique, and their dignified demeanor. if mr. venizelos excluded these delegates from the chamber he would defy the sentiments of the greek people. if he admitted them, turkey would proclaim war. mr. venizelos's solution the course actually pursued by mr. venizelos in this predicament he himself explained to the parliament in the speech delivered at the close of the war against turkey from which i have already quoted. he declared to his astonished countrymen that in his desire to reach a close understanding with turkey he had arrived at the point where he no longer demanded a union of crete with greece, "knowing it was {47} too much for the ottoman empire." what he did ask for was the recognition of the right of the cretan deputies to sit in the greek chamber, while crete itself should remain an autonomous state under the sovereignty of the sultan. nay, mr. venizelos was so anxious to prevent war with turkey that he made another concession, for which, he frankly confessed, his political opponents if things had turned out differently would have impeached him for high treason. he actually proposed, in return for the recognition of the right of the cretan deputies to sit in the greek chamber, that greece should pay on behalf of crete an annual tribute to the porte. happily for mr. venizelos's government the young turk party who then governed the ottoman empire rejected all these proposals. meanwhile their misgovernment and massacre of christians in macedonia were inflaming the kindred slav nations and driving them into war against turkey. when matters had {48} reached a crisis, the reactionary and incompetent young turk party were forced out of power and a wise and prudent statesman, the venerable kiamil pasha, succeeded to the office of grand vizier. he was all for conciliation and compromise with the greek government, whom he had often warned against an alliance with bulgaria, and he had in readiness a solution of the cretan question which he was certain would be satisfactory to both greece and turkey. but these concessions were now too late. greece had decided to throw in her lot with servia and bulgaria. and a decree was issued for the mobilization of the greek troops. the war there is not time, nor have i the qualifications, to describe the military operations which followed. in greece the crown prince was appointed commanding general, and the event proved him one of the great captains of our day. the prime minister, who was also minister {49} of war, furnished him with troops and munitions and supplies. the plains and hills about athens were turned into mock battlefields for the training of raw recruits; and young greeks from all parts of the world--tens of thousands of them from america--poured in to protect the fatherland and to fight the secular enemy of europe. the greek government had undertaken to raise an army of 125,000 men to co-operate with the allies; it was twice as large a number as even the friends of greece dreamed possible; yet before the war closed king constantine had under his banner an army of 250,000 men admirably armed, clothed, and equipped;--each soldier indeed having munitions fifty per cent in excess of the figure fixed by the general staff. greek military and naval operations the greek army, which had been concentrated at larissa, entered macedonia by the meluna pass and the valley of the xerias river. {50} the turks met the advancing force at elassona, but retired after a few hours' fighting. they took their stand at the pass of sarandaporon, from which they were driven by a day's hard fighting on the part of the greek army and the masterly tactics of the crown prince. on october 23 the greeks were in possession of serfidje. thence they pushed forward on both sides of the aliakmon river toward veria, which the crown prince entered with his staff on the morning of october 30. they had covered 150 miles from larissa, with no facilities but wagons for feeding the army and supplying ammunition. but at veria they struck the line of railway from monastir to saloniki. not far away was jenitsa, where the turkish army numbering from 35,000 to 40,000 had concentrated to make a stand for the protection of saloniki. the battle of jenitsa was fiercely contested but the greeks were victorious though they lost about 2000 men. this victory opened the way to saloniki. the turkish armies {51} which defended it having been scattered by the greek forces, that city surrendered to crown prince constantine on the eighth of november. it was only three weeks since the greek army had left larissa and it had disposed of about 60,000 turks on the way. on the outbreak of war greece had declared a blockade of all turkish ports. to the usual list of contraband articles there were added not only coal, concerning which the practice of belligerent nations had varied, but also machine oil, which so far as i know was then for the first time declared contraband of war. as turkey imported both coal and lubricants, the purpose of this policy was of course to paralyze transportation in the ottoman empire. incidentally i may say the prohibition of lubricating oil caused much inconvenience to american commerce; not, however, primarily on its own account, but because of its confusion, in the minds of greek officials, with such harmless substances as cotton seed oil and oleo. the {52} greek navy not only maintained a very effective blockade but also took possession of all the aegean islands under turkish rule, excepting rhodes and the dodecanese, which italy held as a temporary pledge for the fulfilment by turkey of some of the conditions of the treaty by which they had closed their recent war. it will be seen, therefore, that the navy was a most important agent in the campaign, and greece was the only one of the allies that had a navy. the greek navy was sufficient not only to terrorize the turkish navy, which it reduced to complete impotence, but also to paralyze turkish trade and commerce with the outside world, to embarrass railway transportation within the empire, to prevent the sending of reinforcements to macedonia or the aegean coast of thrace, and to detach from turkey those aegean islands over which she still exercised effective jurisdiction. {53} serb military operations on land the other allies had been not less active than greece. montenegro had fired the first shot of the war. and the brave soldiers of king nicholas, the illustrious ruler of the one balkan state which the turks had never conquered, were dealing deadly blows to their secular enemy both in novi bazar and albania. as the greeks had pressed into southern macedonia, so the servian armies advanced through old servia into northern and central macedonia. in their great victory over the turkish forces at kumanovo they avenged the defeat of their ancestors at kossovo five hundred years before. still marching southward they again defeated the enemy in two great engagements, the one at prilip and the other at monastir. the latter city had been the object of the greek advance to fiorina, but when the prize fell to servia, though the greeks were disappointed, it made no breach in the friendship {54} of the two allies. already no doubt they were both gratified that the spheres of their military occupation were conterminous and that no turkish territory remained for bulgaria to occupy west of the vardar river. bulgarian military operations while greece and servia were scattering, capturing, or destroying the turkish troops stationed in macedonia, and closing in on that province from north and south like an irresistible vise, it fell to bulgaria to meet the enemy's main army in the plains of eastern thrace. the distribution of the forces of the allies was the natural result of their respective geographical location. macedonia to the west of the vardar and bregalnitza rivers was the only part of turkey which adjoined greece and servia. thrace, on the other hand, marched with the southern boundary of bulgaria from the sources of the mesta river to the black sea, and its eastern half was intersected {55} diagonally by the main road from sofia to adrianople and constantinople. along this line the bulgarians sent their forces against the common enemy as soon as war was declared. the swift story of their military exploits, the record of their brilliant victories, struck europe with amazement. here was a country which only thirty-five years earlier had been an unknown and despised province of turkey in europe now overwhelming the armies of the ottoman empire in the great victories of kirk kilisse, lule burgas, and chorlu. in a few weeks the irresistible troops of king ferdinand had reached the chataldja line of fortifications. only twenty-five miles beyond lay constantinople where they hoped to celebrate their final triumph. the collapse of turkey the great powers of europe had other views. even if the bulgarian delay at chataldja--a delay probably due to {56} exhaustion--had not given the turks time to strengthen their defences and reorganize their forces, it is practically certain that the bulgarian army would not have been permitted to enter constantinople. but with the exception of the capital and its fortified fringe, all turkey in europe now lay at the mercy of the allies. the entire territory was either already occupied by their troops or could be occupied at leisure. only at three isolated points was the ottoman power unsubdued. the city of adrianople, though closely besieged by the bulgarians, still held out, and the great fortresses of scutari in northern albania and janina in epirus remained in the hands of their turkish garrisons. the power of turkey had collapsed in a few weeks. whether the ruin was due to inefficiency and corruption in government or the injection by the young turk party of politics into the army or exhaustion resulting from the recent war with italy or to other causes more obscure, {57} we need not pause to inquire. the disaster itself, however, had spread far enough in the opinion of europe, and a peace conference was summoned in december. delegates from the belligerent states and ambassadors from the great powers came together in london. but their labors in the cause of peace proved unavailing. turkey was unwilling to surrender adrianople and bulgaria insisted on it as a _sine qua non_. the peace conference broke up and hostilities were resumed. the siege of adrianople was pressed by the bulgarians with the aid of 60,000 servian troops. it was taken by storm on march 26. already, on march 6, janina had yielded to the well directed attacks of king constantine. and the fighting ended with the spectacular surrender on april 23 of scutari to king nicholas, who for a day at least defied the united will of europe. turkey was finally compelled to accept terms of peace. in january, while the london peace conference was still in session, kiamil pasha, {58} who had endeavored to prepare the nation for the territorial sacrifice he had all along recognized as inevitable, was driven from power and his war minister, nazim pasha, murdered through an uprising of the young turk party executed by enver bey, who himself demanded the resignation of kiamil and carried it to the sultan and secured its acceptance. the insurgents set up mahmud shevket pasha as grand vizier and made the retention of adrianople their cardinal policy. but the same inexorable fate overtook the new government in april as faced kiamil in january. the powers were insistent on peace, and the successes of the allies left no alternative and no excuse for delay. the young turk party who had come to power on the adrianople issue were accordingly compelled to ratify the cession to the allies of the city with all its mosques and tombs and historic souvenirs. the treaty of london, which proved to be short-lived, was signed on may 30. {59} the terms of peace the treaty of peace provided that beyond a line drawn from enos near the mouth of the maritza river on the aegean sea to midia on the coast of the black sea all turkey should be ceded to the allies except albania, whose boundaries were to be fixed by the great powers. it was also stipulated that the great powers should determine the destiny of the aegean islands belonging to turkey which greece now claimed by right of military occupation and the vote of their inhabitants (nearly all of whom were greek). a more direct concession to greece was the withdrawal of turkish sovereignty over crete. the treaty also contained financial and other provisions, but they do not concern us here. the essential point is that, with the exception of constantinople and a narrow hinterland for its protection, the moslems after more than five centuries of possession had been driven out of europe. {60} this great and memorable consummation was the achievement of the united nations of the balkans. it was not a happy augury for the immediate future to recall the historic fact that the past successes of the moslems had been due to dissensions and divisions among their christian neighbors. {61} ii the war between the allies [illustration: map showing the turkish territories occupied by the armies of bulgaria, greece, montenegro, and servia at the close of the war against turkey.] {63} ii the war between the allies the treaty of london officially eliminated turkey from the further settlement of the balkan question. thanks to the good will of the great powers toward herself or to their rising jealousy of bulgaria she was not stripped of her entire european possessions west of the chataldja lines where the victorious bulgarians had planted their standards. the enos-midia frontier not only guaranteed to her a considerable portion of territory which the bulgarians had occupied but extended her coast line, from the point where the chataldja lines strike the sea of marmora, out through the dardanelles and along the aegean littoral to the mouth of the maritza river. to that extent the great powers may be said to have re-established the {64} turks once more in europe from which they had been practically driven by the balkan allies, and especially the bulgarians. all the rest of her european possessions, however, turkey was forced to surrender either in trust to the great powers or absolutely to the balkan allies. the great question now was how the allies should divide among themselves the spoils of war. rival ambitions of the allies this was a difficult matter to adjust. before the war began, as we have already seen, a treaty of partition had been negotiated between bulgaria and servia, but conditions had changed materially in the interval and servia now demanded a revision of the treaty and refused to withdraw her troops from central macedonia, which the treaty had marked for reversion to bulgaria. in consequence the relations between the governments and peoples of {65} servia and bulgaria were dangerously strained. the bulgarians denounced the servians as perfidious and faithless and the servians responded by excoriating the colossal greed and intolerance of the bulgarians. the immemorial mutual hatred of the two slav nations was stirred to its lowest depths, and it boiled and sputtered like a witches' cauldron. in eastern macedonia bulgarians and greeks were each eagerly pushing their respective spheres of occupation without much regard to the rights or feeling of the other ally. though the bulgarians had not forgiven the greeks for anticipating them in the capture of saloniki in the month of november, the rivalry between them in the following winter and spring had for its stage the territory between the struma and the mesta rivers--and especially the quadrilateral marked by kavala and orphani on the coast and seres and drama on the line of railway from saloniki to adrianople. the greeks had one advantage over the bulgarians: {66} their troops could be employed to secure extensions of territory for the hellenic kingdom at a time when bulgaria still needed the bulk of her forces to fight the turks at chataldja and adrianople. hence the greeks occupied towns in the district from which bulgarian troops had been recalled. nor did they hesitate to dislodge scattered bulgarian troops which their ally had left behind to establish a claim of occupation. naturally disputes arose between the military commanders and these led to repeated armed encounters. on march 5 greeks and bulgarians fought at nigrita as they subsequently fought at pravishta, leftera, panghaion, and anghista. this conduct of the allies toward one another while the common enemy was still in the field boded ill for their future relations. "our next war will be with bulgaria," said the man on the street in athens, and this bellicose sentiment was reciprocated alike by the bulgarian people and the bulgarian army. the {67} secular mutual enmities and animosities of the greeks and bulgarians, which self-interest had suppressed long enough to enable the balkan allies to make european turkey their own, burst forth with redoubled violence under the stimulus of the imperious demand which the occasion now made upon them all for an equitable distribution of the conquered territory. for ages the fatal vice of the balkan nations has been the immoderate and intolerant assertion by each of its own claims coupled with contemptuous disregard of the rights of others. albania a cause of friction there were also external causes which contributed to the deepening tragedy in the balkans. undoubtedly the most potent was the dislocation of the plans of the allies by the creation of an independent albania. this new kingdom was called into being by the voice of the european concert at the demand of austria-hungary supported by italy. {68} the controlling force in politics, though not the only force, is self-interest. austria-hungary had long sought an outlet through macedonia to the aegean by way of saloniki. it was also the aim of servia to reach the adriatic. but the foreign policy of austria-hungary, which has millions of serbs under its dominion, has steadily opposed the aggrandizement of servia. and now that servia and her allies had taken possession of macedonia and blocked the path of austria-hungary to saloniki, it was not merely revenge, it was self-interest pursuing a consistent foreign policy, which moved the dual monarchy to make the cardinal feature of its balkan programme the exclusion of servia from access to the adriatic sea. before the first balkan war began the adriatic littoral was under the dominion of austria-hungary and italy, for though montenegro and european turkey were their maritime neighbors neither of them had any naval strength. naturally {69} these two dominant powers desired that after the close of the balkan war they should not be in a worse position in the adriatic than heretofore. but if servia were allowed to expand westward to the adriatic, their supremacy might in the future be challenged. for servia might enter into special relations with her great sister slav state, russia, or a confederation might be formed embracing all the balkan states between the black sea and the adriatic: and, in either event, austria-hungary and italy would no longer enjoy the unchallenged supremacy on the adriatic coasts which was theirs so long as turkey held dominion over the maritime country lying between greece and montenegro. as a necessity of practical politics, therefore, there emerged the austro-italian policy of an independent albania. but natural and essential as this policy was for italy and austria-hungary, it was fatal to servia's dream of expansion to the adriatic; it set narrow limits to the northward extension of {70} greece into epirus, and the southward extension of montenegro below scutari; it impelled these allies to seek compensation in territory that bulgaria had regarded as her peculiar preserve; and as a consequence it seriously menaced the existence of the balkan alliance torn as it already was by mutual jealousies, enmities, aggressions, and recriminations. recoil of servia toward the aegean the first effect of the european fiat regarding an independent albania was the recoil of servia against bulgaria. confronted by the _force majeure_ of the great powers which stopped her advance to the adriatic, servia turned her anxious regard toward the gulf of saloniki and the aegean sea. already her victorious armies had occupied macedonia from the albanian frontier eastward beyond the vardar river to strumnitza, istib, and kochana, and southward below monastir and ghevgheli, where they touched the boundary of the {71} greek occupation of southern macedonia. an agreement with the greeks, who held the city of saloniki and its hinterland as well as the whole chalcidician peninsula, would ensure servia an outlet to the sea. and the merchants of saloniki--mostly the descendants of jews expelled from spain in the fifteenth century--were shrewd enough to recognize the advantage to their city of securing the commerce of servia, especially as they were destined to lose, in consequence of hostile tariffs certain to be established by the conquerors, a considerable portion of the trade which had formerly flowed to them without let or hindrance from a large section of european turkey. the government of greece was equally favorably disposed to this programme; for, in the first place, it was to its interest to cultivate friendly relations with servia, in view of possible embroilments with bulgaria; and, in the second place, it had to countercheck the game of those who wanted either to make saloniki a free city or to {72} incorporate it in a big bulgaria, and who were using with some effect the argument that the annexation of the city to greece meant the throttling of its trade and the annihilation of its prosperity. the interests of the city of saloniki, the interests of greece, and the interests of servia all combined to demand the free flow of servian trade by way of saloniki. and if no other power obtained jurisdiction over any macedonian territory through which that trade passed, it would be easy for the greek and servian governments to come to an understanding. treaty restrictions just here, however, was the rub. the secret treaty of march, 1912, providing for the offensive and defensive alliance of bulgaria and servia against the ottoman empire regulated, in case of victory, the division of the conquered territory between the allies. and the extreme limit, on the south and east, of turkish territory {73} assigned to servia by this treaty was fixed by a line starting from ochrida on the borders of albania and running northeastward across the vardar river a few miles above veles and thence, following the same general direction, through ovcepolje and egri palanka to golema vreh on the frontier of bulgaria--a terminus some twenty miles southeast of the meeting point of servia, macedonia, and bulgaria. during the war with turkey the servian armies had paid no attention to the ochrida-golema vreh line. the great victory over the turks at kumanovo, by which the slav defeat at kossovo five hundred years earlier was avenged, was, it is true, won at a point north of the line in question. but the subsequent victories of prilip and monastir were gained to the south of it--far, indeed, into the heart of the macedonian territory recognized by the treaty as bulgarian. if you look at a map you will see that the boundary between servia and bulgaria, starting {74} from the danube, runs in a slightly undulating line due south. now what the military forces of king peter did during the war of the balkan states with the ottoman empire was to occupy all european turkey south of servia between the prolongation of that boundary line and the new kingdom of albania till they met the hellenic army advancing northward under crown prince constantine, when the two governments agreed on a common boundary for new servia and new greece along a line starting from lake presba and running eastward between monastir and fiorina to the vardar river a little to the south of ghevgheli. the apple of discord but this arrangement between greece and servia would leave no territory for bulgaria in central and western macedonia! yet servia had solemnly bound herself by treaty not to ask for any turkish territory below the ochrida-golema vreh line. there was no {75} similar treaty with greece, but bulgaria regarded the northern frontier of new greece as a matter for adjustment between the two governments. servia, withdrawn behind the ochrida-golema vreh line in accordance with the terms of the treaty, would at any rate have nothing to say about the matter. and, although the bulgarian government never communicated, officially or unofficially, its own views to greece or servia, i believe we should not make much mistake in asserting that a line drawn from ochrida to saloniki (which bulgaria in spite of the greek occupation continued to claim) would roughly represent the limit of its voluntary concession. now if you imagine a base line drawn from saloniki to goletna vreh, you have an equilateral triangle resting on ochrida as apex. and this equilateral triangle represents approximately what bulgaria claimed in the western half of macedonia as her own. the war between the allies was fought over the possession of this triangle. the larger {76} portion of it had in the war against turkey been occupied by the forces of servia; and the nation, inflamed by the military spirit of the army, had made up its mind that, treaty or no treaty, it should not be evacuated. on the south, especially above vodena, the greeks had occupied a section of the fatal triangle. and the two governments had decided that they would not tolerate the driving of a bulgarian wedge between new servia and new greece. bulgaria, on the other hand, was inexorable in her demands on servia for the fulfilment of the terms of the treaty of partition. at the same time she worried the greek government about the future of saloniki, and that at a time when the greek people were criticizing mr. venizelos for having allowed the bulgarians to occupy regions in macedonia and thrace inhabited by greeks, notably seres, drama, and kavala, and the adjacent country between the struma and the mesta. these were additional causes of dissension between the allies. but the primary {77} disruptive force was the attraction, the incompatible attraction, exerted on them all by that central macedonian triangle whose apex rested on the ruins of czar samuel's palace at ochrida and whose base extended from saloniki to golema vreh. the claim of bulgaria from that base line to the black sea nearly all european turkey (with the exception of the chalcidician peninsula, including saloniki and its hinterland) had been occupied by the military forces of bulgaria. why then was bulgaria so insistent on getting beyond that base line, crossing the vardar, and possessing herself of central macedonia up to ochrida and the eastern frontier of albania? the answer, in brief, is that it has been the undeviating policy of bulgaria, ever since her own emancipation by russia in 1877, to free the bulgarians still under the ottoman yoke and unite them in a common fatherland. the {78} great bulgaria which was created by russia in the treaty she forced on turkey--the treaty of san stefano--was constructed under the influence of the idea of a union of the bulgarian race in a single state under a common government. this treaty was afterward torn to pieces by the congress of berlin, which set up for the bulgarians a very diminutive principality. but the bulgarians, from the palace down to the meanest hut, have always been animated by that racial and national idea. the annexation of eastern roumelia in 1885 was a great step in the direction of its realization. and it was to carry that programme to completion that bulgaria made war against turkey in 1912. her primary object was the liberation of the bulgarians in macedonia and their incorporation in a great bulgaria. and the treaty of partition with servia seemed, in the event of victory over turkey, to afford a guarantee of the accomplishment of her long-cherished purpose. it was a strange irony of {79} fate that while as a result of the geographical situation of the belligerents bulgaria, at the close of the war with turkey, found herself in actual occupation of all european turkey from the black sea up to the river struma and beyond,--that is, all thrace to chataldja as well as eastern macedonia--her allies were in possession of the bulk of macedonia, including the entire triangle she had planned to inject between the frontiers of new servia and new greece! the bulgarians claimed this triangle on ethnological grounds. its inhabitants, they asseverated, were their brethren, as genuinely bulgarian as the subjects of king ferdinand. racial propaganda in macedonia of all perplexing subjects in the world few can be more baffling than the distribution of races in macedonia. the turks classify the population, not by language or by physical characteristics, but by religion. a greek is a member of the orthodox church who {80} recognizes the patriarch of constantinople; a bulgarian, on the other hand, is one of the same religious faith who recognizes the exarch; and since the servians in turkey have no independent church but recognize the patriarchate they are often, as opposed to bulgarians, called greeks. race, being thus merged in religion--in something that rests on the human will and not on physical characteristics fixed by nature--can in that part of the world be changed as easily as religion. a macedonian may be a greek to-day, a bulgarian to-morrow, and a servian next day. we have all heard of the captain in the comic opera who "in spite of all temptations to belong to other nations" remained an englishman. there would have been nothing comic in this assertion had the redoubtable captain lived in macedonia. in that land a race is a political party composed of members with common customs and religion who stand for a "national idea" which they strenuously endeavor to force on others. {81} macedonia is the land of such racial propaganda. as the turkish government forbids public meetings for political purposes, the propaganda takes an ecclesiastical and linguistic form. each "race" seeks to convert the people to its faith by the agency of schools and churches, which teach and use its own language. up to the middle of the nineteenth century the greeks, owing to their privileged ecclesiastical position in the ottoman empire, had exclusive spiritual and educational jurisdiction over the members of the orthodox church in macedonia. the opposition of the bulgarians led, as we have already seen, to the establishment in 1870 of the exarchate, that is, of an independent bulgarian orthodox church with the exarch at its head. the bulgarian propaganda in macedonia demanded the appointment of bishops to conduct churches and schools under the authority of the exarchate. in 1891 the porte conceded bulgarian bishops to ochrida and uskub, in 1894 to veles and nevrokop, {82} and in 1898 to monastir, strumnitza, and dibra. as has been well said, the church of the exarchate was really occupied in creating bulgarians: it offered to the slavonic population of macedonia services and schools conducted in a language which they understood and showed a genuine interest in their education. by 1900 macedonia had 785 bulgarian schools, 39,892 pupils, and 1,250 teachers. the servian propaganda in macedonia was at a disadvantage in comparison with the bulgarian because it had not a separate ecclesiastical organization. as we have already seen, the orthodox serbs owe allegiance to the greek patriarch in constantinople. and at first they did not push their propaganda as zealously or as successfully as the bulgarians. in fact the national aspirations of the people of servia had been in the direction of bosnia and herzegovina; but after these provinces were assigned to austria by the treaty of berlin, a marked {83} change of attitude occurred in the servian government and nation. they now claimed as servian the slavonic population of macedonia which hitherto bulgaria had cultivated as her own. the course of politics in bulgaria, notably her embroilment with russia, inured to the advantage of the servian propaganda in macedonia, which after 1890 made great headway. the servian government made liberal contributions for macedonian schools. and before the nineteenth century closed the servian propaganda could claim 178 schools in the vilayets of saloniki and monastir and in uskub with 321 teachers and 7,200 pupils. these slav propagandists made serious encroachments upon the greek cause, which, only a generation earlier, had possessed a practical monopoly in macedonia. greek efforts too were for a time almost paralyzed in consequence of the disastrous issue of the greco-turkish war in 1897. nevertheless in 1901 the greeks claimed 927 schools in the vilayets of {84} saloniki and monastir with 1,397 teachers and 57,607 pupils. racial facts and fallacies the more bishops, churches, and schools a nationality could show, the stronger its claim on the reversion of macedonia when the turk should be driven out of europe! there was no doubt much juggling with statistics. and though schools and churches were provided by greeks, servians, and bulgarians to satisfy the spiritual and intellectual needs of their kinsmen in macedonia, there was always the ulterior (which was generally the dominant) object of staking out claims in the domain soon to drop from the paralyzed hand of the turk. the bishops may have been good shepherds of their flocks, but the primary qualification for the office was, i imagine, the gift of aggressive political leadership. the turkish government now favored one nationality and now another as the interests of the moment seemed {85} to suggest. with an impish delight in playing off slav against greek and servian against bulgarian, its action on applications for bishoprics was generally taken with a view to embarrassing the rival christian nationalities. and it could when necessary keep the propagandists within severe limits. the bulgarians grew bold after securing so many bishoprics in the nineties and the bishop at uskub thought to open new schools and churches. but the turkish governor--the vali--summoned him and delivered this warning: "o bulgarian, sit upon the eggs you have, and do not burst your belly by trying to lay more." how are we to determine the racial complexion of a country in which race is certified by religion, in which religion is measured by the number of bishops and churches and schools, in which bishops and churches and schools are created and maintained by a propaganda conducted by competing external powers, and in which the results of the propaganda {86} are determined largely by money and men sent from sofia, athens, and belgrade, subject always to the caprice and manipulation of the sultan's government at constantinople? in southern macedonia from the thessalian frontier as far north as the parallel of saloniki, the population is almost exclusively greek, as is also the whole of the chalcidician peninsula, while further east the coast region between the struma and the mesta is also predominantly greek. eastern macedonia to the north of the line of seres and drama and south of the kingdom of bulgaria is generally bulgarian. on the northwest from the city of uskub up to the confines of servia and bosnia, macedonia is mixed serb, bulgarian, and albanian, with the serb element preponderating as you travel northward and the albanian westward. {87} personal observations and experiences the difficulty comes when we attempt to give the racial character of central macedonia, which is equally remote from greece, bulgaria, and servia. i travelled through this district last summer. on june 29, when the war broke out between the allies i found myself in uskub. through the courtesy of the servian authorities i was permitted to ride on the first military train which left the city. descending at veles i drove across central macedonia by way of prilip to monastir, spending the first night, for lack of a better bed, in the carriage, which was guarded by servian sentries. from monastir i motored over execrable roads to lake presba and lake ochrida and thence beyond the city of ochrida to struga on the black drin, from which i looked out on the mountains of albania. coming from athens where for many months i had listened to patriotic stories of {88} the thorough permeation of macedonia by greek settlements my first surprise was my inability to discover a greek majority in central macedonia. in most of the cities a fraction of the population indeed is greek and as a rule the colony is prosperous. this is especially true in monastir, which is a stronghold of greek influence. but while half the population of monastir is mohammedan the so-called bulgarians form the majority of the christian population, though both servians and roumanians have conducted energetic propaganda. in veles two-thirds of the population are christians and nearly all of these are called bulgarians. in ochrida the lower town is mohammedan and the upper christian, and the christian population is almost exclusively of the bulgarian church. it does not follow, however, that the people of central macedonia, even if bulgarian churches are in the ascendant among them, are really connected by ties of blood and language {89} with bulgaria rather than with servia. if history is invoked we shall have to admit that under dushan this region was a part of the serb empire as under simeon and asen it was part of the bulgarian. if an appeal is made to anthropology the answer is still uncertain. for while the mongolian features--broad flat faces, narrow eyes, and straight black hair--which characterize the subjects of king ferdinand can be seen--i myself have seen them--as far west as ochrida, they may also be found all over northern servia as far as belgrade though the servian physical type is entirely different. there is no fixed connection between the anthropological unit and the linguistic or political unit. furthermore, while there are well-marked groups who call themselves serbs or bulgarians there is a larger population not so clearly differentiated by physique or language. undoubtedly they are slavs. but whether serb or bulgarian, or intermediate between the two, no one to-day can demonstrate. central {90} macedonia has its own dialects, any one of which under happy literary auspices might have developed into a separate language. and the men who speak them to-day can more or less understand either servian or bulgarian. hence as the anonymous and highly authoritative author of "turkey in europe," who calls himself odysseus, declares: "the practical conclusion is that neither greeks, servians, nor bulgarians have a right to claim central macedonia. the fact that they all do so shows how weak each claim must be." yet it was bulgaria's intransigent assertion of her claim to central macedonia which led to the war between the allies. it will be instructive to consider the attitude of each of the governments concerned on the eve of the conflict. i hope i am in a position correctly to report it. certainly i had unusual opportunities to learn it. for besides the official position i held in athens during the entire course of both balkan wars i visited the {91} balkan states in june and was accorded the privilege of discussing the then pending crisis with the prime ministers of roumania, servia, and bulgaria. it would of course be improper to quote them; nay more, i feel myself under special obligation sacredly to respect the confidence they reposed in me. but the frank disclosures they made in these conversations gave me a point of view for the comprehension of the situation and the estimate of facts which i have found simply invaluable. and if mr. venizelos in athens, or mr. maioresco in bukarest, or mr. pashitch in belgrade, or dr. daneff, who is no longer prime minister of bulgaria, should ever chance to read what i am saying, i hope each will feel that i have fairly and impartially presented the attitude which their respective governments had taken at this critical moment on the vital issue then confronting them. {92} the attitude of servia i have already indicated the situation of servia. compelled by the great powers to withdraw her troops from albania, after they had triumphantly made their way to the adriatic, she was now requested by bulgaria to evacuate central macedonia up to the ochrida-golema vreh line in accordance with the terms of the treaty between the two countries which was ratified in march, 1912. the servian government believed that for the loss of albania, which the treaty assumed would be annexed to servia, they were entitled to compensation in macedonia. and if now, instead of compensation for the loss of an outlet on the adriatic, they were to withdraw their forces from central macedonia and allow bulgaria to establish herself between new servia and new greece, they would block their own way to saloniki, which was the only prospect now left of a servian outlet to the sea. nor was this the whole {93} story by any means. the army, which comprised all able-bodied servians, was in possession of central macedonia; and the military leaders, with the usual professional bias in favor of imperialism, dictated their expansionist views to the government at belgrade. if bulgaria would not voluntarily grant compensation for the loss of albania, the servian people were ready to take it by force. they had also a direct claim against bulgaria. they had sent 60,000 soldiers to the siege of adrianople, which the bulgarians had hitherto failed to capture. and the servians were now asking, in bitter irony, whether they had gone to war solely for the benefit of bulgaria; whether besides helping her to win all thrace and eastern macedonia they were now to present her with central macedonia, and that at a time when the european concert had stripped them of the expected prize of albania with its much desired adriatic littoral! this argument was graphically presented on a map of which i secured a {94} copy in belgrade. the legend on this map reads as follows: "territories occupied by servia 55,000 square miles. servia cedes to her allies in the east and south 3,800 square miles. servia cedes to albania 15,200 square miles. servia retains 36,000 square miles. territories occupied by bulgaria to enos-midia, 51,200 square miles. the bulgarians demand from the servians still 10,240 square miles. according to bulgarian pretensions bulgaria should get 61,520 square miles and servia only 25,760!" proposed revision of treaty and arbitration when the treaty between servia and bulgaria was negotiated, it seems to have been assumed that the theatre of a war with turkey would be macedonia and that thrace--the country from the mesta to the black sea--would remain intact to turkey. and if the rest of turkey in europe up to the adriatic {95} were conquered by the two allies, the ochrida-golema vreh line would make a fairly equitable division between them of the spoils of war. but with albania denied to servia and thrace occupied by bulgaria, conditions had wholly changed. the servian government declared that the changed conditions had abrogated the treaty of partition and that it was for the two governments now to adjust themselves to the logic of events! on may 28 mr. pashitch, the servian prime minister, formally demanded a revision of the treaty. a personal interview with the bulgarian prime minister, mr. gueshoff, followed on june 2 at tsaribrod. and mr. gueshoff accepted mr. pashitch's suggestion (which originated with mr. venizelos, the greek prime minister) of a conference of representatives of the four allies at st. petersburg. for it should be added that, in the treaty of partition, the czar had been named as arbiter in case of any territorial dispute between the two parties. {96} what followed in the next few days has never been clearly disclosed. but it was of transcendent importance. i have always thought that if mr. gueshoff, one of the authors of the balkan alliance, had been allowed like mr. venizelos and mr. pashitch, to finish his work, there would have been no war between the allies. i did not enjoy the personal acquaintance of mr. gueshoff, but i regarded him as a wise statesman of moderate views, who was disposed to make reasonable concessions for the sake of peace. but a whole nation in arms, flushed with the sense of victory, is always dangerous to the authority of civil government. if mr. gueshoff was ready to arrange some accommodation with mr. pashitch, the military party in bulgaria was all the more insistent in its demands on servia for the evacuation of central macedonia. even in servia mr. pashitch had great difficulty in repressing the jingo ardor of the army, whose bellicose spirit was believed to find expression in the attitude {97} of the crown prince. but the provocation in bulgaria was greater, because, when all was said and done, servia was actually violating an agreement with bulgaria to which she had solemnly set her name. possibly the military party gained the ear of king ferdinand. certainly it was reported that he was consulting with leaders of the opposition. presumably they were all dissatisfied with the conciliatory attitude which mr. gueshoff had shown in the tsaribrod conference. whatever the expiation, mr. gueshoff resigned on june 9. delay and opposition of bulgaria on that very day the czar summoned the kings of bulgaria and servia to submit their disputes to his decision. while this demand was based on a specific provision of the servo-bulgarian treaty, his majesty also urged it on the ground of devotion to the slav cause. this pro-slav argument provoked much criticism in austro-hungarian circles which {98} resented bitterly the assumption of slav hegemony in balkan affairs. however, on june 12 bulgaria and servia accepted russian arbitration. but the terms were not agreed upon. while mr. venizelos and mr. pashitch impatiently awaited the summons to st. petersburg they could get no definite information of the intentions of the bulgarian government. and the rivalry of austria-hungary and russia for predominance in the balkans was never more intense than at this critical moment. on june 14 dr. daneff was appointed prime minister in succession to mr. gueshoff. he had represented bulgaria in the london peace conference where his aggressive and uncompromising attitude had perturbed his fellow delegates from the other balkan states and provoked some criticism in the european press. he was known as a russophil. and he seems now to have got assurance from russia that she would maintain the bulgarian view of the treaty with servia, although she {99} had at one time favored the servian demand for an extensive revision of it. certainly dr. daneff voiced the views and sentiments of the bulgarian army and nation. i was in sofia the week before the outbreak of the war between the allies. and the two points on which everybody insisted were, first, that servia must be compelled to observe the treaty of partition, and, secondly, that central macedonia must be annexed to bulgaria. for these things all bulgarians were ready to fight. and flushed with their great victories over the main army of turkey they believed it would be an easy task to overpower the forces of servia and greece. for the greeks they entertained a sort of contempt; and as for the servians, had they not already defeated them completely at slivnitza in 1886? men high in the military service of the nation assured me that the bulgarian army would be in belgrade in eight days after war was declared. the greeks too would quickly be driven out of saloniki. the idea of {100} a conference to decide the territorial question in dispute between the allies found no favor in any quarter. now it is important that full justice should be done to bulgaria. as against servia, if servia had stood alone, she might have appealed to the sanctity and inviolability of treaties. circumstances had indeed changed since the treaty was negotiated. but was that a good reason, bulgaria might have asked, why she should be excluded from central macedonia which the treaty guaranteed to her? was that a good reason why she should not emancipate her macedonian brethren for whose sake she had waged a bloody and costly war with turkey? the bulgarians saw nothing in the problem but their treaty with servia and apparently cared for no territorial compensation without central macedonia. {101} bulgaria's uncompromising policy the bulgarians were blind to all facts and considerations but the abstract terms of the treaty with servia. it was a fact, however, that the war against turkey had been fought by four allies. it was a fact that the ottoman government had ceded european turkey (except albania) to these four allies. no two of the allies could divide between themselves the common possession. a division made by the four allies might contravene the terms of a treaty which existed between any two of the allies prior to the outbreak of the war. in any event it was for the four allies together to effect a distribution of the territory ceded to them by turkey. for that purpose a conference was an essential organ. how otherwise could the four nations reach any agreement? yet the bulgarians--army, government, and nation--were obsessed by the fixed idea that bulgaria enjoyed not only a primacy in this {102} matter but a sort of sovereign monopoly by virtue of which it was her right and privilege to determine how much of the common spoils she should assign servia (with whom she had an ante-bellum treaty), and, after servia had been eliminated, how much she could spare to greece (with whom no treaty of partition existed), and, when greece had been disposed of, whether any crumbs could be flung to montenegro, who had indeed very little to hope for from the bulgarian government. and so bulgaria opposed a conference of the four prime ministers though a conference was the natural, obvious, and necessary method of disposing of the common business pressing upon them. the attitude of bulgaria left no alternative but war. yet the bulgarian government failed to reckon the cost of war. was it not madness for bulgaria to force war upon greece, servia, and montenegro on the west at a time when roumania was making demands for territorial compensation on the north and turkey was {103} sure to seize the occasion to win back territory which bulgaria had just wrested from her on the south? never was a government blinder to the significant facts of a critical situation. all circumstances conspired to prescribe peace as the manifest policy for bulgaria, yet nearly every step taken by the government was provocative of war. the bulgarian army had covered itself with glory in the victorious campaign against the moslem. a large part of european turkey was already in bulgarian hands. to imperil that glory and those possessions by the risk of a new war, when the country was exhausted and new enemies lay in wait, was as foolish as it was criminal. that way madness lay. yet that way the policy pursued by the bulgarian government infallibly led. must we assume that there is some ground for suspecting that austria-hungary was inciting bulgaria to war? we must leave it to history to answer. if the result was a terrible disaster, that was only the old greek nemesis of the {104} gods for the outraged principles of reason and moderation. the conciliatory spirit of greece those principles, thanks to the conciliatory spirit of mr. venizelos, the prime minister, and the steady support of king constantine, who was also commander-in-chief, were loyally followed in greece. a few days after the declaration of war against the ottoman empire, into which greece was precipitately hastened by the unexpected action of servia and bulgaria, the greek foreign minister addressed a communication to the allies on the subject of the division of conquered territory. he traced the line of greek claims, as based on ethnological grounds, and added that, as he foresaw difficulties in the way of a direct adjustment, he thought the disputed points should be submitted to arbitration. but months followed months without bringing from bulgaria any clear reply to this just and reasonable proposal of the greek {105} government. nevertheless, mr. venizelos persisted in his attitude of conciliation toward bulgaria. he made concessions, not only in thrace but in eastern macedonia, for which he was bitterly criticized on the ground of sacrificing vital greek interests to bulgaria. he recognized, as his critics refused to do, that the balkan question could not be settled on ethnological principles alone; one had to take account also of geographical necessities. he saw that the greeks in thrace must be handed over to bulgaria. he demanded only the macedonian territory which the greek forces had actually occupied, including saloniki with an adequate hinterland. as the attitude of bulgaria became more uncompromising, as she pushed her army of occupation further westward, mr. venizelos was even ready to make the river struma the eastern boundary of new greece, and to abandon to bulgaria the aegean littoral between the struma and the mesta rivers including greek cities like kavala, {106} seres, and drama. but these new concessions of mr. venizelos were in danger of alienating from him the support of the greek nation without yielding anything in return from bulgaria. the outbreak of the war between the allies saved him from a difficult political position. yet against that war mr. venizelos strove resolutely to the end. and when in despite of all his efforts war came, he was justified in saying, as he did say to the national parliament, that the greeks had the right to present themselves before the civilized world with head erect because this new war which was bathing with blood the balkan peninsula had not been provoked by greece or brought about by the demand of greece to receive satisfaction for all her ethnological claims. and this position in which he had placed his country was, he proudly declared, a "moral capital" of the greatest value. {107} bulgaria begins hostilities bulgaria's belated acceptance of russian arbitration was not destined to establish peace. yet dr. daneff, the prime minister, who received me on june 27 and talked freely of the balkan situation (perhaps the more freely because in this conversation it transpired that we had been fellow students together at the university of heidelberg), decided on june 28 not to go to war with the allies. yet that very evening at eight o'clock, unknown to dr. daneff, an order in cipher and marked "very urgent" was issued by general savoff to the commander of the fourth army directing him on the following evening to attack the servians "most vigorously along the whole front." on the following afternoon, the 29th, general savoff issued another order to the army commanders giving further instructions for attacks on the servians and greeks, including an attack on saloniki, stating that these attacks were {108} taking place "without any official declaration of war," and that they were undertaken in order to accustom the bulgarian army to regard their former allies as enemies, to hasten the activities of the russian government, to compel the former allies to be more conciliatory, and to secure new territories for bulgaria! who was responsible for this deplorable lack of harmony between the civil government and the military authorities has not yet been officially disclosed. did general savoff act on his own responsibility? or is there any truth in the charge that king ferdinand after a long consultation with the austro-hungarian minister instructed the general to issue the order? dr. daneff knew nothing of it, and though he made every effort to stop the resulting hostilities, the dogs of war had been let loose and could not now be torn from one another's throats. there had been sporadic fighting in macedonia between the allies for some months past. greece and servia had concluded an anti-bulgarian {109} alliance on june 1. they also entered into a convention with roumania by which that power agreed to intervene in case of war between the late allies. and war having been declared, roumania seized silistria at midnight, july 10. meanwhile the servian and greek forces were fighting the bulgarians hard at kilkis, doiran, and other points between the varclar and the struma. and, as if bulgaria had not enemies enough on her back already, the turkish army on july 12 left the chataldja fortifications, crossed the enos-midia line, and in less than two weeks, with enver bey at its head, re-occupied adrianople. bulgaria was powerless to stop the further advance of the turks, nor had she forces to send against the roumanians who marched unopposed through the neighboring country till sofia itself was within their power. no nation could stand up against such fearful odds. dr. daneff resigned on july 15. {110} and the new ministry had to make the best terms it could. terms of peace a peace conference met at bukarest on july 28, and peace was signed on august 10. by this treaty of bukarest servia secured not only all that part of macedonia already under her occupation but gained also an eastward extension beyond the doiran-istib-kochana line into purely bulgarian territory. greece fared still better under the treaty; for it gave her not only all the macedonian lands she had already occupied but extended her domain on the aegean littoral as far east as the mouth of the mesta and away into the interior as far above seres and drama as they are from the sea,--thus establishing the northern frontier of new greece from lake presba (near the eastern boundary of albania) on a northward-ascending line past ghevgheli and doiran to kainchal in thrace on the other {111} side of the mesta river. this assignment of territory conquered from turkey had the effect of shutting out bulgaria from the western aegean; and the littoral left to bulgaria between the mesta river and the turkish boundary has no harbor of any consequence but dedeagach, which is much inferior to kavala. the new turkish boundary was arranged by negotiations between the bulgarian and ottoman governments. the terminus on the black sea was pushed north from midia almost up to the southern boundary of bulgaria. enos remained the terminus on the aegean. but the two termini were connected by a curved line which after following the maritza river to a point between sufli and dimotika then swung in a semicircle well beyond adrianople to bulgaria and the black sea. thus bulgaria was compelled to cede back to the asiatic enemy not only adrianople but the battlefields of kirk kilisse, lule burgas, and chorlu on which {112} her brave soldiers had won such magnificent victories over the moslems. the attitude of roumania the treaty of bukarest marked the predominance of roumania in balkan affairs. and of course roumania had her own reward. she had long coveted the northeastern corner of bulgaria, from turtukai on the danube to baltchik on the black sea. and this territory, even some miles beyond that line, bulgaria was now compelled to cede to her by the treaty. it is a fertile area with a population of some 300,000 souls, many of whom are turks. the claim of roumania to compensation for her neutrality during the first balkan war was severely criticized by the independent press of western europe. it was first put forward in the london peace conference, but rejected by dr. daneff, the bulgarian delegate. but the roumanian government persisted in pressing the claim, and the powers finally decided to {113} mediate, with the result that the city of silistria and the immediately adjoining territory were assigned to roumania. neither state was satisfied with the award and the second balkan war broke out before the transfer had been effected. this gave roumania the opportunity to enforce her original claim, and, despite the advice of austria-hungary, she used it, as we have already seen. the roumanian government justifies its position in this matter by two considerations. in the first place, as roumania was larger and more populous than any of the balkan states, the roumanian nation could not sit still with folded arms while bulgaria wrested this pre-eminence from her. and if bulgaria had not precipitated a war among the allies, if she had been content with annexing the portion of european turkey which she held under military occupation, new bulgaria would have contained a greater area and a larger population than roumania. the roumanians claim, {114} accordingly, that the course they pursued was dictated by a legitimate and vital national interest. and, in the second place, as greeks, servians, and bulgarians based their respective claims to macedonian territory on the racial character of the inhabitants, roumania asserted that the presence of a large roumanian (or vlach) population in that disputed region gave her an equally valid claim to a share in the common estate. in all macedonia there may be some 100,000 vlachs, though roumanian officials put the number much higher. many of them are highland shepherds; others engage in transportation with trains of horses or mules; those in the lowlands are good farmers. they are found especially in the mountains and valleys between thessaly and albania. they are generally favorable to the greek cause. most of them speak greek as well as roumanian; and they are all devoted members of the greek orthodox church. yet there has been a roumanian {115} propaganda in macedonia since 1886, and the government at bukarest has devoted large sums to the maintenance of roumanian schools, of which the maximum number at any time has perhaps not exceeded forty. now if every other nation--greek, servian, bulgarian--which had hitherto maintained its propaganda of schools and churches in macedonia, was to bring its now emancipated children under the benign sway of the home government and also was to annex the macedonian lands which they occupied, why, roumania asked, should she be excluded from participation in the arrangement? she did not, it is true, join the allies in fighting the common moslem oppressor. but she maintained a benevolent neutrality. and since macedonia is not conterminous with roumania, she was not seeking to annex any portion of it. yet the rights those roumanians in macedonia gave her should be satisfied. and so arguing, the roumanian government claimed as a _quid pro {116} quo_ the adjoining northeastern corner of bulgaria, permitting bulgaria to recoup herself by the uncontested annexation of thrace and eastern macedonia. such was the roumanian reasoning. certainly it bore hard on bulgaria. but none of the belligerents showed any mercy on bulgaria. war is a game of ruthless self-interest. it was bulgaria who appealed to arms and she now had to pay the penalty. her losses enriched all her neighbors. what lord bacon says of individuals is still more true of nations: the folly of one is the fortune of another, and none prospers so suddenly as by others' errors. the work and reward of montenegro i have already sufficiently described the territorial gains of roumania, servia, and greece. but i must not pass over montenegro in silence. as the invincible warriors of king nicholas opened the war against the ottoman empire, so they joined servia and greece in the struggle {117} against bulgaria. on sunday, june 29, i saw encamped across the street from my hotel in uskub 15,000 of these montenegrin soldiers who had arrived only a day or two before by train from mitrowitza, into which they had marched across novi bazar. tall, lithe, daring, with countenances bespeaking clean lives, they looked as fine a body of men as one could find anywhere in the world, and their commanding figures and manly bearing were set off to great advantage by their striking and picturesque uniforms. the officers told me next day that in a few hours they would be fighting at ghevgheli. their splendid appearance seemed an augury of victory for the serbs. montenegro too received her reward by an extension of territory on the south to the frontier of albania (as fixed by the great powers) and a still more liberal extension on the east in the sandjak of novi bazar. this patriarchal kingdom will probably remain unchanged so long as the present king lives, {118} the much-beloved king nicholas, a genuinely homeric father of his people. but forces of an economic, social, and political character are already at work tending to draw it into closer union with servia, and the balkan wars have given a great impetus to these forces. a united serb state, with an adriatic littoral which would include the harbors of antivari and dulcigno, may be the future which destiny has in store for the sister kingdoms of servia and montenegro. if so, it is likely to be a mutually voluntary union; and neither austria-hungary nor italy, the warders of the adriatic, would seem to have any good ground to object to such a purely domestic arrangement. the problem of albania the albanians, though they rather opposed than assisted the allies in the war against turkey, were set off as an independent nation by the great powers at the instigation of austria-hungary with the support of italy. the {119} determination of the boundaries of the new state was the resultant of conflicting forces in operation in the european concert. on the north while scutari was retained for albania through the insistence of austria-hungary, russian influence was strong enough to secure the albanian centres of ipek and djakova and prisrend, as well as dibra on the east, for the allied serb states. this was a sort of compensation to servia for her loss of an adriatic outlet at a time when the war between the allies, which was destined so greatly to extend her territories, was not foreseen. but while in this way albanians were excluded from the new state on the north and east, an incongruous compensation was afforded it on the south by an unjustifiable extension into northern epirus, whose population is prevailingly greek. the location of the boundary between albania and new greece was forced upon the great powers by the stand of italy. during the first war the greeks had occupied epirus or southern {120} albania as far north as a line drawn from a point a little above khimara on the coast due east toward lake presba, so that the cities of tepeleni and koritza were included in the greek area. but italy protested that the greek occupation of territory on both sides of the straits of corfu would menace the control of the adriatic and insisted that the boundary between albania and greece should start from a point on the coast opposite the southern part of the island of corfu. greece, accordingly, was compelled to evacuate most of the territory she had occupied above janina. and albania subsequently attempted to assert her jurisdiction over it. but the task of albania is bound to be difficult. for though the great powers have provided it with a ruler--the german prince william of wied--there is no organized state. the albanians are one of the oldest races in europe, if not the oldest. but they have never created a state. and to-day they are hopelessly {121} divided. it is a land of universal opposition--north against south, tribe against tribe, bey against bey. the majority of the population are mohammedan but there are many roman catholics in the north and in the south the greek orthodox church is predominant. the inhabitants of the north, who are called ghegs, are divided into numerous tribes whose principal occupation is fighting with one another under a system of perpetual blood-feuds and inextinguishable vendettas. there are no tribes in the south, but the people, who are known as tosks, live under territorial magnates called beys, who are practically the absolute rulers of their districts. the country as a whole is a strange farrago of survivals of primitive conditions. and it is not only without art and literature, but without manufactures or trade or even agriculture. it is little wonder that the greeks of epirus feel outraged by the destiny which the european powers have imposed upon them--to be torn {122} from their own civilized and christian kindred and subjected to the sway of the barbarous mohammedans who occupy albania. nor is it surprising that since hellenic armies have evacuated northern epirus in conformity with the decree of the great powers, the inhabitants of the district, all the way from santi quaranta to koritza, are declaring their independence and fighting the albanians who attempt to bring them under the yoke. the future of albania is full of uncertainty. the state, however, was not created for the albanians, who for the rest, are not in a condition to administer or maintain it. the state was established in the interests of austria-hungary and italy. and those powers are likely to shape its future. the aegean islands and crete for the sacrifice demanded of greece in epirus the great powers permitted her by way of compensation to retain all the aegean islands {123} occupied by her during the war, except imbros, tenedos, and the rabbit islands at the mouth of the dardanelles. these islands, however, greece is never to fortify or convert into naval bases. this allotment of the asiatic islands (which includes all but rhodes and the dodecanese, temporarily held by italy as a pledge of the evacuation of libya by the turkish officers and troops) has given great dissatisfaction in turkey, where it is declared it would be better to have a war with greece than cede certain islands especially chios and mitylene. the question of the disposition of the islands had, however, been committed by turkey to the great powers in the treaty of london. and turkish unofficial condemnation of the action of the powers now creates a dangerous situation. mr. venizelos declared not long ago, with the enthusiastic approval of the chamber, that the security of greece lay alone in the possession of a strong navy. for mr. venizelos personally nothing in all {124} these great events can have been more gratifying than the achievement of the union of crete with greece. this was consummated on december 14, when the greek flag was hoisted on canea fort in the presence of king constantine, the prime minister, and the consuls of the great powers, and saluted with 101 guns by the greek fleet. king constantine fortune in an extraordinary degree has favored the king of the hellenes--fortune and his own wise head and valiant arm and the loyal support of his people. when before has a prince taken supreme command of a nation's army and in the few months preceding and succeeding his accession to the throne by successful generalship doubled the area and population of his country? [illustration: map: the balkan peninsula after the wars of 1912-1913.] {125} cost of the war the balkan wars have been bloody and costly. we shall never know of the thousands of men, women, and children who died from privation, disease, and massacre. but the losses of the dead and wounded in the armies were for montenegro 11,200, for greece 68,000, for servia 71,000, for bulgaria 156,000, and for turkey about the same as for bulgaria. the losses in treasure were as colossal as in blood. only rough computations are possible. but the direct military expenditures are estimated at figures varying from a billion and a quarter to a billion and a half of dollars. this of course takes no account of the paralysis of productive industry, trade, and commerce or of the destruction of existing economic values. yet great and momentous results have been achieved. although seated again in his ancient capital of adrianople, the moslem has been expelled from europe, or at any rate is no {126} longer a european power. for the first time in more than five centuries, therefore, conditions of stable equilibrium are now possible for the christian nations of the balkans. whether the present alignment of those states toward one another and towards the great powers is destined to continue it would be foolhardy to attempt to predict. the future of the balkans but without pretending to cast a horoscope, certain significant facts may be mentioned in a concluding word. if the balkan states are left to themselves, if they are permitted to settle their own affairs without the intervention of the great powers, there is no reason why the existing relations between greece, servia, montenegro, and roumania, founded as they are on mutual interest, should not continue; and if they continue, peace will be assured in spite of bulgaria's cry for revenge and readjustment. the danger lies in the influence of the {127} great powers with their varying attractions and repulsions. france, germany, and great britain, disconnected with the balkans and remote from them, are not likely to exert much direct individual influence. but their connections with the triple alliance and the triple entente would not leave them altogether free to take isolated action. and two other members of those european groups--russia and austria-hungary--have long been vitally interested in the balkan question; while the opposition to servian annexation on the adriatic littoral and of greek annexation in epirus now for the first time reveals the deep concern of italy in the same question. the serbs are slavs. and the unhappy relations between servia and austria-hungary have always intensified their pro-russian proclivities. the roumanians are a romance people, like the french and italians, and they have hitherto been regarded as a balkan extension of the triple alliance. the attitude of {128} austria-hungary, however, during the balkan wars has caused a cooling of roumanian friendship, so that its transference to russia is no longer inconceivable or even improbable. greece desires to be independent of both groups of the european system, but the action of italy in regard to northern epirus and in regard to rhodes and the dodecanese has produced a feeling of irritation and resentment among the greeks which nothing is likely to allay or even greatly alleviate. bulgaria in the past has carried her desire to live an independent national life to the point of hostility to russia, but since stambuloff's time she has shown more natural sentiments towards her great slav sister and liberator. whether the desire of revenge against servia (and greece) will once more draw her toward austria-hungary only time can disclose. in any event it will take a long time for all the balkan states to recover from the terrible exhaustion of the two wars of 1912 and 1913. {129} their financial resources have been depleted; their male population has been decimated. necessity, therefore, is likely to co-operate with the community of interest established by the treaty of bukarest in the maintenance of conditions of stable equilibrium in the balkans. of course the peace-compelling forces operative in the balkan states themselves might be counter-acted by hostile activities on the part of some of the great powers. and there is one danger-point for which the great powers themselves are solely responsible. this, as i have already explained, is albania. an artificial creation with unnatural boundaries, it is a grave question whether this so-called state can either manage its own affairs or live in peace with its serb and greek neighbors. at this moment the greeks of epirus (whom the great powers have transferred to albania) are resisting to the death incorporation in a state which outrages their deepest and holiest sentiments of religion, race, nationality, and humane {130} civilization. on the other hand the hoti and gruda tribes on the north fiercely resent annexation to montenegro (which the great powers have decreed) and threaten to summon to their support other malissori tribes with whom they have had a defensive alliance for several centuries. if prince william of wied is unable to cope with these difficulties, italy and austria-hungary may think it necessary to intervene in albania. but the intervention of either would almost certainly provoke compensatory action on the part of other european powers, especially russia. one can only hope that the great powers may have wisdom granted to them to find a peaceful solution of the embarrassing problem which they have created in setting up the new state of albania. that the albanians themselves will have an opportunity to develop their own national independence i find it impossible to believe. yet i heard in the summer of 1913 at valona from the lips of ismail kemal bey, {131} the head of the provisional government, a most impressive statement of his hopes and aspirations for an independent albania and his faith and confidence in its future, in which he claimed to voice the sentiments of the albanian people. but, as i have already explained, i think it doubtful whether under the most favorable external circumstances the albanians are at present qualified to establish and maintain an independent state. and their destiny is so inextricably entangled with the ambitions of some of the great powers that the experiment stands no chance of getting a fair trial. i heartily wish the circumstances were other than they are. for as an american i sympathize with the aspirations of all struggling nationalities to be free and independent. and my interest in albania is deepened, as the interest of all americans must be deepened, by the fact that a large number of albanians have now found a home in the united states. {133} index abdul hamid ii, misgovernment, 32. adrianople, capture by murad i, 4; left to turkey, 9, 25; holds out against bulgaria, 56; _sine qua non_ at peace conference, 57; captured, 57; question of retention of, 58; reoccupied by turkish army, 109; ceded back to turkey, 111. adriatic, question of supremacy over, 68. aegean islands, greece takes, 52; left to decision of powers, 59; given to greece, 122. albania, montenegrins, 53; to be left to powers, 59; cause of friction, 67; problem of, 118; given a ruler, 120; danger-point of the balkans, 129; northern tribes oppose absorption by montenegro, 130; future of, 131. alexander, prince, of bulgaria, 27. area, see under countries. asen brothers, free bulgaria, 10. athens, recaptured, 22. austria, discusses division of turkey, 7; given bosnia and herzegovina, 27; intervenes in macedonia, 33; demands independent albania, 67, 118; opposes servia, 68; dislikes slav hegemony, 97; interests in balkans, 127. balkan alliance, see balkan states. balkan states, quarrel, 11; peninsula under moslems, 13; massacres in, 25; large part of peninsula lost to turkey, 27; dissensions among, 60; alliance, 34; rival ambitions among, 64; treaty restrictions, 72; causes of war between, 75; previous fighting between, 108; make peace, 110; future, 126. balkan wars, cause of first war, 30; cause of second war, 64; division of fighting, 54; cost, 125. (for progress, see under countries.) basil ii, conquers bulgaria, 10. belgrade, conquered by dushan, 12. berane, massacre at, 36. berlin, treaty of, 21; congress of, 78. blockade, greek, of turkey, 51. boris, accepts christianity, 9. bosnia, conquered by dushan, 12; delegated to austria, 27. bosphorus, turks on, 3. brusa, surrendered, 3. bukarest, see treaty of, and peace conference. bulgaria, independent, 8; suffers most, 8; church, progress, area, 9; under moslem despotism, 11; ravaged by turks, decline, 14; educational movement, 23; exarchate established, 24; revolt against turkey, 25; "big bulgaria," 25; proclaimed independent, 26; astounding progress, 27; area and population, 29; declares war against turkey, 34; alliance with greece, 35; with servia, 35; decide to mobilize, 36; enters thrace, 54; success at kirk kilisse, lule burgas, and chorlu, 55; capture adrianople, 57; disagreement with servia, 65; rivalry with greece, 65; as to division of macedonia, 72; demands that servia observe treaty, 76; claims of, 77; exarchate in macedonia, 81; alleged majority in macedonia, 88; jingoism in, 96; position of, as to arbitration of czar, 99; uncompromising policy, 101; her mistake, 102; opens war, 107; defeat by allies, 109; makes peace, 110; present attitude, 127. byron, lord, volunteer in greece, 21. byzantine empire, falling before turks, 4; annihilates bulgaria under samuel, 10. chataldja, now border of turkey, 8; bulgarians at, 55. chorlu, bulgarians victorious at, 55. christians, defeated by moslems, 5; races quarrel, 11; in macedonia, 31; oppressed, 13. constantine, king, 20; as crown prince, commanding general, 48; success, 50; captures janina, 57; ability and achievements, 124. constantinople, seat of byzantine empire, 4; captured by mohammed ii, 5; left to turkey, 8; russia at gates of, 25. crete, question of, 42; captured by venetians, 43; present condition, 43, 44; becomes autonomous, 44; elects members to greek parliament, 45; process of annexation to greece, 45, 124; turkish sovereignty withdrawn, 59. czar, arbiter of treaty of partition, 95; summons servia and bulgaria to submit their disputes, 97. daneff, dr., prime minister of bulgaria, 98; tries to stop war, 107; rejects roumanian claim, 112; resigns, 109. dushan, stephen, rules servia, 12. eastern roumelia, see roumelia. elassona, greeks win at, 50. england, fleet at navarino, 22; joins russia to reform macedonia, 33; influence, 127. enver bey, heads young turk revolt, 58. "eothen," does not mention bulgaria, 15. epinus holds out, 56; greeks of, resist incorporation in albania, 129. european, aid for greece, 21. evans, sir arthur, excavations in crete, 43. exarchate, bulgarian, 19; sultan's firman, 24; in macedonia, 81. ferdinand, prince, of bulgaria, 27; king, 55, 108. france, fleet at navarino, 22; influence, 127. gabrovo, school of, 23. gallipoli, entry of turks into, 4. george, king of greece, assassinated, 22; experienced ruler, 36; prince, commissioner of crete, 44. germany, influence, 127. gibbon, quoted as to czar simeon, 9. gladstone, denunciation of turkish atrocities, 25. great britain, see england. greece, becomes independent, 7; ecclesiastical domination of slavs, 16; greek millet, 17; ascendancy in bulgaria, 18; influence in turkish empire, 19; war of independence, 21; powers make her independent, 22; boundaries, 28; area and population, 29; causes of war with turkey, 32; declares war, 34; alliance with bulgaria, 35; reorganizes army, 37; near alliance with turkey, 40; cretan question, 42; mobilization, 48; enters macedonia, 49; conquers at sarandaporon, serfidje, elassona, veria, and jenitsa, 50; blockades turkey, 51; captures janina, 57; rivalry with bulgaria, 65; favors servian egress to aegean, 71; question of division of macedonia, 74; propaganda in macedonia, 83; position of division of territory, 104; conciliatory methods, 105; alliance against bulgaria, 108; treaty of peace and extension of territory, 110; annexation of crete, 124; attitude toward italy, 128. gueshoff, agrees to conference of allies, 95; statesman, 96; resigns, 97. hellenism, cause of, 36. hellespont, turks cross, 4. herzegovina, conquered by stephen nemanyo, 11; delegated to austria, 27. "internal organization" in macedonia, 32. ipek, archbishop of, 12. islam, millet of, 16. ismail kemal bey on albania's future, 130. italy holds rhodes, 52; demands independent albania, 67, 118; desires control of adriatic, 69; protests against greece at corfu, 120. janina, holds out, 56; falls, 57. janissaries, 13; revolt, 14. jenitsa, turks defeated at, 50. kara-george, leads servians, 20; dynasty, 21. kiamil pasha, grand vizier, 48; driven out, 58. kilkis, battle of, 109. kirk kilisse, bulgarian victory, 55. kossovo, field of, 4; avenged, 53. kochana, massacre at, 36. kumanovo, servians defeat turks at, 53. lazar, the serb, 4. literary revival in bulgaria, 23. london, see treaty of, and peace conference. lule burgas, bulgarian victory, 55. macedonia, ruled by murad i, 4; cause of first balkan war, 30; question of its division, 72; racial problem, 79, 89; religion in, 81; alleged bulgarian majority in, 88; claims to central portion of, 89. mahmud shevket pasha, grand vizier, 58. massacre, in 1876, 25; at kochana and berane, 36; inflames slavs, 47. mehemet ali, fights against greece, 22. meluna pass, greeks enter, 49. millet, a turkish term, 16. mohammed ii, conquers constantinople, 5. mohammedan, intolerance, 8; balkan peninsula under, 13; incapacity, 31. monastir, captured by serbs, 53. montenegro, remembers kossovo, 5; conquered by nemanyo, 11; independent by treaty of berlin, 27; area and population, 29; declares war against turkey, 34; fires first shot of war, 53; captures scutari, 57; work and reward, 116; inclination toward servia, 118. moslem, see mohammedan. murad i, captures adrianople, 4. navarino, battle of, 22. nazim pasha, murdered, 58. near eastern question, macedonia, 30. nemanyo, stephen, unites servia, 11. nicaea, surrender of, 3. nicholas, king of montenegro, 53; homeric father, 118. nigrita, greeks and bulgarians fight at, 66. novi-bazar, montenegrins in, 53. obrenovich, milosh, leads servians, 20; dynasty, 21. ochrida, location, 9; given bishop, 81; religious division, 88. orkhan, brusa surrenders to, 3. otto, of bavaria, becomes king of greece, 22. ottoman empire, see turkey. pashitch, demands revision of treaty, 95. patriarch, greek, of constantinople, 17. patriarchate restricted, 19, 24. peace conference, at london, 57; at bukarest, 110. peace, terms of, with turkey, 59; between allies, 110. peter, king, 21. phanariots, turkish term, 19. pomaks, become moslem, 14. population, see under countries. porte, see turkey. powers, intervene in greece, 22; recognize bulgarian independence, 26; views of balkan success, 55; meet at london, 57; lack of success, 57; insist on peace, 58; give silistria to roumania, 112; in albania, 119. prilip, serbs capture, 53. racial, division, 30; sympathies, 31; problem in macedonia, 79; fallacies in macedonia, 84; characteristics, 89; in albania, 121. religion, turks divide subjects by, 16; contest in bulgaria, 24; in crete, 43, 44; in macedonia, 81; in albania, 121. roumania, becomes independent, 7; by treaty of berlin, 27; convention with greece and servia, 109; seizes silistria, 109; at treaty of bukarest, 112; justification, 113; attitude toward triple alliance, 127. roumelia, eastern, union with bulgaria, 26; annexation, 78. russia, discusses the division of turkey, 7; fleet at navarino, 22; declares war against turkey, 25; intervention in macedonia, 33; rivalry with austria, 98; interest in balkans, 127. st. petersburg, conference of allies at, 95. saloniki, left to turkey, 9; conquered by greeks, 51; desirability, 70. samuel, reigns in bulgaria, 10. san stefano, treaty of, 25; destroyed by powers, 26. sarandaporon, turks driven from, 50. savoff, general, orders attacks on servians and greeks, 107. scutari holds out, 56; falls, 57; to albania, 119. serbs, see servia. serfidje, greeks capture, 50. servia, remembers kossovo, 5; independent, 7; conquers bulgaria, under asen, 10; become christian, launch a dynasty, 11; decline, 14; throws off turkish yoke, 20; independence by treaty of berlin, 27; area and population, 29; bands in macedonia, 32; declares war against turkey, 34; alliance with bulgaria, 35; decide to mobilize, 36; enter macedonia, 53; victorious, at kumanovo, prilip, and monastir, 53; differences with bulgaria, 64; desire to reach adriatic, 68; recoils to aegean, 70; question of division of macedonia, 72; propaganda in macedonia, 82; attitude of, 92; jingoism in, 96; position of, 100; alliance against bulgaria, 108; her enlargement of territory under the treaty of bukarest, 110; affiliations with russia, 127. shishman, czar, dies, 11. silistria, taken by roumania, 109; awarded by powers, 113. slavs, unsubdued, 4; all under moslems, 13; hostility to greeks, 18; indignation against turkey, 47; racial characteristics in macedonia, 89. suleyman the magnificent, 5. thrace, ruled by murad i, 4; location, 54; entered by bulgarians, 54. treaty of berlin, recognizes servian independence, etc., 21; of bukarest, 110; of london, short lived, 58; eliminates turkey, 63; of partition, between servia and bulgaria, 64; of san stefano, created "big bulgaria," 25; torn up by powers, 26. triple alliance, influence, 127. triple entente, influence, 127. trnovo capital of bulgaria, 10; burned, 11. tsaribrod, interview at, 95. turkey, empire in europe, 3; armies go to danube, 4; becomes central european power, 5; treatment of subjects, 6; decline and division, 7; driven from europe, 8; oppression, 13; troops ravage bulgaria, 14; reconquers greece, 22; european, how divided, 28; area and population, 29; frustrates treaty of berlin, 32; war against by balkans, 34; blockaded by greece, 51; at mercy of allies, 56; at peace conference, 57; accepts peace, 57; driven from europe, 59; reoccupies adrianople, 109; final boundary of turkey in europe, 111; no longer european power, 125; asiatic, next danger-point, 129. uskub, dushan crowned at, 12; given bishop, 81. venizelos, prime minister of greece, 37; criticism of and defense, 40; his predicament, 46; suggests conference of allies, 95; conciliatory position, 104. veria, greeks enter, 50. vienna, suleyman at gates of, 5; siege of, 14. vilayet, turkish term, 28. vlachs, in macedonia, 114. william, of wied, king of albania, 120. young turks, rule, 33; reject proposals of venizelos, 47; forced out, 48; depose kiamil pasha, 58. zaimis, succeeds prince george in crete, 45. generously made available by internet archive (https://archive.org) note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see 56023-h.htm or 56023-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/56023/56023-h/56023-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/56023/56023-h.zip) images of the original pages are available through internet archive. see https://archive.org/details/viennahistorycons00mald vienna 1683 the history and consequences of the defeat of the turks before vienna, september 12, 1683 by john sobieski, king of poland and charles leopold, duke of lorraine by henry elliot malden london kegan paul, trench & co., 1, paternoster square 1883 "think of that age's awful birth, when europe echoed, terror-riven, that a new foot was on the earth, and a new name come down from heaven when over calpe's straits and steeps the moor had bridged his royal road, and othman's sons from asia's deeps the conquests of the cross o'erflowed. * * * * * "think with what passionate delight the tale was told in christian halls, how sobieski turned to flight the muslim from vienna's walls; how, when his horse triumphant trod the burghers' richest robes upon, the ancient words rose loud, 'from god a man was sent whose name was john.'" lord houghton. (_the rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved._) preface. the historical scholar will find nothing new in the following pages; but i have thought it worth while to tell to the general reader a story worth the telling, and to explain not only the details, but the wider bearings also, of a great crisis in european history, no satisfactory account of which exists, i believe, in english, and the two hundredth anniversary of which is now upon us. my principal authorities are "sobieski's letters to his queen," edited by count plater, paris, 1826; starhemberg's "life and despatches," edited by count thürheim, vienna, 1882; "campaigns of prince eugene, of savoy," vienna, 1876, etc.; schimmer's "sieges of vienna;" von hammer's "history of the turks;" salvandy's "history of poland;" "memoirs of eugene," by de ligne; "memoirs of charles, duke of lorraine, and his military maxims," published late in the seventeenth century; "works of montecuculi;" de la guillatière's "view of the present state of the turkish empire, etc.," translated, london, 1676, etc. i have been obliged to reject some statements of salvandy's, such, for instance, as that the _crescent moon_ was eclipsed on the day of the battle before vienna. i regret that i have been unable to use the account of the campaign of 1683 published in vienna, by the director of the war archives, since this went to press. some of the matter of it is, i believe, contained in the "campaigns of eugene," published under the same authority mentioned above, and in schimmer's work. kitlands, 1883. synopsis of events. 1663. ahmed kiuprili grand vizier. 1664. montecuculi defeats the turks at st. gotthard. twenty years' truce with austria, by which the turks retain most of hungary. 1669. the turks take candia from the venetians. 1671. conspiracy in hungary against the emperor crushed. 1672. french attack upon holland provokes a general war. treaty of buksacs between the turks and poles. poland cedes most of podolia and the ukraine, and pays tribute to turkey. 1673. the polish nobles break the treaty. great victory of sobieski over the turks at choczim. 1675. sobieski crowned king of poland. 1676. treaty of zurawna between turks and poles; the former retain most of their conquests. 1677. death of ahmed kiuprili. kara mustapha grand vizier. 1678. tekeli heads an insurrection in hungary against the emperor. the french intrigue with him. 1678-79. treaties of nimuegen between the french and the allies. 1681. louis xiv. seizes strassburg and makes other aggressions upon the empire. treaty between holland and sweden against france. 1682. treaty of laxenberg between the emperor and the upper german circles against france, followed by similar treaties between the other circles, the emperor and sweden. the turks openly aid the hungarians. 1683. league of the empire, poland and the pope, supported by other anti-french powers, against the turks. turkish invasion of austria. siege of vienna. defeat of the turks by john sobieski and the duke of lorraine, september 12. the french attack the spanish netherlands in the autumn. 1684. truce of ratisbon between france and the empire. 1686. buda recovered from the turks. league of augsburg between the emperor and the circles of western germany, joined ultimately by spain, holland, the pope, savoy and other princes of the empire, against the french. 1688. the english revolution secures england for the side of the league, which she joins next year. general war with france follows. 1696. death of sobieski. 1697. treaty of ryswick between france and the allies. eugene defeats the turks at zenta, in hungary. 1699. peace of carlowitz. the turks cede nearly all hungary, transylvania, podolia, the ukraine, the morea and azof. the first great diminution of turkish territory in europe. vienna. 1683. chapter i. at the present moment, in 1883, the power of austria is driven as a wedge into the midst of the former dominions of the sultan. that this is so, perhaps that austria even exists as a great power, and can hope to be a greater in south-eastern europe, is owing in no small degree to the polish aid which in 1683 defeated the turkish armies before the gates, and saved vienna. the victor, john sobieski, king of poland, then deserved and enjoyed the gratitude of christendom. but the unequal fate of a man great in character and in abilities, but born out of due time, in an incongruous age and in a state unworthy of him, has seldom been more conspicuously illustrated than in his career. the great men of the last quarter of the seventeenth century whom we most readily remember are men of western europe. louis xiv., with the resources of france behind him, william iii., wielding the power of england, of holland, and of protestant germany, are the kings who fill the stage. the half-crazy hero, charles xii. of sweden, is a more familiar character than the great polish king, the deliverer first of poland, secondly of germany, perhaps of europe. the causes are not far to seek. the country which he ruled has disappeared from the roll of european nations. the enemy whom he defeated has become, in his last decrepitude, the object merely of scorn, or of not disinterested care. it seems now so incredible that the turks should have been a menace to europe, that it is no great claim to remembrance to have defeated them. sobieski, too, in his greatness and in his weakness, was a mediæval hero. he was out of place in the age of louis xiv. he was a great soldier rather than a great general, a national hero rather than a great king. his faith had the robust sincerity of that of a thirteenth-century knight, his character was marred by the violent passions of a mediæval baron. his head was full of crusading projects--of the expulsion of the turks, of the revival of a catholic greek state, not without principalities for his own house. his plans would have commanded support in the days of st. louis, but were impracticable in a europe whose rulers schemed for a balance of power. poland herself perished, partly through clinging to a mediæval constitution in the midst of modern states. her mediævally-minded king and his exploits are eclipsed by other memories, even upon the scene of his greatest achievement. for the traveller who from the tower of st. stephen's, in the centre of the old-town of vienna, looks down upon the places made remarkable by great historic actions in the valley of the danube, has his eye turned first northward and eastward upon the marchfeld. there, he is told, are aspern and essling, where the archduke charles beat napoleon in 1809. there is the island of lobau, where napoleon repaired his forces, and whence he issued to fight yonder the great and terrible conflict of wagram. the scene, not of a greater slaughter, not of a more obstinately contested fight, than wagram, but the scene of a battle more momentous in its consequences, lies upon the other side. among the vineyards, villages, and chateaux which cover the lower slopes of the wiener wald, among the suburbs of nussdorf and of hernals, charles of lorraine and john sobieski smote the turkish armies in 1683. there at one blow they frustrated the last great mohammedan aggression against christendom, and set free the minds and arms of the germans to combine against french ambition upon their western frontier. the victory was one of those decisive events which complete long pending revolutions, and inaugurate new political conditions in europe. the treaties of nimuegen in 1678-79 had marked a pause in a general european contest. france and the empire, holland, spain, sweden, brandenberg, all retired from their active conflicts, to plot and strive in secret, till an advantageous opening for war should again present itself. poland and the porte had a little earlier concluded their strife by the peace of zurawna. but in the general breathing-time the eyes of all were turned with anxiety upon eastern europe. so much of hungary as was not in the hands of the sultan was in insurrection against the emperor. the insolence of the turks, and their support to the insurgents, were continually becoming greater. the whole east resounded with warlike preparations, and it was without doubt evident that a great enterprise was being prepared which might make the reign of mahomet iv. as illustrious for islam, as calamitous for christendom, as that of mahomet ii. had been. rome, venice, vienna, were the three capitals in more immediate danger, but the whole continent was interested, and all other designs were necessarily suspended till it became clearer where this storm would fall, and what resistance could be made to it. for, two hundred years ago, the ottoman empire still stood high among the greatest of european powers. spain ruled over wider territories; but the dominions of spain were scattered over the old and new worlds, and her european lands, in the netherlands and in italy, were divided from her by the sea, or isolated by the interposition of the frontiers of powerful and often hostile neighbours. a compact yet widely spread collection of kingdoms and of provinces obeyed the head of the mohammedan world. northern africa, western asia, eastern europe were ruled from the bosphorus. all the chief centres of ancient civilization, rome alone excepted, thebes, nineveh and babylon, carthage, athens and constantinople, bowed beneath the crescent. the southern frontiers of the sultan's territories reached beyond the tropic of cancer, the northern touched nearly the latitude of paris. the modern kingdoms of greece, servia, roumania were wholly his; the kingdom of hungary, the dominions of austria and of russia were in part his also. the black sea was entirely encircled with turkish or tributary territory; no other power possessed the same extent of coast line on the mediterranean. not only the euphrates, the tigris, the nile, but the danube, the boug, the dneister, the dneiper and the don flowed for a great part of their course between banks subject or tributary to the porte, and reached the sea by mouths wholly under turkish control. [illustration: _territory ceded by turkey in 1699._] the armies of the sultan were unapproachable in numbers, unsurpassable in valour, by those of the christian powers. their discipline and warlike science were no longer what they once had been, the first in europe; but their inequality in these respects to their enemies was not yet so marked as at present. military and administrative skill were yet to be found in their empire. from the first appearance of the turks in europe mohammedan rule had been, on the whole, extending. the christian reconquest of spain was balanced by the inroads of this new enemy upon the eastern empire. the spanish reconquest of grenada, in the fifteenth century, was more than counterbalanced by the turkish conquest of hungary in the sixteenth. the turks upon the middle danube were a menace at once to poland, germany, and to northern italy. nor was this a mere temporary inroad of theirs. two-thirds of hungary were then more firmly held in their grasp than macedonia is at present, and their frontiers were not going back. in the seventeenth century the ottoman power still more than held its own in eastern europe. though the spaniards and venetians had destroyed their fleet at lepanto in 1571, though montecuculi at the head of the imperial troops had routed their armies at st. gotthard in 1664, though sobieski and the poles made the great slaughter of choczim in 1673, yet the frontiers of the turks were advanced by every war. after lepanto, the peace confirmed them in the possession of the newly acquired cyprus; after st. gotthard, they retained the strong city of neuhausel, which they had just won, in hungary, and conquered candia; after choczim, they were confirmed in their possession of the province of podolia, and their supremacy over the ukraine, the marchland of poland. of their soldiers the most formidable were the janissaries. the policy of the earlier sultans had demanded a tribute of boys from their christian subjects. these children, early converts to islam, were brought up with no home but the camp, no occupation but war; and, under the title of janissaries, or the new troops, were alternately the servants and the masters of the ottoman sultans. the strength of the christians was drained, the strength of the ottoman armies multiplied, and the fields of paradise replenished at once, in the judgment of pious mussulmans, by this policy. at this time the ranks of the janissaries were not solely filled by this levy, but it has been computed that 500,000 christian boys may have become instruments for the subjugation of christendom, from the first institution of the tax in the fourteenth century down to the final levy made in 1675. our commiseration for the christian parents may be mitigated by the consideration that to sell their children into slavery, uncompelled, was a not unknown practice among the subjects of the eastern emperors, before the mohammedan conquest. these janissaries formed a disciplined body of regular infantry. in the seventeenth century the turks clung to the sabre, the musket, and even bows and arrows, as their arms, neglecting the pike, "the queen of infantry weapons," as montecuculi calls it, just as afterwards they neglected the bayonet. but in the use of their arms every man of the janissaries was a trained expert. the turkish horsemen were famed for their rapidity of action, being generally more lightly armed and better mounted than the germans or poles. the spahis, or royal horseguards, were the flower of the cavalry. the feudal levy from lands held by military tenure, swelled the numbers of their armies, and every province wrested from the christians provided more fiefs to support fresh families of soldiers. thus the children and lands of the conquered furnished the means for new conquests. light troops, who were expected to live by plunder, spread far and wide before an advancing ottoman host, eating up the country, destroying the inhabitants, and diverting the attention of the enemy. the ottoman artillery was numerous, and the siege pieces of great calibre. auxiliaries, such as the tartars of the crimea, the troops of moldavian, wallachian, transylvanian, and even hungarian princes, made a formidable addition to their forces. these armies lay, a terror to the inhabitants, a constant anxiety to the rulers, upon the frontiers of germany and of poland;--a black storm of war, ever ready to break in destructive energy upon them. whatever schism divided turks and persians, towards europe at least, from the caspian to morocco, islam presented an unbroken front, contrasting powerfully with the bitter divisions of christendom. massinger, in the "renegade," puts into the mouth of a moslem what many a christian must have thought of with shame and terror:- "look on our flourishing empire, if the splendour, the majesty, and glory of it dim not your feeble sight; and then turn back and see the narrow bounds of yours, yet that poor remnant, rent in as many factions and opinions as you have petty kingdoms."[1] united islam, which had preceded her western rival spain in greatness, seemed also destined to long outlive that power's decay. when spain, in the sixteenth century, had been at the zenith of her power under charles v., the turks, under their great emperor solyman, had been not unworthy rivals to her. even then solyman had penetrated to the walls of vienna, in 1529, and probably the lateness of the season, october, and the absence of his heavy artillery, stuck deep in the soil of hungarian roads, saved the capital of the austrian dominions more effectually than the valour of the garrison or the relieving forces of charles could have done. then the tide of turkish power touched its farthest limit, but the fear of its return was not destroyed till after the lapse of one hundred and fifty years. till after the siege of 1683, it is said that a crescent disgraced the spire of st. stephen's, the cathedral of vienna--a sign to avert the fire of turkish gunners. in the seventeenth century, when the great empire of spain was fast approaching dissolution, when france was the great power of western europe, the turks were still the great power of the east, with territories even more widely extended than in the previous age. it is true that, after the death of solyman, a series of incapable rulers and the natural decay of an eastern despotism had paralyzed the great powers of turkey; but the stern reforming vigour of amurath iv. (1623-40), and, still more, the wise administration of the first two grand viziers of the house of kiuprili, had done much to restore good government, vigour and efficiency to the ottomans.[2] their empire, the speedy downfall of which had been predicted by the english ambassador, sir thomas roe, at the beginning of the seventeenth century, had since fully recovered its former reputation. a clever frenchman, m. de la guillatière, who visited the camp of kiuprili in candia in 1669, formed the highest estimate of the military genius of the turks, and of their political insight into the power and designs of the christians. he judged of the greatness of the sultan by considering the number and quality of the persons who feared his displeasure. "when he makes any great preparation, malta trembles, spain is fearful for his kingdoms of naples and sicily, the venetian anxious for what he holds in greece--dalmatia and friuli, the germans apprehensive for what remains to them in hungary, poland is alarmed, and the consternation passes on as far as muscovy, and, not resting there, expands itself to the christian princes in gourgistan and mingrelia; persia, arabia, the abyssinians are all in confusion, whilst neither man nor woman nor beast in all this vast tract but looks out for refuge till they be certain whither his great force is intended."[3] it is a striking estimate of turkish power, but not beyond what experience confirmed. it was not till the second siege of vienna, and her relief by sobieski in 1683, that the real instability of the power of the sultan was disclosed, that his armies were routed, his frontiers curtailed, his power rolled back within the save and the carpathians. not for the first time, in the summer of that year, europe trembled at the progress of the crescent. since then, the tide of victory has run almost uninterruptedly in favour of the cross, and turkey has sunk from being the terror to the position of protégée, tool, victim, or tolerated scandal of europe. the decline of her forces, the reversal of the former position of turk and christian in the east, date from this great catastrophe of islam. for eastern europe at least the battle before vienna was a decisive battle. we must remember, indeed, what is meant by a decisive battle, or by any other so-called decisive event. they are rather the occasions than the causes of the transference of power. the causes lie deep which can produce such great and such lasting results. the operation of many influences, throughout a length of time, brings about ultimately the striking revolutions in the history of mankind. no chance bullet which strikes down, or avoids, a commander; no brilliant display of military genius in the person of one man; no incapacity of a single officer, can do more than alter the minor circumstances of great events. the great man is not successfully great, unless his genius can seize upon the opportunities offered by a rising tide of popular opinion, or profit by the accumulated energy of a nation. the incapable leader can seldom make shipwreck of a power unless it be built upon unsafe lines. the presence of a thoroughly incapable commander argues something rotten in his cause. the revolution, the reformation, the reaction, the transference of empire will come; if not in one way, in another; if not in one year, in the next, or in following years. the foundations of success and of failure, are laid deep in the moral, religious and political habits and institutions of nations. the invincible determination and high political and military training of the roman aristocracy bore them safely through the catastrophes of a second punic war and the revolt of their allies. the ordered liberty, and the generations of successful adventure, which were the heritage of the english nation, had won trafalgar before a shot had been fired from the _victory_. the persian host went forth predestined to choke the gulf of salamis with corpses. no kosciusko's valour could redeem the long anarchy and blindness of poland. napoleon, marching from victory to victory, but approached the nearer to that fall, which must await one man against a continent in arms. so the turkish myriads, victorious at vienna, would have fallen upon some less noble field before the skill of some other sobieski. but the genius and courage of individuals may well determine the fate of armies for a day. one day's victory may call for years of warfare to accomplish its undoing. a few years of delay may work great changes in the fortunes of men. it is no mistaken estimate of the relative value of causes, it is no unintelligent interest which makes us prone to linger over the one dramatic moment--that moment when the courses of the tendencies of ages are declared within the compass of a day. by no hard effort of imagination we identify our interest with that of the actors in the scene. to them, however confident, the result is never clear; to them the delay of a few years in the overthrow of some inevitably falling wrong may make that difference for which no ultimate success can compensate. it was cold comfort to the inhabitants of vienna, or to the king of poland, to know that even if st. stephen's had shared the fate of st. sophia and become a mosque of allah, and if the polish standards had been borne in triumph to the bosphorus, yet that, nevertheless, the undisciplined ottomans would infallibly have been scattered by french, german and swedish armies on the fields of bavaria or of saxony. vienna would have been sacked; poland would have been a prey to internal anarchy and to tartar invasion. the ultimate triumph of their cause would have consoled few for their individual destruction. prompted by feelings such as these we dwell upon the decisive hours, when the long assured superiority asserts itself, for good and all. we can hail marathon, salamis, tours, or vienna as the occasion, if not the cause, of the triumph of civilization over barbarism, of europe over asia. we must remember, too, that, if the day for a permanent advance of turkish power was over, yet that a temporary turkish victory, and a protracted war in germany, could not have been confined in their influence to the seat of war alone. so cool and experienced a diplomatist as sir william temple did indeed believe, at the time, that the fall of vienna would have been followed by a great and permanent increase of turkish power.[4] putting this aside however, there were other results likely to spring from turkish success. the turks constantly made a powerful diversion in favour of france and her ambitious designs. turkish victories upon the one side of germany meant successful french aggressions upon the other, and turkish schemes were promoted with that object by the french. the author of the memoirs of prince eugene writes bitterly, but truly enough, of this crisis: "_le roi très-chrétien avant d'être dévot, secourait les chrétiens contre les infidèles_ (at st. gotthard and at candia), _devenu pourtant un grand homme de bien, il les agaçait contre l'empereur, et soutenait les rebelles de hongrie. sans lui ils ne seraient jamais venus, les uns et les autres, aux portes de vienne._" "if france would but stand neutral, the controversy between turks and christians might soon be decided," says the duke of lorraine. but france would not stand neutral. footnotes: [1] "renegade," act. iv. sc. 3. [2] ahmed kiuprili, the second vizier of his race, was one of the greatest ministers of his day. he was described by the turkish historians as "the light and splendour of the nation, the preserver and administrator of good laws, the vicar of the shadow of god, the thrice learned and all accomplished grand vizier." he seems to have really deserved some of the praise. [3] de la guillatière, "account of a late voyage, etc., and state of the turkish empire." trans. 1676. [4] "if the turks had possessed this bulwark of christendom (vienna), i do not conceive what could have hindered them from being masters immediately of austria, and all its depending provinces; nor, in another year, of all italy, or of the southern provinces of germany, as they should have chosen to carry on their invasion, or of both in two or three years' time; and how fatal this might have been to the rest of christendom, or how it might have enlarged the turkish dominions, is easy to conjecture."--sir w. temple, works, iii. 393, edit. 1814. chapter ii. the emperor was exposed on either side to these two implacable enemies. at versailles, as at the porte, had the destruction of the house of austria been sworn. but france was the power which, in the latter half of the seventeenth century, menaced most seriously the independence of her neighbours. turkey was, perhaps, from her internal weakness and faulty constitution, in no condition to effect a lasting conquest, however great her mere destructive energies might be. an ingenious nation and an ambitious king, able ministers and skilful generals, revenues, ships, colonies, commercial enterprise, a central situation among divided foes, combined to render france the dominant power of the age. the great turkish vizier, the restorer of order and prosperity, ahmed kiuprili, had had a greater counterpart in the french minister, cardinal richelieu. the sultan, mahomet iv., was wanting in all those qualities which made louis xiv. for long the successful administrator of a despotic power. the armies of france, under the leadership of a condé, a turenne, a luxembourg, were the finest of the world, the envy of neighbouring princes, the pattern for all soldiers. the duke of marlborough and john sobieski both learnt their first lessons in military affairs under french command. prince eugene vainly sought employment in the french troops; their opposition to himself taught william iii. the art of war. nor was the french ascendency won by arms alone. the order and splendour of her government, the genius of her authors, the attractions of her society, the diplomatic skill of her ambassadors, made a french party in every court in europe. portugal may be said to have owed her independent existence to france; holland till 1672 ranked as a french ally; sweden, too far removed to be a rival, was an almost constant friend, till louis' aggressions alienated her also in 1681. france had a party in poland; the petty princes and republics of italy vacillated between her and the empire; in england she had had cromwell as an ally, and she held both charles ii. and his opponents in her pay. she maintained an understanding with turkey. discontented romanists in england and ireland, unruly protestants in hungary, were alike taught to look to her for advice and for assistance. her frontiers were steadily advancing at the expense of spain and of the german princes. neither force nor treaties seemed to avail aught against her superior strength and cunning. the lotharingian bishoprics and their dependencies; elsass, breisach and bar, roussillon, franche comté, parts of flanders, of artois, of hainault and luxemburg, the free imperial city of strassburg, the territory of orange, were steadily absorbed by her, and thoroughly incorporated with the french kingdom. her opponents saw no possibility of resistance, save in a great confederacy against her. her power was not finally checked, nor her ambition confined within bounds, till such a confederacy was made. but it is hardly too much to say that such a confederacy would have been scarcely possible had the turks been completely victorious at vienna in 1683. three years later than that deliverance, in 1686, the league of augsburg was formed. it was ultimately the union of the emperor, the german princes, sweden, spain, holland and the pope, against an ambition that menaced all. this league was the basis of that grand alliance which finally defeated france under marlborough and eugene. but the true foundations of a similar alliance had been laid before, in 1682, principally by the endeavours of the prince of waldeck, in the treaty of laxenberg between the circles of upper germany and the emperor. this incipient league against france had been practically suspended by the turkish invasion. a turkish success must have dissolved it. the pope had been zealous in forming the "holy league" against the turks and in promoting union against france. had vienna fallen, fear of the sultan would have driven him into the arms of louis, and he would have drawn the catholic powers at least along with him. probably all the states united in the "holy league" must have demanded french support for their own salvation. with austria and poland beaten, france, and france alone, could have assumed the leadership of europe against the east. the german protestant princes would have been ranged under the command of luxembourg and of vendôme; louis would have triumphed upon the danube; the house of austria would have existed only by the sufferance of her ancient enemy; and french influence would have been riveted, as a chain, by the force of admiration and of gratitude, upon the neck of europe. such an event louis expected, and the emperor feared. as the turks drew near, the french armies lay ready upon the frontier, ready to take advantage of the approaching catastrophe--ready to avenge, but not to save the empire. we in england, safe as we were from turkish invasion, were by no means unaffected by the struggle. nothing which tended to increase or diminish the power of france or of the german princes could be indifferent to us, and at that particular time our fortunes were closely bound up with those of the powers opposing france. the motive which induced the dutch government and the other allies of augsburg to sanction the descent of william iii. upon our shores, and to withdraw, at a critical moment, the flower of their forces upon such a doubtful enterprise, was the necessity of including england in their league. though james ii. would no doubt have awakened resistance in some form or other anyhow, the plot which actually overthrew him was hatched abroad among the allies, and executed by the help of foreign troops and foreign money. english men, ships, and money were needed to beat the french. no method was open for obtaining them except by the superseding of king james, entirely or practically, by william, as king or regent. no personal aims nor admiration of whig principles would have justified the risks william ran. in truth, neither the allies nor the dutch government would have allowed him to run such risk at all, save for the common good of the league and of europe. but a turkish victory at vienna would have meant the probable non-existence of the league, by the rallying of half its members to the side of france. it would certainly have meant such a change of circumstances upon the continent, as would have rendered it highly improbable that an army, principally furnished from germany, could be spared to go to england. james and the whig nobility would have fought their quarrel alone, with the high-church tory majority of the country as arbiters of the strife. therefore, had the battle of vienna been fought differently, the boyne, la hogue and blenheim might never have been fought at all. forces supplied by england, or paid by england, commanded by marlborough at blenheim and at ramilies, broke french power. the power of making the alliance which fought at blenheim and at ramilies was won at vienna. to turn to sir william temple's views again, so convinced was he that a turkish invasion of austria would tend to the great advantage of france, that he believed that the turks themselves would see it, and for that very reason refrain from the enterprise; it being against their interest to make any one christian power so strong as france would then become.[5] it is certain that louis xiv. fully appreciated the value of that diversion of their attention from himself, which an attack from hungary upon the rear of the german powers would cause. it is equally certain that he, the eldest son of the church, the most christian king, the persecutor of the huguenots, had some understanding with mohammedans and with hungarian protestant malcontents. and this, too, at a time when religious passions still ran high; when the forces of europe were everywhere divided, owing to religious intolerance; when france herself was about to be fatally injured by the revocation of the edict of nantes. louis, however, intrigued as readily with hungarian protestants as with irish romanists, and the intolerance of the emperor gave every opportunity for interference. indeed, the attacks of the emperor leopold upon the religion of some of his hungarian subjects well nigh proved fatal to austria. the protestants preferred mohammedan rule, which, if contemptuous, may he just, and is not avowedly persecuting, to the oppressions of a court dominated by the jesuit fathers. attempts to germanize their nation and to override their laws united hungarians of all religions in a common hostility to vienna. a dangerous conspiracy, fomented by france, was discovered, and crushed in 1671 by the execution of the principal leaders. but emerich count tekeli, the son of one of the chiefs involved, escaping into transylvania, threw himself upon the protection of the turks, and with their assistance commenced a guerilla warfare in hungary. numbers of the inhabitants, irrespective of their religion, joined his standard. a levy, under french officers, was made even in poland for the assistance of the insurgents. with the almost open aid of the pasha of buda, their operations assumed the character of regular warfare, and they fully held their own against the imperial generals. it was fortunate for austria that, just as the obligations of a peace and internal confusion had prevented the turks from attacking hungary during the thirty years' war, so this rising was not taken advantage of by the porte, in spite of french solicitations, till after the peace of nimuegen in 1679. during the contest with france, from 1673 to 1679, the polish war had occupied the attention of the turks, and the austrian government had been untroubled. they had not at the same time to wage open war with the east and west. yet even now, though peace nominally continued in western europe, france was glad to avail herself of those difficulties of the court of vienna, to which she herself was contributing. louis seized strassburg, and quietly annexed other places by the pretended legal decisions of packed tribunals. he attacked the spanish netherlands, and conceived himself to be acting generously in that he refrained from taking luxemburg. it was enough that austria should be spared the task of fighting, at the same time, on behalf of spain against the french, and on her own behalf against the infidels. that the house of bourbon should strive to embarrass the house of hapsburg, by intrigues in turkey, in hungary and in poland, was but in accord with a traditional policy, which no danger to their common christendom could be expected to overrule. but 1683 was a year of disaster for louis. in that year he lost two of his natural sons, his queen, and his greatest minister, colbert. above all, in that year his designs against the emperor were destined to be foiled by the interference of sobieski, the _deus ex machina_ for christendom and for the empire. footnote: [5] "if the grand vizier (kiuprili) be so great a man as he is reputed in politics as well as in arms, he will never consent, by an invasion of hungary, to make way for the advance of french progress into the empire, which a conquest of the low countries would make easy and obvious; and so great accessions (with others that would lie fair and open in the spanish provinces upon the mediterranean) would make france a formidable power to the turk himself, and greater than i suppose he desires to see any in christendom."--sir w. temple, works, ii. 212, edit. 1814. chapter iii. to return, therefore, to the troubles in hungary, which gave occasion for french intrigue and for the interference of the porte. the turks, reinvigorated by the policy of the late vizier kiuprili, but directed no longer by his cool experience and judgment, were now not slow to take advantage of the difficulties of austria. after their defeat at the hands of montecuculi at st. gotthard in 1664, they had consented to a twenty years' truce, by which they were still left in possession of the greater part of hungary, and of that part where the pure magyar population most prevailed. this truce had not expired when the oppressions exercised in the part of their country remaining to the emperor drove the hungarians to arms, and count tekeli to seek aid from the sultan. ordinarily scrupulous in the observance of their treaty obligations, the turks were on this occasion overcome by the temptations held out to them of an easy extension of their frontier and of their influence. with the active aid of the hungarians, and with the tacit consent of france, they deemed it possible to deal a mortal blow at the house of austria. the sultan, mahomet iv., was perhaps not over ambitious, but he was spurred on by the zeal of a servant. the grand vizier, kara mustapha, though a nephew of the great minister kiuprili, owed his advancement more to the beauty of his person and to the favour of the sultana validé, or queen mother, who ruled the ruler of islam, than to other connexions or to ability. his ambition, however, was believed to aim at no less than a dependent kingdom for himself in hungary or at vienna. here, at all events, and not against the poles or russians, did kara mustapha determine to gather his laurels and his booty. he had, indeed, already essayed a russian campaign with little profit. a more striking success and greater glories, more abundant plunder with fewer toils, seemed to be promised by a campaign in the valley of the danube, than by one among the marshes and forests of poland, or of the ukraine. too late, in 1681, the court of vienna attempted a conciliatory policy in hungary. the spirit of rebellion had been aroused, and the offers of redress and justice made by the emperor were distrusted as a veil for treachery, or despised as the confession of weakness. tekeli defied the emperor, and assumed the offensive even beyond the borders of hungary. neither was the porte to be propitiated. in vain an imperial embassy to constantinople sought a prolongation of the truce, which was on the point of expiring at the end of the stipulated twenty years. the demands of the turks rose with the progress of their preparations. a principality for their ally, count tekeli, in hungary; extension of territory, with the strongest border fortresses for themselves; a great war indemnity--such were the terms which implied a determination not to negotiate. the ambassador, count caprara, was compelled as a prisoner himself to witness the departure of the turkish hosts for the frontier. at the end of the year 1682 the main body were drawn together at adrianople. mahomet iv. encouraged his troops by his countenance in the camp, and beguiled the tedium of winter quarters by his favourite pastime of hunting. the sport was carried on upon a gigantic scale with thirty thousand beaters, many of whom perished by exhaustion. "no doubt they have spoken ill of me, and god hath dealt them their reward," was the reasonable conjecture of the sultan upon their fate. this mighty hunter, however, relieved his army of his presence when the spring of 1683 saw it finally set in motion for the danube. kara mustapha was invested with complete command. accounts vary as to the precise point where mahomet left his army. the ambition of his vizier perhaps was interested in removing so soon as possible from the field the sultan, to whom the glory of success would have been necessarily ascribed. similar motives had, according to m. de la guillatière, caused others before this to keep the easily persuaded prince back from the camp, whither his first impulse would have led him. oriental exaggeration is prone to magnify the hosts which asiatic despots can command for their service. the muster-roll, found in the tent of the grand vizier after his defeat, affords a better basis for calculation. we find there, in round numbers, 275,000 fighting men enumerated, as the original strength of the turkish army. judging by the analogy of our indian armies, the attendants and camp followers of all descriptions must have doubled these numbers. in hungary, the vizier effected a junction with count tekeli, who was at the head of nearly 60,000 men--hungarians, transylvanians, turks and tartars. even french officers and engineers were to be found in tekeli's ranks; and the character of his cause was vindicated by coins which he caused to be struck with the inscription, _pro deo et patria_. half a million of men probably, of all creeds and races that lie between the carpathian mountains and the arabian deserts, were arrayed under the standard of the prophet in the valley of the danube. again, according to the turkish returns, of these 50,000 men perished in the operations before the decisive battle that relieved vienna. of the whole vast multitude not more than 50,000 it was computed, ultimately regained the turkish frontier. but even if drawn up with the best intentions, the accuracy of such returns and estimates can never be more than an approximation to the truth. it is sufficient that hundreds of thousands were marshalled beneath the crescent to burst in a storm of desolating war upon the christian lands. for the struggle between turk and christian was not of the character of those operations to which the term of civilized warfare is conventionally applied. prisoners were seldom made. the christian slaughtered; the turk, if he spared, sold into slavery his captives; prisoners we cannot call them to whom future release was denied. far and wide before the turkish armies, the tartars and the irregular horsemen, whose sole pay was plunder, whose diversion and whose business at once was rapine, spread in a desolating cloud over the country. the whole of the unconquered hungary, the austrian duchy, the plains of moravia and the mountains of styria were swept or threatened by the scourge. poland they had long held to be their licensed field of plunder, and now bavaria, and bohemia even, trembled at the terror of their approach. the painful curiosity of their friends has attempted an estimate of the numbers of turkish captives taken in this invasion. 32,000 grown persons, the great majority women, 204 of whom were maiden daughters of the nobility; 26,000 little children were, they tell us, carried off into slavery. this return seems to make no mention of lads, nor of elder girls, who would perhaps form the majority of those spared for the slave-market. how many of these perished under their hardships, or by the turkish disasters; how many others tasted death, but before slavery; how many others may have lost home, wealth and honour, must remain beyond enumeration or even conjecture. it is said that in lower austria and on the frontiers of hungary alone, 4936 villages and hamlets were given to the flames in 1683. to meet this torrent of devastation, the emperor leopold could muster but scanty forces. a full half of the territory now united under the austro-hungarian monarchy was in the hands of the turks, or of the hungarian rebels; or then formed part of the territories of poland. the finances of vienna have never been a source of strength. "business men laugh at our finance, for my part i weep over it," said eugene to the emperor not long afterwards, lamenting the want of the sinews of war. the imperial influence of leopold in germany was small. the german princes were distant, jealous, slow to move. brandenberg was irritated over the silesian claims, that fruitful source of future war. france was all but openly hostile. spain was powerless. venice, a shadow of her former self. poland alone, under her heroic monarch, john sobieski, might give present and substantial assistance. yet all knew that to lean upon the support of poland was to risk leaning upon a bruised reed indeed. poland was, indeed, to all appearance, still a great country. the russian province of poland, lithuania, gallicia, posen, part of prussia proper, were polish. roughly speaking, her frontiers stretched from the dneiper to near the oder, from the baltic to the carpathians. but a great territory does not make a great nation. the approaching fall of poland was foreshadowed by her fortunes, even in the seventeenth century. the extraordinary calamities of that country should not blind us to the means by which she brought some of her misfortunes upon her own head. her constitution seemed skilfully contrived to unite the vices of aristocratic and democratic governments with the virtues of neither. her people were turbulent without freedom, proud without steadiness of purpose. she lacked the equality and the popular support proper to a republic, as she lacked the fixed succession to the highest office and the consistent policy which are supposed to be the advantages of monarchy. a mob of tens of thousands of armed citizens pretended to form a deliberative diet. their convention was always a signal for confusion; their dissolution was often the prelude to civil war. in the huge concourse a single _veto_ could stay proceedings, unless indeed the malcontent paid for his opposition with his life. an attempt to introduce representative assemblies was always resented, and the experiment restricted, by the jealousy of the citizens. delegates, not representatives, came to the meetings. they were vigilantly observed, and strictly cross-examined on their return, by self-constituted judges, as to the performance of their mandate. real debate and deliberation, free judgment and rational decision, were as impossible in one kind of assembly as in the other. below these citizen-nobles, the people were slaves. the two halves of the state, poland and lithuania, were set against each other continually. the monarchy became purely elective in the sixteenth century. the king was the nominee of some foreign court, or of some domestic party, or family. factions nourished from abroad were thus kept alive. once elected, the king found his power curtailed on every side; and was generally as solicitous for the advancement, and future succession perhaps, of his family, as for the good of the state. he might be a stranger, or he might owe his position to the support of a foreign power. he seldom or never could be more than the nominee of some faction, the king of a party to the end of his days. john sobieski, the polish king, and himself once a polish nobleman, was not a candidate put forward by france for the polish crown, but was generally supposed to lean towards a french connexion. his wife was french; he had passed some of his earlier years in france, and had served in louis' musketeers of the guard. his most formidable rival for the crown had been charles leopold of lorraine,[6] the austrian candidate, who was now commanding the imperial armies. an ill omen for any unity of action in the future, between the two, against the turks. sobieski had fought his way to royalty. he had contended against the enemies, from sweden to turkey, with whom poland was continually embroiled. his medals bore the proud device of a sword piercing three laurel crowns, with on its point a royal diadem, and the truthful motto below, _per has ad istam_. poland had been afflicted by cossack insurrection, tartar devastation and turkish conquest. the king, michael, had signed the disgraceful peace of buksacs, by which the poles became turkish tributaries. sobieski and the other nobles repudiated the treaty; and at choczim, in 1673, sobieski overthrew the turks with such slaughter that "the turbans were floating thick as autumnal leaves upon the dneister." the crown of poland rewarded his victory; but the turbulence and inconstancy of his subjects prevented his reaping the fruits of success. at the most critical moments he was left destitute of men and of money, in the face of a host of turks and tartars. at lemberg before his coronation, and at zurawna after it, he was glad to have successfully defended the remainder of his country. the peace named from the latter town, left part of the ukraine and nearly all podolia with the fortress of kaminiec, in turkish hands. the turks scrupulously observing their part of the agreement, believed that they thereby secured the neutrality of poland. sobieski had suffered injuries and affronts at the hands of austria. the punctilious pride of the emperor was likely to add to the difficulty of forgetting these. at the last moment only would leopold consent to address the man who was to save his empire by the title of majesty. the poles either were loth to begin a new turkish war at all, or represented the advantage which might be gained by holding aloof, till both combatants were exhausted. if they fought, podolia, not hungary, the recovery of kaminiec in the former, not the relief of vienna, should be their object. the lithuanians were specially jealous of sobieski, and slow to move. the cossacks were not to be depended upon. the country was exhausted of men and money by former campaigns. the french ambassador, forbin, cardinal de janson, was instructed to work upon the king by promises of the future support of louis, of visionary crowns in hungary, and of lands in silesia as the price of his inactivity. no means were to be spared to detach poland from austria. the cardinal worked cautiously, being an old friend and in expectation of future favours from sobieski; but a special agent who was with him, the marquis de vitry, spared no pains to foment jealousies and to excite fears, and distributed money among the partisans of a peace policy. an abortive scheme was entertained for supplanting the king himself by another, more amenable to french influence. but the conspiracy was discovered, and the effect was disastrous to the french faction. the poles rallied round the victor of choczim and of lemberg, and the authors of the intrigue against him were thrown into prison, or left the country. the french agent, vitry, himself retired from poland. fortunately also for christendom, and for the house of austria, the wife of sobieski, marie casimire de la grange d'arquien, a frenchwoman, had determined to thwart the diplomacy of her native land. the failure of an intrigue, by which her father, a needy marquis, was to have been converted into a wealthy duke; a refusal of the french court to receive her, a french subject by birth, as an equal should she revisit france;--these causes made her an austrian partisan. sobieski, at the age of fifty-three, still burned with youthful ardour for his wife of forty-one, though scandal would have it that this king arthur had his lancelot in the field-marshal jablonowski, one of the foremost of his officers. "his incomparable maria," as the king addressed his queen in his frequent letters, was at all events vain and intriguing, and seldom influenced for good the husband whom she also adored. yet on this occasion her persuasions seconded the arguments which would undoubtedly have swayed sobieski apart from her. his true atmosphere was that of the battle-field. his most glorious victories were won over the infidels. the danger which menaced austria was a common menace to christendom. warsaw itself would not be safe if vienna fell. the foremost champion of the cross would not be wanting in such a crisis. in his enthusiasm he deemed it possible to unite the jarring elements of european society in a grand crusade. visions floated before him of a great league, including the christian powers and the persians, by which the turkish empire should be overthrown, constantinople recovered, moldavia and wallachia united to the polish crown, and a republic of athens and the morea established. a scheme too great for accomplishment in the face of the selfishness of france and austria and the inherent weakness of poland. but a general subscription was needed to put any army into the field at all. rome and italy were foremost in contributions; even ecclesiastical property was allowed to be mortgaged in the cause. the pope, an economical reformer in rome, as befitted the member of a banking family, the odescalchi, was able to provide two million _scudi_. christina, ex-queen of sweden, bestirred herself to increase the fund. the regent of portugal sent money, and sanctified the gift by a simultaneous holocaust of jews. 1,200,000 florins were to be advanced by the emperor to pay the polish troops. the pope undertook to guarantee the repayment, and contributions were expected from the king of spain. both these latter alike were swayed by the double motive--fear of the turks, and the desire to set free the empire to act against france again. leopold, as his contribution to the harmony of the allies, had condescended to yield the title of "majesty" to the king of poland, and had held out hopes of a marriage between the son of sobieski and an austrian archduchess, which might ensure the succession of the former to his father's throne. a dispensation from the pope released the poles from the duty of keeping their oaths to the turks. the emperor and the king exchanged oaths not to resort to such a dispensation from their engagements to each other. the treaty of alliance was signed; but before the polish troops could be mustered in any numbers, the turkish armies had united with those of tekeli, and were pouring across the frontier. footnote: [6] the duke of lorraine had married the emperor's sister, the widow of the late polish king, michael. the french had driven him from his hereditary states, and he found employment at the head of his brother-in-law's armies, against them and the turks. chapter iv. charles of lorraine, the imperial commander, had under his orders less than 40,000. the levy _en masse_ of hungary produced 3000 soldiers only for the emperor's service, so wide was the sway of the turks, or so universal the sympathy for tekeli. six thousand hungarians, supposed to be raised for the emperor, went over to the enemy as soon as they advanced. yet, contrary to his own opinion, lorraine began with offensive operations against the turkish fortress of neuhausel. a partial success was followed by a disastrous repulse, and the army withdrew south of the danube, as the main turkish force approached upon that same side of the river. lorraine had some idea of making a stand near the raab to cover the austrian frontier, but the number of the enemy and the temper of his own soldiers rendered such an attempt too hazardous. he determined to retreat, and await the reinforcements already promised by the princes of the empire. garrisons were hastily flung into raab, komorn, and leopoldstadt.[7] the infantry then recrossed the danube and fell back towards vienna along the schütt island, under count leslie's orders. the cavalry marched upon the southern side of the river, but the superior rapidity of their retreat did not save them from molestation. on july 7 at petronel, some twenty miles below vienna, 15,000 spahis and tartars burst upon their march. for a time count taaffe, with the rear guard of 400 men, was in extreme danger. the exertions of lorraine and of louis of baden rallied the cavalry and speedily repulsed their disorderly assailants, but in the confusion several of the officers fell, including prince aremberg and julius louis of savoy, an elder brother of prince eugene, and much of the baggage became the prey of the tartars. altenburg and haimburg, posts upon the danube, had been already stormed, after a brief resistance, by the turkish infantry. those stragglers who first leave the field are always apt to cover their own flight by the report of an universal overthrow. so fugitives came galloping to vienna with a tale of disaster. they spread the rumour that the duke of lorraine was killed and the army totally defeated, while their alarm seemed amply confirmed by the glow of burning villages that brightened upon the twilight of the eastern horizon. the imperial court, which had delayed its flight so far, in the hope that the enemy might linger about the fortresses of raab or of komorn, tarried now no longer. "leopold could never bear to hear plain truths but when he was afraid," says eugene. he had refused to recognize the imminence of the peril until now; and by his confidence had involved in his destruction others, who had not the same means of escape at the last moment which he himself possessed. yet means of escape were barely open to him, when at length he understood that he must defend or abandon his capital. the roads to upper austria and to bavaria, along the southern shore of the danube, were rightly distrusted. the emperor, his empress, and the empress mother, with all their train of courtiers, of ladies, and of servants, shorn of pomp and bereft of dignity in their flight, poured over the leopoldstadt island and the tabor bridge in all the misery of panic fear. the prompt destruction of the bridge of crems, above vienna, is said alone to have saved their route from interception by the tartars. a part of their baggage actually became the prey of the marauders. the whole court, including even the empress herself, who was far advanced in pregnancy, were driven to seek rest in farms and cottages. once they passed the night under a temporary shelter of boughs. in the universal panic, small room was left for hopes of a return to the capital and to the palaces that they had quitted. milan, innspruck, prague were thought of as their future refuge. on to lintz, and from lintz to the frontier they fled, till their confidence at last returned behind the fortifications of the bavarian city of passau. but they were not the only fugitives from vienna. the bold march of the vizier upon the city, leaving raab, komorn, and presburg in his rear, to fall an easy prey when once the great prize was captured; this had taken the citizens by surprise. the retreat of lorraine, and the skirmish at petronel, had filled them with abject terror. people from the surrounding country who had taken shelter in vienna no longer relied upon her as a stronghold, but turned their thoughts to an escape to bavaria, or to styria, or even to the distant tirol. from nine o'clock in the evening till two o'clock in the morning, on the 7th and 8th of july, a never-ending stream of carriages and of fugitives were following in the track of the imperial _cortège_. east and south, upon the horizon, the glare of burning villages told that the turkish horsemen were there. high on the summit of the kahlenberg, the flames of the camalduline convent dreadfully illuminated the track of the fugitives. sixty thousand persons, it was believed, left the city in the course of a few days. of those who, crossing the danube, took the roads into upper austria or into moravia, some fell into the hands of the hungarian and tartar marauders. but few of those who attempted to escape into styria succeeded in reaching a place of safety. they perished by thousands, enveloped by the flying squadrons of the invaders. in vienna herself, deserted by her leaders and by so many of her children, violent tumult raged against the government, and against the jesuits, who were supposed to have instigated the persecution of the protestants of hungary. there was ample cause for terror. the fortifications were old and imperfect, the suburbs encroached upon the works, the number of the defenders was small. thirteen thousand infantry, supplied by the army of lorraine, and seven thousand armed citizens formed the garrison; and, besides these, about sixty thousand souls were in the city. the command was entrusted to ernest rudiger count starhemberg, an officer of tried skill and courage. he had served with montecuculi against the turks, and against both condé and turenne with the same commander and with the prince of orange. he entered the city as the fugitives forsook it. he set the people to work upon the fortifications, organized them for defence, and assured them that he would live and die with them. but while writing to the emperor that he would joyfully spend the last drop of his blood in defence of his charge, he confesses that the place is in want of everything, and the inhabitants panic-stricken. fortunately he and others with him were the class of men to restore confidence in the rest. under him served many noble volunteers, for the example of the emperor was not universally followed. the bishop of neustadt, once himself a soldier and a knight of malta, was conspicuous among many brave and devoted men for his liberal donations to the troops, and for his superintendence of the sanitary state of the city. in one respect alone the place was well furnished; three hundred and twenty-one pieces of artillery were supplied by the imperial arsenal for the fortifications.[8] the city was defended after the existing fashion, with ten bastions, the curtains covered by ravelines, with a ditch mostly dry. on the side of the danube was merely a wall with towers and platforms, and all the works were more or less uncared for and decayed. the work of fixing palisades was postponed till the turkish army was in sight. it is possible that by a slightly more rapid march the vizier might have secured vienna by a _coup de main_. on july 13, the turkish regular cavalry came in sight, preceding the infantry of the main army; and at the last possible moment fire was set to the suburbs, which impeded the defence. a high wind speedily caused them to be consumed. on the 14th, the turkish army took up its position, encamping in a semicircle, round the whole of the circuit of the defences not washed by the danube. a city, surpassing in size and population the beleaguered capital, sprang up about the walls of vienna. the tents of the vizier were pitched opposite the burg bastion, in the suburb of st. ulric. the camp was crowded not only by soldiers, but by the merchants of the east, who thronged thither as to a fair to deal in the plunder of the christians. the imperial troops still attempted to hold the leopoldstadt island; but on july 16, the turks threw bridges across the arm of the danube, and shortly drove the christians to the northern bank of the river. the houses of the leopoldstadt were given up to fire by the turks; and the bridge, leading to the northern shore, destroyed by the imperialists. the investment of vienna was now completed upon every side. batteries from the leopoldstadt, and from the south and west, crossed it with fire in all directions. trenches were opened, and the elaborate approaches and frequent mines of the turks, advancing with alarming rapidity, enveloped the western and south-western face of the works from the scottish gate to the burg bastion. upwards of three hundred pieces of artillery played upon the crumbling defences and the devastated city. the pavement of the streets was torn up, that the balls might bury themselves in the soft earth where they fell. the upper floors and roofs of the houses were barricaded with heavy timber, or covered with sandbags, to guard against the fire of the dropping shells. the streets themselves were blocked behind the walls, chains drawn across them, and the houses loop-holed and prepared for defence to the last extremity. all the gates had been walled up but one, the stuben gate, which, being partially covered by the stream of the wien, was left open as a sally-port. early in the siege, the assailed, frequently issuing forth, returned the attacks of the enemy, frustrated their operations, and even captured provisions in the hostile lines. but as time went on, the diminishing numbers of the garrison forbade the waste of life incurred even in successful sorties. [illustration: map] the progress of the turks was rapid with sap and mine. they were famed for their skill with entrenching and engineering tools, and the christians learnt much from them, though their approaches were unlike the ordinary european works. instead of parallel lines to the defences they drew curves, overlapping each other and continually approaching the place attacked. the trenches were deep, and fifteen or sixteen feet wide at the bottom where the ground allowed. the depth of the turkish works effectually protected their soldiers, even when they had made a lodgment in the ditch; for the besieged could not depress their cannon sufficiently to hurt them.[9] they were protected skilfully by bomb-proof shelters of timber and of turf, beneath which thousands of men, hidden and shielded, crouched ready for attack, or for the repulse of sorties. their mines penetrated in every direction to the counterscarp of the place, and ultimately to the walls themselves. at length the very cellars of the nearest houses were threatened by a subterranean enemy; and water and drums strewn with peas were placed in them, to tell, by the slightest vibration, of the work of the turkish miner's pick below. the turkish miners were bolder than those of the garrison. the latter were hired labourers of the lowest class, of whom starhemberg wrote to lorraine that nothing would induce them to re-enter a mine after they had heard the sound of the enemy working near them. on the part of the enemy, men who had applied for a _timar_, or military fief, often volunteered as miners to prove their courage and to win its reward. at the very beginning of operations the city all but perished through a fire, which actually reached the windows of the imperial arsenal stored with eighteen hundred barrels of powder. an explosion there would have opened a road for the turkish army into vienna, at once deprived of the means of resistance and reduced to ruins. the exertions of captain count guido starhemberg, nephew of the commandant, who personally superintended the removal of the powder through the opposite windows, together with a lucky change of wind, saved the city. rightly or wrongly, an incendiary was suspected. the fear of treachery was added to the legitimate terrors of the citizens. desertions took place to the enemy, and spies were actually apprehended within the walls. hungarians and other christians were arrayed upon both sides, and this community of language and manners, between besiegers and besieged, rendered such a danger more real. but from the open force of the attack the worst calamities were to be feared. on the 23rd, 25th, and 27th of july the opening assaults were delivered. all were repulsed, but with loss of lives ill-spared. closer and closer crept the turkish sappers. assault after assault upon the outer fortifications gradually wrested important positions from the besieged. the burg and löwel bastions, with the connecting curtain between them and the burg ravelin, were reduced to an almost shapeless ruin by the turkish mines and artillery. every device was tried to retard the attack. the arts and ingenuity of a great city were at the service of the besieged. they made their own powder; and, when hand-grenades began to fail, the invention of an officer supplied their place with grenades of earthenware. nevertheless, on august 7, the turks made a lodgment upon the counterscarp, after twenty-three days of firing and terrible losses upon both sides. the janissaries now stood upon the very threshold of the city. hand to hand fighting was carried on in the ditches. the citizens armed with scythes upon the end of poles contended with advantage from above against the turkish sabres. boiling pitch and water stood continually ready to overwhelm the assailants as they struggled up the shattered slope of the ramparts. besiegers and besieged were continually within pistol shot of each other, and showers of turkish arrows descended on the town. as yet no footing was obtained by the turks within the body of the place, though the streets and houses stood ready barricaded against such an event. but the vizier commanded two hundred thousand men, starhemberg but twenty thousand. disease and the toils and losses of the defence told fearfully upon the latter. starhemberg himself was disabled by dysentery early in the siege, and did all that man could do, carried in a chair from post to post, amidst the hottest of the fire. on the other side, kara mustapha made his rounds in a litter rendered shot-proof by plates of iron. the chief engineer of the garrison, rimpler, fell. colonel bärner, commanding the artillery, and the prince of wurtemberg were disabled. five thousand men, more than a third of the regular soldiers, perished. food became scarce, vermin were eagerly sought for by the poor, and dysentery followed inevitably in the train of want. fever sprang from the confinement, filth, and bad air inseparable from their condition. sixty persons a day were dying of dysentery alone towards the conclusion of the siege. but the humour of the viennese asserted itself still among their calamities, and the spoils of nocturnal chase upon the tiles were sold as "roof hares" in the market. the courage of long endurance, that rarest of all courage, was tried to the uttermost. the bishop of neustadt, bravest of the brave defenders, laboured unremittingly among the sick, nor cared less for the safety of the whole, by undertaking the control of sanitary measures. the otherwise useless non-combatants were organized by him into bands of scavengers, hospital attendants, and carriers of the wounded. a despatch from starhemberg, dated august 18, came safely to the hands of lorraine. the commandant wrote boldly, perhaps with an eye to the probability of his intelligence reaching the turkish and not the imperial general. "i must in the first place, tell your highness that we have up to this moment disputed the works with the enemy, foot by foot, and that they have not gained an inch of ground without paying for it dearly. every time that, sword in hand, they have attempted a lodgment, they have been vigorously repulsed by our men, with such loss that they no longer dare to put their heads out of their holes." nevertheless, he was providing for the worst. "i have caused a new work, well ditched, to be made in the middle of the burg ravelin; the löwel and burg bastions are also defended by a second line; and i am even now beginning another work behind these same bastions. i write this that your highness may know that we are forgetting nothing, that we are wide awake, and taking all imaginable precautions. as in duty bound i assure your highness, that to show myself worthy of the confidence which your highness, and more especially his majesty my master, repose in my small services, i shall never yield the place but with the last drop of my blood." this despatch was safely carried to lorraine by kolschitzki, a pole. many other letters had miscarried, for few messengers penetrated, at the risk of life, between the city and the slowly mustering forces of lorraine. some swam the arms of the danube. the most skilful, however, was this kolschitzki, who relied upon his knowledge of the turkish tongue and manners, and in turkish dress penetrated the besieging lines, much as a countryman of our own relied on similar knowledge in a scarcely less memorable siege. the name of kolschitzki of vienna may be named side by side with that of "lucknow" kavanagh, though the pole not only passed out through the besiegers, but succeeded in returning again in a like manner into the city with despatches, to sustain the courage of the defenders. from his stone chair, high up in the fretted spire of st. stephen's, the watchman saw the rockets which rose as signals from the christian outposts north of the danube. but from the southern bank must the march be made for the deliverance of the city; and was it possible that lorraine, or even sobieski, could carry a force across the river in the face of such an army? the garrison record, with painful exactness, the terrible annals of the siege; what ravelin is deluged with the blood of assailants and of defenders; where mines have blown the counterscarp into the ditch, or shattered the salient angle of a bastion; what new quarter of the city is devastated by the cannonade; what much-prized life is taken; when the bread begins to fail; what false hopes of relief, or what exaggerated tidings of calamity, circulate among the citizens. these details, of overwhelming interest to every man at the moment, and printed indelibly upon his mind, bring to the distant observer but one confused and appalling panorama of suffering and of endurance, of courage and of despair. the growing anxiety of the city appears in a second despatch of starhemberg's, dated august 27. he still tells of attacks repulsed, of sorties boldly executed, and of mines discovered and foiled, but he acknowledges the need of succour. "we are losing many men and many officers, more from dysentery than from the enemy's fire, the deaths from that disease alone are sixty daily. we have no more grenades, which were our best defence; our guns are some of them destroyed by the enemy's fire, some of them burst before firing fifty rounds, from the bad material used by the founder; and the enemy, seeing they can hold their lodgments in the ditch with a few men, are massing great numbers on the counterscarp, to have a large force ready there for some extraordinary effort.... we await, therefore, your highness's arrival with extreme impatience; for my own part not so much from a wish to be relieved as that i may have the honour of respectfully assuring your highness of my obedience, being, as i am, your highness's most humble and obedient servant, starhemberg." the courtly bravado of the subscription is in strong contrast with the hurried postscript that follows:--"my miners tell me that they hear the enemy working beneath them under the burg bastion; they must have run their gallery from the other side of the ditch, and there is no time to be lost." when this despatch was written, both sides believed that the supreme crisis was at hand. the 29th of august was looked for as the decisive day. on that anniversary stuhlweissenberg and belgrade had fallen before the ottomans.[10] above all, on that day the strength of hungary had been smitten, and her king, louis, had died, before the hosts of the great solyman, on the disastrous field of "the destruction of mohacs"--that battle which first opened hungary and austria to the invader. but the 29th came and passed, with no general attack from the besiegers. a mine was sprung under the burg ravelin, nearly completing the ruin of the work; and three or four hundred turks attempted to establish themselves upon the remains, but were driven back again. another mine was sprung by the burg bastion, but no assault followed. from st. stephen's considerable movement was noticed among the turkish detachments on the left bank of the danube, occasioned by the march of lorraine's army. in the camp murmurs and dissensions ran high. the janissaries clamoured at their lengthy detention in the trenches. they openly accused the incapacity, or worse faults, of the vizier. there seems little doubt but that he had it in his power to have overwhelmed the defenders by a general and prolonged assault, towards the end of august. ottoman leaders had known well how to avail themselves of the obedience and fatalist courage of their soldiers. amurath iv., when he won back baghdad from the persians, mahomet ii., at the taking of constantinople, had shown how cities could be won. before the city of the khalifs for three days, before the city of the cæsars from a may sunrise till well nigh noon, had torrent after torrent of brave, devoted, undisciplined soldiers wearied the arms and exhausted the ammunition of the defenders, until the janissaries arose, fresh and invincible for the decisive charge. wave after wave of stormers, fed from inexhaustible multitudes, had rolled upon the besieged, and, like broken waves, had rolled back in ruin, until the last and greatest should burst in overwhelming force upon the breaches. such an assault would have been surely successful against vienna. but the vizier, in vain security, pictured to himself the advantages of a surrender, which should preserve the city as a trophy of his conquest--the seat, perchance, of his sovereignty. the riches which he dreamed it to contain, he hoped to receive as his own spoil; not to yield as the booty of the army after a storm. so, while the decisive days passed, the signal for attack was delayed, except by small bodies upon single points, until the courage of his soldiers was dissipated and their confidence destroyed. on the contrary, the unexpected reprieve gave courage to the defenders. the janissaries, on the other hand, impatiently invoked the appearance of the relieving army to end their sojourn in the trenches by the decisive event of a stricken field. slowly, but at last, ere yet too late, that army was approaching. footnotes: [7] that is the leopoldstadt over against neuhausel, not the island suburb of vienna. [8] together with forty-two guns and eight howitzers from the city arsenal. among the emperor's pieces were eleven gigantic mortars, described as 100, 150, and 200-pounders, but two hundred and fifty-three of the guns were smaller than 12-pounders. [9] starhemberg to duke of lorraine, august 18. [10] not pesth and rhodes, which are sometimes added. rhodes fell on christmas day. chapter v. the duties which had been imposed upon charles of lorraine were of the most arduous kind. with a handful of troops, but slowly reinforced by the german levies, whose assistance was rendered less useful by the jealousies of the sovereign princes in command, he was opposed both to the turks and to tekeli. he was expected to be ready to support the garrisons of presburg and of komorn, to hinder the incursions of the enemy into upper austria and into moravia--above all, to prepare the bridges above vienna, by which alone a relieving army could arrive. though driven from the leopoldstadt island, and from all immediate communication with the city, his presence yet animated the besieged with hope of succour. he fixed his head-quarters finally at krems, on the danube, where the saxon contingent presently arrived, followed by the troops of the circles and the bavarians. before their arrival, towards the end of august, he felt strong enough to advance and rescue presburg from tekeli. he followed up the operation by a defeat inflicted on the combined forces of the turks and hungarians upon the marchfeld. a detachment of four thousand polish horse, under lubomirski, originally raised to assist tekeli, were already present with the army of lorraine. but decisive operations were of necessity postponed till after the coming of the king of poland with the bulk of his forces, and of the rest of the german troops. lorraine, in these movements, undoubtedly proved his title to generalship; but nothing except the extraordinary apathy of the vizier rendered them possible. a skilful employment of the enormous force of turkish cavalry must have forced the imperial army to retire for want of supplies. the ravage, aimlessly and mercilessly inflicted upon austria and the confines of moravia, would, if directed against poland, have probably prevented the march of sobieski. an able commander, with such forces at his command, might have prevented, or at least hindered, the junction of the poles and germans. nor were any steps taken by the vizier to stop the construction of the bridges at krems and at tuln, nor to guard the defiles of the wiener wald, over which the christian army must advance to raise the siege. so extraordinary indeed was the neglect of the enemy, that a secret understanding has been supposed between tekeli and sobieski, by which, in return for the future good offices of the latter, the former was not to molest poland nor hinder the junction of the christian forces. be that as it may, the secret information of the poles was as good as that of the turks was bad, and the king knew thoroughly with what foes he had to deal.[11] meanwhile, in spite of french intrigues, in spite of backwardness in lithuania and of distrust in poland, sobieski had left warsaw for cracow on july 18. up to the last moment the turks disbelieved in his coming in person, and the emperor and the french king both doubted it. he was gouty, he was rheumatic, he was too fat to ride; such was the tenour of the information of the baffled french agent vitry. nevertheless, on the 22nd of august, he was on the silesian frontier with the main part of his army. it consisted mostly of cavalry, of those polish horsemen matchless in prowess, but the most unstable of forces. his infantry was less numerous and inferior, their shabby accoutrements contrasting sharply with the gaudy equipment of the cavaliers. "they have sworn to dress themselves better in the spoils of the enemy," said the king of one regiment, deprecating the criticism of the germans. his march lay through silesia and moravia, through the borders of the lands devastated by the tartars, where the trembling inhabitants thronged around him, hailing him already as their deliverer. urged by message after message from lorraine, he left his army to follow under the leadership of the field-marshal jablonowski, and hurried on himself at the head of two thousand cavalry, his son prince james by his side. we can follow every movement of the campaign from the letters which, amid the hurry of the march, during short hours snatched from sleep, once at least during the thunder of a turkish cannonade, he found time to despatch continually to his queen. _seule joie de mon âme, char__mante et bien-aimée mariette_, as he calls her. her letters in reply are his continual consolation amid the labours of the campaign, the ingratitude of the emperor, and the insubordination of his subjects. "i read all your letters, my dear and incomparable maria, thrice over--once when i receive them, once when i retire to my tent and am alone with my love, once when i sit down to answer them." such is his answer to her expression of a fear that the distractions of his enterprise may leave no time for interest in aught besides. on august 29 he writes, from near brunn in moravia, sending the news of the retreat of tekeli after his defeat by lorraine, and adding that he hopes the next day, on nearing the danube, to hear the cannon which tell that vienna is still untaken. on the 31st he is near tuln, above vienna. he has passed the distant thunder of the cannonade upon his left hand, and has effected his junction with the army of lorraine. despairing of the arrival of the lithuanians, he has distributed the arms intended for them among the imperfectly equipped poles. still more is he distressed at the non-appearance of the cossacks, whom he expected, and whom he knew as invaluable for outpost duty. menzynski, who should have conducted them, is lingering at lemberg. "_c'est un grand misérable._" most interesting of all is the passage in which he gives his wife his first impressions of his future colleague, the duke of lorraine. lorraine had been a competitor with sobieski for the crown of poland, and it must have been a singular meeting when the rivals first came face to face co-operating together in a mighty enterprise. sobieski the king, whose offspring were not to reign; charles the duke, the destined ancestor of the imperial line of austria.[12] the one in the semi-oriental magnificence of his country, he went into action before vienna in a sky-blue silk doublet; the other in the dress of a campaigner, best described in sobieski's own words. the duke he finds modest and taciturn, stooping, plain, with a hooked nose, marked with small-pox; clad in an old grey coat, with "a fair wig ill-made," a hat without a band, "boots of yellow leather, or rather of what was yellow three months ago." "_avec tout ça, il n'a pas la mine d'un marchand, mais d'un homme comme il faut, et même d'un homme de distinction. c'est un homme avec qui je m'accorderais facilement._" the friendship of the former rivals was cemented by a banquet, and the duke's accustomed monitor being first overcome, lorraine himself was induced to proceed from his native moselle, which he drank usually mixed with water, to the strong hungarian wines--to the improvement, as the king tells his wife, of his conversation. besides lorraine, sobieski found a crowd of german princes awaiting his arrival: john george of saxony, speaking no french nor latin, and very little german; waldeck, of the house of waldeck-wildungen,[13] william the third's right hand man in the netherlands, here commanding the troops of the circles, and winning high praise from the king for his activity and zeal; maximilian of bavaria, whose courage and ill-fortune were hereafter to be signalized at blenheim and at ramilies, now aged twenty-one, wins notice as "better dressed than the others." there were two wurtembergers and the prince of brunswick-lüneburg, afterwards our george i.; the prince of saxe-lauenberg; a hohenzollern and a hessian; three princes of anhalt; hermann and louis of baden, the latter was with marlborough at schellenberg; two sons of montecuculi, the conqueror of st. gotthard; last and youngest, though not least, eugene of savoy, the future conqueror of zenta and of belgrade, and the colleague of marlborough in his greatest battles. there was count leslie, of that scotch house which had given generals to half the armies of europe; count taaffe, the irishman, afterwards sir francis taaffe and earl of carlingford, whose elder brother fell fighting for king james at the boyne, but whose services to the allies secured the earldom from forfeiture. there were gathered veterans of the thirty years' war, men who might have seen gustavus or wallenstein, and men who were to reap their brightest laurels hereafter in the war of the spanish succession. as was wittily said, the empire would have been there had only the emperor been present. the brandenberg troops also were wanting. the "great elector" was jealous of poland--once his superior in the prussian duchy--had formerly been injured by sobieski acting with the swedes in the interests of france, and moreover was not on the best terms with the emperor. brandenberg, then as ever, was playing with skill and patience her own game. the fortunes of the future prussian monarchy were not to be lightly risked for the sake of austria. but the emperor himself must not be rashly charged with want of courage for his absence from the camp. he was not trained to war; the presence of his court would have been embarrassing to the operations, perhaps would have been inseparable from intrigues and jealousies that would seriously have crippled the army. a certain stubborn manhood leopold had shown in not yielding to the pressure put upon him to make terms with louis xiv. in this extremity. the aid of france could have been purchased by the election of the dauphin as king of the romans, probably by smaller sacrifices. the diet at ratisbon had been not disinclined to yield, but the emperor had stedfastly refused to subject either his own house or the empire to french dictation. that one crowned head was in the field was of the greatest importance, especially when that one was the king of poland. everywhere the most cheerful deference was rendered to sobieski by all who were present. the princes, jealous of each other before, now vied with each other in zealous obedience to the conqueror of choczim. his experience of turkish warfare was unique, his personal character commanding. he tells his wife how lorraine, waldeck, saxony, bavaria would send or even come personally for his commands. the ascendancy exercised by sobieski is nowhere more decisively illustrated than in the conduct of five hundred janissaries, a trophy of his victories, who now formed his body guard. he offered them leave of absence from the battle, or even a free passage to the turkish camp, but they besought leave to live and die with him.[14] the king himself was fully prepared to accept the advice of generals like lorraine and waldeck. he had left his royal dignity behind at warsaw, as he told lorraine, and at once agreed with the latter upon a plan for crossing the danube at krems and at tuln, concentrating at tuln and marching over the kahlenberg to vienna. he only complained of the backward condition of the bridges and of the slow assemblage of the troops, whereas the emperor had by letter assured him that all was ready before he had left poland. when finally assembled, the united armies numbered eighty-five thousand men. the poles were more than twenty-six thousand strong. but allowing for detachments, not more than seventy-seven thousand men were available upon the battle-field. the artillery numbered one hundred and sixty-eight pieces, of which few came into action. on september 4, the king still writes from near tuln. if an excess of glory is often the share of a successful commander, yet an excessive toil is his always. sobieski tells his wife that he has a continual cold and headache, and is night and day in the saddle. the french stories were so far true that he could not mount without assistance, yet in the midst of such operations no rest is possible. the turks are, he says, either really ignorant of his presence, or refuse to believe it. the vizier was incredibly ill-supplied with information. he really was uncertain whether sobieski was in the field; and whether the polish army, or partisan corps only, like that of lubomirski, had joined lorraine. the smallest resistance would seriously have retarded the passage of the danube, performed by the germans at krems, by the poles at tuln. as it was, the difficulties were terrible. the pontoons sank under the weight of the artillery and waggons. the latter had to find fords over the smaller branches of the river, while the bridges upon the main stream were strengthened to sustain them. even then much baggage was left north of the danube; much more upon the southern side, entrenched and defended. on september 8, when the concentration of the army upon the southern bank was being completed, marco aviano, the emperor's confessor, celebrated a solemn mass, and gave a formal benediction to the christian army. sobieski then stepped forward, and after addressing some words of encouragement to the assembled officers, bestowed the honour of knighthood upon his son james.[15] an enthusiastic votary of his religion, he desired to impress upon his army that their cause was the cause of god, against the enemies of the faith. even the lutheran saxons and north germans could, with more justice than the hungarian renegades, claim to be fighting _pro deo et patria_. upon the coming struggle depended the question whether the frightful devastation, which had desolated hungary and austria, was or was not to be repeated in all the south german lands. the flat ground upon the southern side of the danube, from near krems to tuln, the tullner feld, offered a convenient space for the mustering of the army after passing the river. vienna was not further than about sixteen miles as the crow flies, but the intervening country was of a difficult nature, even should the turks attempt no interruption to the movements of the relieving forces. the wiener wald, rising to more than nine hundred feet above the level of the danube, runs into a north-easterly direction between tuln and vienna, and advances up to the very current of the river, which flows north-eastward and then south-eastward round the mountain barrier. the roads were few and difficult, and trees covered the slopes of the hills. sobieski had decided to advance with his left wing covered by the danube, and to throw succour into vienna upon that side; while with the right he threatened the rear of the turkish camp on the side of dornbach and hernals. with this object the march was directed upon the leopoldsberg and the kahlenberg, the last heights or ridges of the mountains above the danube, to the north-west of vienna. and at length, on the 10th of september, the forward movement upon the kahlenberg began. already as early as the morning of the 6th, a reconnaissance had been pushed to the summit, and as evening fell had cheered vienna with a flight of signal rockets, in answer to the fiery messengers of distress which nightly rose from the spire of st. stephen's. but to carry an army up the kahlenberg was a harder task. sobieski wrote that the country was horribly wasted. there was neither food for man nor forage for horses, beyond what the army could carry with them. indeed, the leaves of the trees upon the kahlenberg had to eke out the supplies of the latter. there was all need for despatch. the last despairing message had come from starhemberg, borne by a swimmer on the danube to lorraine, in language as brief as significant, "_no time to be lost; no time indeed to be lost._" footnotes: [11] salvandy, p. 96, vol. ii. [12] the grandson of the duke of lorraine married maria theresa, queen of hungary, and was himself emperor. the grand-daughter of sobieski was the mother of charles edward, the hero of the forty-five. [13] of the family, not an ancestor, of the present duchess of albany. [14] salvandy. [15] schimmer, "sieges of vienna;" count thürheim, "life of starhemberg;" and salvandy, "hist. de pologne," p. 172, vol. ii. misplace this solemn benediction of the army and the knighting of prince james on the morning of the 12th. sobieski's own testimony, in his letters to his queen, is decisive for the 8th. nor on the 12th was there time for the ceremony. chapter vi. there was no time to be lost indeed. the fortifications of vienna were a mere heap of ruins. the imperial palace was battered to pieces. nearly one whole quarter of the city was in ashes. on the 3rd of september, the long contested burg ravelin was yielded to the turks. on the 4th, the salient angle of the burg bastion was blown into the air, and an attack was with difficulty repelled. on the 6th, a similar mine and assault following cumbered the löwel bastion with ruin and with corpses. for a moment, the horse tails were planted upon the ramparts. driven back thence with difficulty, the turks still clung to the burg ravelin, and four pieces of cannon planted there, at frightfully close quarters, completed the ruin of the works. but no new attack came. informed of the advance of lorraine, though still incredulous of the presence of sobieski, the vizier began to draw his troops towards the foot of the kahlenberg. he still clung to the batteries and trenches; still kept the pick of his janissaries grappling with the prize which but for him they might have already won. he rejected the advice of the pasha of pesth, to withdraw across the wien and fortify a camp on the wienersberg, secure that if the christians attacked and failed vienna would fall. he withdrew his troops indeed from the leopoldstadt, and threw up some slight works towards the kahlenberg, but remained otherwise irresolute, halting between his expected booty and her deliverer. sobieski had already taken the measure of his opponent. in reply to desponding views of lorraine at tuln, he had said, "be of good cheer; which of us at the head of two hundred thousand men would have allowed this bridge to have been thrown within five leagues of his camp?" to his wife he wrote, "a commander who has thought neither of entrenching his camp, nor of concentrating his forces, but who lies encamped there as if we were one hundred miles off, is predestined to be beaten." viewing the turkish force from the kahlenberg, he said to his soldiers, "this man is badly encamped, he knows nothing of war; we shall beat him." it was well for the christians and for vienna that none of the great warriors who had served the porte was now in command. no man like kiuprili, or even like ibrahim "the devil," the last turkish commander against whom sobieski had contended, was there, to use the fidelity of the janissaries and the valour of the spahis to advantage. the march up the defiles of the kahlenberg presented, even without interruptions, extraordinary difficulties. the king himself pushed forward to superintend the exploration of the way. he was so long parted from his polish troops that they became anxious for his safety. he rejoined them at mid-day on the 11th, and encouraged them as they marched, or, as he says, rather _climbed_ to the summit. some saxon troops, first arriving, with three guns, opened fire upon a turkish detachment marching too late to secure the important position. the turks retired, and the distant sound of the firing announced to vienna the first tidings of deliverance. it was not till the evening of the 11th, however, that the main body of the army had reached the ridge. even then many had lagged behind; the paths were nearly impracticable for artillery, and the germans abandoned many of their guns in despair between tuln and the kahlenberg. but few pieces indeed were fired after the first beginning of the battle on the following day, polish guns, for the most part, brought up by the vigour of the grand marshal of the artillery, kouski, the same officer who had directed the polish field-pieces against the turkish camp at choczim. "an hour before sunset," september 11, as sobieski and the generals stood at length upon the crest of the hill, "they saw outspread before them one of the most magnificent yet terrible displays of human power which man has seen. there lay the valley and the islands of the danube, covered with an encampment, the sumptuousness of which seemed better suited for an excursion of pleasure than for the hardships of war. within it stood an innumerable multitude of animals--horses, camels, and oxen. two hundred thousand fighting men moved in order here and there, while along the foot of the hills below swarms of tartars roamed at will. a frightful cannonade was raging vigorously from the one side, in feeble reply from the other. beneath the canopy of smoke lay a great city, visible only by her spires and her pinnacles, which pierced the overwhelming cloud and flame."[16] sobieski estimated the force before him at one hundred thousand tents and three hundred thousand men. including the non-combatants, he was, perhaps, not far wrong; but the fighting men in the turkish army by this time would be by many fewer than that number. one hundred and sixty-eight thousand men is the most which may be allowed from the muster-rolls found in the vizier's tent, and that certainly exceeds the truth.[17] all around, except where in the encampment the magnificence of the invader was proudly flaunted in the face of the ruin that he had made, the prospect was desolated by war. whatever might be the fortune of the coming day, a generation at least must elapse before those suburbs are rebuilt, those villages restored and repeopled, those fields fully cultivated again. the army felt that it lay with them, under god, to provide against that further extension of the ravage which would follow, should the bulwark of the _oesterreich_, the eastern march of the empire, be forced by hun and tartar. not distinguishable from the distance at which they stood, thousands of christian captives lay in the encampment below. the morrow might deliver up the people of vienna to a like fate with theirs. the city, as the king declared on entering it after the relief, could not have held out five days. as the wind now lifted the cloud of smoke, where should have been the fortifications, the eye could discern nothing but a circle of shapeless ruin, reaching from the scottish gate to what had been the burg bastion. up to and on to it climbed the curving lines of the turkish approaches. sobieski had only hoped gradually to fight his way into a position whence he could communicate with the besieged, and he had arranged his plan of battle at tuln with that idea. but the inequalities of the country between the kahlenberg and vienna, broken with vines, villages, small hills and hollow ways, together with the unexpectedly rapid development of the attack when once it began, seem to have interfered with his original disposition. his army occupied a front of half a polish mile, or about an english mile and three quarters. it was drawn up in three supporting lines that faced south-eastward. the first line of the right wing was composed of nineteen polish (cavalry) divisions and four battalions; the second, of six polish and eight austrian divisions, and four polish battalions; the third, of nine polish, six austrian, three german divisions, three polish and one german battalion. the centre was composed in the first line of nine austrian and eleven german divisions, and thirteen german battalions; in the second, of six german divisions, ten german and six austrian battalions; in the third, of five german and two austrian battalions. the left wing shewed in the first line, ten austrian and five german divisions, and six austrian battalions; in the second line, four german and eight austrian divisions; in the third line, three german and seven austrian battalions. lubomirski with his irregular poles was on the left; the polish field-marshal, jablonowski, commanded on the right; the prince of waldeck, with the electors of bavaria and saxony, the centre; the duke of lorraine and louis of baden, with counts leslie and caprara, were on the left. the king was upon the right or right centre throughout the day. the total force, including detachments not actually engaged, was 46,700 cavalry and dragoons, 38,700 infantry; in all 85,400 men, with some irregulars, and 168 guns, many of them not in action at all. the dragoons fought on foot in the battle.[18] the army was, roughly, one-third poles, one-third austrians, one-third bavarians, saxons, and other germans.[19] the fatigues of the march from tuln would naturally diminish the number of effective soldiers on the day of battle; and the troops were not all in position when the evening of saturday, september 11, fell. as the night however wore away, the rear guard gained the summit of the hills, and snatched a brief repose before the labours of the morrow. but for the king there was no rest. the man whom the french ambassador had described as unable to ride, who was tormented certainly by wearing pains, after three days of incessant toil, passed a sleepless night preparatory to fourteen hours in the saddle upon the battle-field. the season of repose was dedicated to the duties of a general and the affection of a husband. at three a.m. on sunday, the 12th, the king is again writing to his _bien-aimée mariette_. he has been toiling all day in bringing his troops up the ravines. "we are so thin," he writes, "we might run down the stags on the mountains." as to the pomp or even comfort of a king, that is not to be thought of. "all my luggage which we have got up here is in the two lightest carts." he has some more upon mules, but has not seen them for forty-eight hours. he had no thought of sleep; indeed, the thunder of the turkish cannon made it impossible; and a gale of wind, which he describes as "sufficient to blow the men off their horses," bore the noise of their discharge with redoubled clamour to the relieving army. moreover, the king writes, he must be in the saddle before daybreak, riding down from the right to the extreme left, to consult with lorraine, opposite whom the enemy lies in force; not entrenched, he hopes, as on that side he means to break through to the city. a two days' affair, at least, he thinks. then, "my eighth letter to your sixth," he adds, with other familiar and gentle conversation, with tidings of her son and of other friends, but with no word of fear or of apprehension. he had made his will before setting out from warsaw, but he entertained no thought of failure. then closing his wife's letter, the affectionate husband becomes again the heroic king and careful general. he rides from right to left along the lines, in that boisterous autumnal morning, makes the last dispositions with lorraine, with him and with a few others takes again the holy communion from the hands of marco aviano before the sun has risen, and then returns to his post upon the right wing, ready for the advance that was to save vienna. his next letter to his wife was dated "september 13, night. the tents of the vizier." footnotes: [16] coyer, "memoires de sobieski." [17] the roll includes the forces of tekeli, who was not in the turkish camp at all, and takes no count of the last losses which the turkish detachments had suffered, nor of the loss from desertion the night before the battle, when many of the irregulars went off with their booty. the turks had lost, according to this roll, 48,500 men before the battle.--see thürheim's "starhemberg," pp. 150 and _seq._ [18] the dragoons were mounted infantry, using horses to reach the scene of action only. they carried the infantry weapons, sword and musket, but not pikes. the bayonet was just coming into use, but was still fixed in the muzzle of the gun, and had to be removed before firing. [19] count thürheim, "starhemberg," p. 163 and _seqq._; and sobieski to his wife, september 13. chapter vii. the position of the christian army on the kahlenberg was, from the left wing, the nearest point, about four miles from vienna. the centre and right were further removed. the intervening country, far from being a plain, as sobieski had been led to believe when he formed his first plan of battle, is broken up into hillocks and little valleys, intersected by streams, full of vineyards, and interspersed with the ruins of numerous villages burnt by the turks. beyond these lay the turkish encampment and approaches, mingled with the vestiges of the suburbs destroyed by starhemberg at the beginning of the siege. the turkish army was stretched over a front of about four miles from point to point, but slightly curving with the convex side towards the attacking force. their right rested upon the danube, and held the nussberg before the villages of nussdorf and heiligenstadt; their left reached towards breitensee near the wien, and the tartars swarmed still further on the broken ground beyond. their camp straggled in an irregular half-moon from the river above vienna to beyond the wien, and their troops were, at the beginning of the action, drawn up before it. some hasty entrenchments had been thrown up by them here and there, of which the most considerable was a battery between währing, gerstorf and weinhaus;[20] but the bulk of their artillery remained in their lines, pointed against the city, and the clamour of the ensuing battle was swelled by the continuous roar of their bombardment, kept up as on previous days. in the trenches lay a great body of janissaries; and the turkish army was further weakened by the dispersal of tartars and irregulars on the night before the fight, doubtful of the event, and anxious at any rate to secure their plunder. as the king had said, the turks were badly posted, their camp was long and straggling, too valuable to be abandoned and not easy to defend. in case of a reverse, their right wing would run the risk of being driven into the danube, or else have to fall back upon their centre and left, to the confusion of the whole army. fighting with a river and a fortified city upon their flank and rear, repulse for them would mean certain disaster. but the incapacity of the vizier could not be fully fathomed till the attack began. we have the assurance of sobieski himself that he hoped upon the first day merely to bring his army within striking distance of the enemy, and to establish his left well forward near the bank of the danube, ready to deal a decisive blow, or to throw succour into vienna on the morrow or following day. he closed his letter to his wife in the grey of the windy morning of the 12th of september, ignorant that the decisive moment, bringing a victory greater than that of choczim, was at hand. the turks had pushed their outposts forward up the banks of the river, and soon after daybreak lorraine upon the left was engaged, and the fight thickened as his attack towards nussdorf and heiligenstadt was developed. eugene of savoy began his distinguished career in arms by carrying tidings from lorraine to the king that the battle had commenced in earnest. eugene, barely twenty, had left paris that year, slighted by louis, and had entered the service of the emperor. his memoirs dismiss briefly this his first essay in war. "the confusion of that day can be but confusedly described. the poles, who had clambered up to the leopoldsberg--i know not why--went down again like madmen and fought like lions. the turks, encamped where i threw up lines in 1703, did not know which way to front, neglected the eminences, and behaved like idiots."[21] the young aide-de-camp, carrying orders through the hottest of the fire, could not yet penetrate the system which underlay the apparent confusion of the march and battle. advancing in columns with a comparatively narrow front down the difficult slope of the hills, the infantry gradually deployed right and left upon the lower ground, while the cavalry of the second line advanced to fill the gaps thus left in the foremost the turks resisted gallantly, but they were principally dismounted spahis, not a match for lorraine's favourite troops, the german foot, though regaining their horses they would retreat with great rapidity, to again dismount, and again resist, as each favourable position offered itself. the fighting was obstinate, and the losses heavy upon both sides, but the tide of fight rolled steadily towards vienna. the germans carried the height of the nussberg, above nussdorf, and their guns planted there disordered the whole of the turkish right with their plunging fire. osman ogoli, pasha of kutaya, the turkish general of division, pushed forward three columns in a counter-attack, boldly and skilfully directed. the imperial infantry were shaken, but five saxon battalions, inclining to their left from the christian centre, checked in turn the onset of the ottomans, and restored the current of the battle. but had the whole force of the enemy been commanded as their right wing, the allies would scarcely that night have been greeted in vienna. no false move in the advance escaped the skill of osman. as the turkish attack recoiled, the prince of croy had dashed forward with two battalions to carry with a rush the village of nussdorf. checked and overwhelmed, he fell back again, himself wounded, his brother slain. louis of baden, with his dismounted dragoons, came up to the rescue, and checked the pursuing enemy. as they recoiled slowly the fight grew fiercer, and then more stationary about nussdorf and about döbling. houses, gardens, and vineyards formed a series of entrenchments, sharply attacked and obstinately defended. a third time the fiery valour of the turks, charging home with their sabres among the pikes and muskets, disordered the allies, and all but regained the summit of the nussberg. again the superior cohesion of the christians prevailed, and the turkish column outflanked fell back, still stubbornly contesting every foot of ground. from the long extended centre and left of their line no support came to them, as the vizier in anxious irresolution expected the advance of the centre of the allies and of the poles upon their right. his infatuation, moreover, had kept in the batteries the bulk of his artillery, and in the trenches the best of his janissaries. in dire want of the guns, which roared idly upon the already shattered defences of the city, osman was driven through nussdorf and through heiligenstadt, upon the fortified defiles of döbling, where at last a battery of ten guns and a force of janissaries opposed a steadier resistance to the advancing germans. it was now noon. lorraine had already won the position which had been marked out for his achievement for the day, and slackened his attack while he reformed his victorious battalions. the centre and right of the christian army, separated by a longer distance from their foes, had been slowly gaining the field of action, and had scarce fired a shot nor struck a blow, except for the support accorded to the left by the centre. the whole of the infantry and cavalry had at mid-day gained the positions assigned to them, and, in the absence of most of his artillery, sobieski would have hesitated to continue his advance had not his lines, upon the left especially, become so deeply involved that it was difficult to suspend the conflict for long. yet a momentary lull succeeded to the sharp sounds of close combat. a sultry autumn day had followed the boisterous night and morning, and the heat was oppressive.[22] the poles upon the right halted and snatched a hasty meal from the provisions they had brought with them. but as the rattle of the small arms and the clash of weapons died away, the roar of the battering guns and the answering fire of the city rose in overwhelming distinctness. behind the smoky veil, starhemberg and his gallant garrison could perchance barely guess, by sounds of conflict, the progress of their deliverers. tidings from the watch-chair on st. stephen's would spread alternate hope and despair among the citizens. the fate of vienna trembled in the balance. the garrison stood ready in the breaches, the rest of the inhabitants cowered upon the housetops to watch, or knelt in the churches to pray; but to the vizier came swiftly tidings of the foe with whom he had to deal, the foe whose presence he had obstinately refused to credit. reforming after their brief delay, the polish cavalry in gorgeous arms came flashing from the woods and defiles near dornbach on his left. those who had before fought against him, knew the plume raised upon a spear point, the shield borne before him, the _banderolles_ on the lances of his body guard, which declared the presence of the terrible sobieski. "by allah, but the king is really among them," cried gieray, khan of the crimea. and all doubt was at an end as the shout of "_vivat sobieski_" rolled along the christian lines, in dread and significant answer to the discordant clamour of the infidels. profiting, however, by the interruption in the battle, the vizier had reformed his line, brought up infantry from the trenches, and now directed his attack upon the poles and the most formidable of his opponents, hoping by their overthrow to change the fortune of the day, while the imperialists and saxons still halted before his entrenchments at döbling. the turks advanced with courage. for a moment a regiment of polish lancers were thrown into confusion, and the officers, members of the nobility of poland, who strove to rally their lines, fell; but waldeck, moving up his bavarians from the centre, restored the fight. the attack was defeated, and advancing in turn the headlong valour of the poles drove the turks back from point to point, over the alserbach and its branches upon the confines of their camp. to relieve the pressure upon the right and centre, lorraine had renewed his attack with the left of the allies. horses and men had recovered breath and order, and their artillery had moved up in support. the defiles of döbling were cleared by the saxons; and at about four or five o'clock the turkish redoubt before währing was carried by louis of baden with his dismounted dragoons. falling back in confusion upon their approaches and batteries, the turks desperately endeavoured, too late, to turn the siege guns upon the enemy, whose advance now threatened them upon all sides. the caution of sobieski had, up to the last moment, inclined him to respect the superior numbers and the desperation of his foes, and to rest content with the advantage won; but now, in the growing confusion, he saw that the decisive hour had arrived. the elector of bavaria and the prince of waldeck hastening from the centre already saluted him as conqueror. the desperate efforts of the vizier to gain room by moving troops towards his left from the centre, and so extending his lines beyond the polish right, served but to increase the confusion. the field-marshal jablonowski covered that wing, and the queen of poland's brother, the count de maligni, pushing forward with infantry, seized a mound, whence his musketry fire dominated the spot where the vizier stood. the last shots were fired from the two or three cannon which had kept pace with the advance. a french officer rammed home the last charge with his gloves, his wig, and a packet of french papers. already the roads to hungary were thronged with fugitives, whose course was marked by dust in columns, when the king decided to seize the victory all but in his grasp already. _non nobis, non nobis, domine exercituum, sed nomini tuo des gloriam_, he cried in answer to the congratulations of his friends, as he began the decisive movement. concentrating as rapidly as possible the bulk of the cavalry of the whole army, german and polish, upon the right wing,[23] he led them to the charge, directly upon the spot where the vizier with blows, tears, and curses, was endeavouring to rally the soldiers, whom his own ill-conduct had deprived of their wonted valour. the turkish infantry without pikes, their cavalry without heavy armour, were incapable of withstanding the shock of the heavy german cuirassiers, or of arresting the rush of the polish nobles, whose spears, as they boasted to their kings, would uphold the heavens should they fall. their king at their head, they came down like a whirlwind to the shout of "god preserve poland." the spears of the first line were splintered against the few who awaited them, but their onset was irresistible. spahis and janissaries, tartars and christian allies alike went down before the polish lances, or turned and fled in headlong confusion. the old pasha of pesth, the greatest of the turkish warriors in reputation, had fled already. the pashas of aleppo and of silistria perished in the _melée_. "can you not help me?" cried the vizier, turning to the khan of the crimea. "no," was the reply; "i know the king of poland well, it is impossible to resist him; think only of flight."[24] away through the wasted borders of austria, away to the hungarian frontier, to their army that lay before raab, poured the fugitives. there seldom has been a deliverance more complete and more decisive. the terror which had so long weighed upon eastern christendom was dissolved in that headlong rout. it was more than the scattering of an army; the strength of an empire was dissipated on that day. resources which had been accumulating for years were destroyed; and such an expedition, so numerous and so well furnished, never was sent forth by the ottoman again. the victory lacked nothing to render it more striking, either in suddenness, in completeness, or in situation. the whole action had been comprised in the hours between sunrise and sunset, before the gates of one of the greatest capitals in europe. we may borrow indeed the words of eugene, used in his despatch describing the last victory of the war at zenta, to picture the last hours of that evening before vienna. for upon the summits of the weiner-wald, whence the allies had descended that morning to a yet doubtful field, "the sun seemed to linger, loath to leave the day, until his rays had illumined to the end the triumph of the glorious arms" of poland and "of the empire." there was no want of individual courage among the turks. "they made the best retreat you can conceive," wrote the king, for hard pressed they would turn sword in hand upon their pursuers. but the head which should have directed that courage was wanting; and for that want they were a gallant mob, but no longer an army. grateful for the result though we may be, there is something pathetic in the magnificent valour of a race of soldiers being frustrated by such incapacity. the christians, exhausted by the toils of the last few days, could not pursue to any distance. the imperial general dünewald indeed with a few squadrons of austrians and poles, the stoutest steeds or the keenest riders, despising both plunder and fatigue, pushed straight on through the twilight to enzersdorf, where the road crossed the stream of the fischa, ten miles from vienna, and there bursting on the line of flight made a slaughter of the fugitives, which showed how much they owed to the night and to the weariness of their conquerors. but there was no general pursuit on the part of the allies. their commanders were doubtful of the full extent of their victory, and feared lest from such a multitude some part might rally and destroy the too eager followers whom they still outnumbered. but without pursuit their work was done. at seven, louis of baden had opened a communication with the besieged, and the garrison sallying forth joined the relieving army in the slaughter of the janissaries who had remained, neglected or forgotten, in the trenches. even then one miner was found, doggedly toiling in his gallery beneath the ramparts, ignorant of the flight or death of his companions; perhaps from among so many the last staunch soldier of the prophet. i cannot conceive, wrote sobieski, how they can carry on the war after such a loss of _matériel_. the whole of the artillery of the turks, their munitions, and their baggage were the spoil of the victors. three hundred and ten pieces of cannon, twenty thousand animals, nine thousand carriages, one hundred and twenty-five thousand tents, five million pounds of powder are enumerated. the holy standard of the prophet had been saved, but the standard of the vizier, mistaken for it, was sent to the pope by the conqueror, while his gilded stirrups were despatched at once to poland to the queen, as a token of victory. never, perhaps, since alexander stood a victor at issus in the tents of darius, or the greeks stormed the persian camp at platæa, had an european army entered upon such spoil. much money had been saved by the turks in their flight; but precious stuffs and jewelled arms, belts thick with diamonds, intended to encircle the fair captives of vienna, the varied plunder of many a castle of hungary and of lower austria, were found piled in the encampment. in the vizier's quarters were gardens laid out with baths and fountains, a menagerie, even a rabbit warren. his encampment alone formed a labyrinth of tents, by itself of the circumference of a little town, and with its contents declared the character of its late owner. an ostrich, previously taken from an imperial castle, was found beheaded to prevent recapture. a parrot, more fortunate, escaped upon the wing. the polish envoy was discovered in the camp in chains, forgotten during the turmoil, and thus saved from the death promised him if his master should take the field. the imperial agent at the porte, kunitz, had escaped into the town during the battle; but the mass of christian captives had not been so happy. before the battle the vizier had ordered a general massacre of prisoners, and the camp was cumbered with the bodies of men, women, and children, but for the most part of women, foully slaughtered. the benevolent energy of the bishop of neustadt, above-mentioned, found employment in caring for five hundred children, who had, with their mothers in a few cases, escaped the sword. the night was passed in the camp by the victors, who were intent on securing their victory or their plunder. not till the following morning did the king meet lorraine and exchange congratulations upon their success. then, with the commandant starhemberg, they entered the city, passing over those well-contested breaches, which but for them might have been that day trodden by the janissaries. they repaired to the churches for a solemn thanksgiving. sobieski himself sang the _te deum_ in one of them. nothing could exceed the enthusiastic gratitude of the people, who barely allowed a passage to the horse of their deliverer. the priest, after the _te deum_ ended, by a happy inspiration or plagiarism, gave out the words, "_there was a man sent from god, whose name was john._"[25] a salute of three hundred guns proclaimed the victory far and wide, and the shouts of "_vivat sobieski!_" that filled the city out-thundered the thunder of the cannon. their walls were a chaos, their habitations a ruin, but the citizens rejoiced as those rejoice whom the lord hath redeemed and delivered from the hand of the enemy. they were as men released not only from the sword, pestilence, and famine, but from prison besides. they poured forth to taste again the sweets of liberty, wondered at the trenches, or joined in the pillage of the camp, where the air was already sickening from the thousands of the slain, and foul from the refuse of the barbaric encampment. but amid all the popular rejoicing, the king could not but observe the coldness of the magistracy. the emperor could not endure that any but himself should triumph in vienna, and his feelings were reflected in his servants. on hearing of the victory he had returned to the neighbourhood of the city. a council was held to settle the weighty point as to how the elective emperor was to receive the elective king. "with open arms, since he has saved the empire," said lorraine; but leopold would not descend to such an indecorum. he strove to avoid a meeting with the deliverer of his capital, and when the meeting was arranged could barely speak a few cold words in latin, well answered by sobieski, who, saying, "i am happy, sire, to have been able to render you this slight service," turned his horse, saluted, and rode away. a few complimentary presents to prince james and to the polish nobles did not efface the impression of ingratitude. the german writers minimize the coldness of the emperor, but sobieski was at the moment undoubtedly aggrieved, and others were discontented. footnotes: [20] the _turkenschanze_, traces of which lately remained. [21] in 1717 eugene, in like case with the vizier now, was besieging belgrade, and was himself surrounded by a large turkish army. however, he defeated the relieving army and took the city. [22] there is a proverb, "_vienna aut venenosa aut ventosa_." she was giving to her deliverers successive displays of her character. [23] sobieski's letter of september 13. [24] sobieski's letter of september 13. he must have heard of the conversation from the vizier's attendants taken in his encampment. [25] it was the exclamation of the pope, pius v., on hearing of the victory of don john of austria over the turks at lepanto, in 1571. chapter viii. neglected and distrusted by the sovereign whom he had delivered, sobieski found consolation in detailing his victory, his spoil, and his wrongs alike to his wife. we find the great soldier again, in the full flush of his victory, writing indefatigably to his _mariette_. it is on the night of the 13th, in the vizier's late quarters, in the camp still cumbered with the slaughter of the combatants and of prisoners. the loss had been heavy in the fighting upon both sides, he tells us; and such an estimate, formed at such a moment by the victorious general, by far outweighs the accounts by which the french above all tried to minimize the slaughter made, and with it the greatness of the victory won.[26] he begins his letter: "god be blessed for ever. he has given victory to our people; he has given them such a triumph that past ages have not seen the like." all around, the explosions of the turkish ammunition, fired by the plunderers from city and army, "make a din like the last judgment." he plunges into a description of the riches that the camp contains. "the vizier has made me his heir; he has done everything _en galant homme_." "you cannot say to me, 'you are no warrior,' as the tartar women say to their husbands when they return empty-handed." "for two nights and a day plunder has gone on at will; even the townsfolk have taken their share, and i am sure that there is enough left for eight days more. the plunder we got at choczim was nothing to this." there was a touch of the barbaric chieftain in the polish king, and he keenly enjoyed not merely the victory, but the spoil which he had won. at the end of the seventeenth century, the character of this general of the school of montecuculi, this admirer of condé, recalls to us at once the ardour of a crusader, and the affectionate rapacity of a moss-trooper, reserving the richest plunder of a foray to deck his wife at home. he exults in the belts and in the watches studded with jewels, the stuffs and the embroideries which are to adorn his wife's boudoir. but he is still bent on action. "we must march to-morrow for hungary," he says, "and start at the double, to escape the smell of the camp and its refuse, with the thousands of bodies of men and of animals lying unburied." one letter, at least, he had despatched before writing to his wife. he knew well the feelings with which the king of france would regard the salvation of the empire, and the setting free of the attention of germany to be directed to his own designs. in sobieski's own words to his wife, he thus reveals his triumph over the french king, whose intrigues had been ceaselessly directed to prevent his coming: "i have written to the king of france; i have told him that it was to him especially, as to the most christian king, that i felt bound to convey the information of the battle that we have won, and of the safety of christendom." this letter remained unanswered. it is said that the proofs of louis' dealings with the turks had at that moment passed into the hands of the victors, amid the plunder of the vizier's quarters. no sooner had louis heard that the intrigues of his agents had failed, and that sobieski was actually in the field, than his armies were let loose upon the spanish netherlands. unable to anticipate the victory at vienna, the french revenged it by seizing courtrai and dixmunde in the autumn, and bombarding luxemburg before the end of the year. the french nobility had been forbidden to hasten to the defence of christendom; and now were inclined to depreciate, at least in words, the victory they had not shared. amidst the general chorus of admiration and of thankfulness which rose from europe, in france, and in france alone, were the deeds of sobieski slighted. he had cut in pieces not only the turks, but the prophecies which had filled paris of the approaching downfall of the house of austria. the allies of that house took a bolder tone; spain talked of the declaration of that war against louis which he had provoked for so long; the united provinces listened to the warlike councils of the prince of orange; the emperor spoke decidedly of succouring all his friends. far different was to be the progress of louis' aggressions upon germany, now that the overmastering fear of turkish invasion was done away with, and the turkish hold upon hungary loosened. the alliance of laxenberg and the other leagues were now to ripen into the great confederacy of augsburg and the grand alliance. upon the ottoman power the effect of the victory was decisive. turkish rule in hungary had received a blow from which it never recovered. it is true that sobieski, advancing rashly with his cavalry alone, shortly involved himself in a disaster, near the bridge of the danube, opposite gran. the king himself had to ride for his life from the turkish horsemen. the check, however, was avenged by the complete destruction of the force which had inflicted it; and the fortress of gran, the most important place upon that side of hungary, became the prize of the conqueror. the views of sobieski embraced the reduction of buda, and, perhaps, of the whole of hungary, in this campaign. but this was forbidden by the lateness of the season, still more by the jealousy of the emperor. the king warred against the turks, but not against the hungarians. he sympathized with their efforts to regain their liberties, and strove to reconcile rather than to subdue tekeli. leopold was fearful of the establishment of a polish interest in the country, and showed a studied neglect of his allies. but had other causes allowed, the insubordination of the poles would have prevented further conquests. the polish nobility, the political masters of their king, were foremost in clamouring for a return to their native country. a prolonged career of conquest was impossible at the head of such a state and army. the hopes of a hungarian alliance died away. tekeli, after much hesitation, refused to enter into the negotiations which the king proposed; and reluctantly the deliverer of christendom withdrew through upper hungary into poland again, reducing some towns upon the road, but leaving his great work half done. his army melted in his hands. the tardy lithuanians, too late for the fighting, arrived to add to his vexation in moravia, where they disgraced their country by pillaging the people whom they had not helped to save. but sobieski was not alone in suffering from the emperor's ingratitude. starhemberg, the defender of the city, was deservedly rewarded; but most of the others, from lorraine downwards, who had participated in the battle, had little recompense for their services. even the ardour of the elector of bavaria was for a time cooled by the coolness of the emperor, though he returned again to the service of his future father-in-law. the elector of saxony, waldeck, and others left the scene of the campaign to enjoy their triumph, or to plunge into other enterprises; but under lorraine, and a series of generals, culminating in that eugene of savoy, who had seen his first service at vienna, the turks were driven foot by foot from hungary. kara mustapha shortly paid for his defeat, as ottoman commanders did pay--with his head, suffering not unjustly. but his successors, though less incompetent, were scarcely on the whole more fortunate than he. in vain a new kiuprili was found to head the turkish armies and to reform the turkish state. a short gleam of success under his leadership was ended by his death in battle. in vain a sultan, mustapha ii., again appeared himself at the head of his armies. the means of warfare of the ottomans were to a great extent expended and lost beyond repair in the great disaster at vienna. new enemies rose up against them in their weakness. russia in the ukraine, venice in the morea and in dalmatia, began conquests at the expense of the porte. the war indeed dragged on, delayed by the renewed contest between france and the augsburg league; but the very weakness of austria served merely to show more clearly the fallen fortunes of the turks, who could make no lasting stand against her. steadily upon the whole the fortunes of the ottomans declined, though it was not till the great victory of eugene at zenta, in 1697, that they were driven reluctantly to treat. the peace signed at carlowitz, in 1699, illustrates the altered relations of europe since the beginning of the war, when the turks had been a menace to germany. for the first time, an european conference considered the affairs of turkey. england and holland were mediators of the peace, that the emperor might be more free to act with them in the coming war of the spanish succession. sobieski had nearly three years earlier become a memory, with his victories, his schemes, and his disappointments, in the grave; and with him ended the ever unstable greatness of poland. another yet more notable northern sovereign, peter the czar, was a party to the negotiations. everywhere was territory rent from turkey. to austria, she yielded nearly all of hungary and transylvania, with most of the sclavonian lands between the save and the drave; to poland, she gave up podolia; to russia, azof; to venice, the morea and parts of dalmatia. one point she proudly refused to yield. the hungarian tekeli and his friends, who had sought her hospitality, were retained by her, safe from the vengeance of the emperor; as in 1849 other hungarian exiles were shielded by the turks, against the vengeance of austria and of russia combined. this was the first peace which had permanently reduced the frontiers of the ottomans; it marked the termination of the last of the great mohammedan aggressions upon christendom; it saw the end of the secret understandings by which, since the days of francis i., france had endeavoured to use turkey for the subversion of austria and for the ends of her own ambition. the complete reversal of the former positions of the combatants, the disastrous termination of the war for turkey, the "rolling away of the stone of tantalus that hung above _their_ heads, the intolerable woe for the _germans_",[27] the far-reaching results of the struggle in the future history of europe--all are traceable to the day when the genius of sobieski marked triumphantly, from the windy heights of the kahlenberg, that fatal incapacity which should open for him the way, as victorious deliverer, to the foot of the ruined ramparts of vienna. but naturally, before concluding our consideration of the subject, we ask what gain did poland, or the king of poland, gather from the enterprise in which he had played so glorious a part? for a few months he was the centre of the admiring eyes of christendom. "_l'empire du monde vous serait du si le ciel l'eût réservé à un seul potentat_," wrote christina of sweden from rome, not without a glance at the pretensions of louis xiv. to supremacy, and of leopold to an imperial primacy in europe. never before had poland filled so great a place in the eyes of the world. the cautious venetians sought her special alliance. in the language of diplomacy she was _respublica serenissima_; but untroubled she never was, and her greatness was of short duration. it is true that the frontiers of the state were relieved of a constant fear. the turks were for the time broken, the tartars were crushed, the cossacks of the ukraine again reduced to submission. but sobieski had fought and had conquered for others. his country was incapable of gathering the fruits of victory; incapable of prolonged effort, and therefore of lasting success. at the peace of carlowitz, podolia, with the fortress of kaminiec, was recovered; but moldavia had been in vain invaded by the poles; and the turks, it was soon seen, were beaten for the benefit of austria; the tartars for the benefit of russia. the king of poland, alive to the shortcomings of his countrymen, was unable to correct them. a man who was at least the most eminent soldier, general we may not say, of europe; a man who above all others living fulfilled the character of a hero; a king who had saved his country; a husband who was devoted to his wife, found himself thwarted by his subjects, and distracted by quarrels in his family. no doubt he laboured to render the crown hereditary in his house, a service to his country it would have been had he succeeded; but the jealousy of the poles, still more that of the neighbouring sovereigns, and to some extent the misconduct of his wife, rendered this impossible. he found himself the object of an empty respect, but the wielder of no authority; he saw his country without order, without steadiness of purpose, unable to follow any settled policy in conjunction either with france or with the enemies of france. the factions of the diet left him without soldiers and without money. not for the first, but nearly for the last time, the poles were victorious in battle, but were destined to fail woefully in attaining the objects of war. the end was not far off. sobieski was followed by a foreigner upon the throne, and within ten years of his death, charles xii. of sweden was disposing as a conqueror of the crown of poland. the prey to the ambition of her neighbours his country has remained, now like her king a memory, to serve as a lesson of the consequences of the disregard of those restraints and of that self-control which alone can render freedom safe and liberty a blessing. for want of these her place has vanished from the map of europe, sooner even than that of the foe whom she destroyed. footnotes: [26] a moderate estimate of the christian loss is five thousand men, or about one-fifteenth of those on the field; a loss in about the same proportion as that of both sides at sadowa. the poles alone confessed to the loss of one hundred officers killed, and they were neither so long nor so hotly engaged as the left wing. the loss of the centre was probably less. thürheim and schimmer give of the allies four thousand, and twenty-five thousand turks; but the latter figures are quite uncertain, and the christians made the least of their losses. as the fight was so much hand-to-hand, with little artillery fire, it would resemble ancient battles, where the loss of the vanquished was always disproportionately large. the memoirs of the duke of lorraine simply say, that "for about three hours the fighting was very bloody upon both sides." fighting, however, had began soon after daybreak, and the pursuit lasted till nightfall. [27] [greek: epeidê ton huper kephalas ge tantalon lithon para tis etrepsen ammi theos, atolmaton elladi mochthon.] pindar, isth. viii. 10. written after the repulse of the great persian invasion. the end. printed by william clowes and sons, limited, london and beccles. [illustration: map archiducatus austriae inferioris geographics et noviter emendata accuratissima descriptio. (1697.)] the balkan wars 1912-1913 jacob gould schurman third edition 1916 preface to the second edition the interest in the balkan wars of 1912-1913 has exceeded the expectations of the publishers of this volume. the first edition, which was published five months ago, is already exhausted and a second is now called for. meanwhile there has broken out and is now in progress a war which is generally regarded as the greatest of all time--a war already involving five of the six great powers and three of the smaller nations of europe as well as japan and turkey and likely at any time to embroil other countries in europe, asia, and africa, which are already embraced in the area of military operations. this war of many nations had its origin in balkan situation. it began on july 28 with the declaration of the dual monarchy to the effect that from that moment austria-hungary was in a state of war with servia. and the fundamental reason for this declaration as given in the note or ultimatum to servia was the charge that the servian authorities had encouraged the pan-serb agitation which seriously menaced the integrity of austria-hungary and had already caused the assassination at serajevo of the heir to the throne. no one could have observed at close range the balkan wars of 1912-1913 without perceiving, always in the background and occasionally in the foreground, the colossal rival figures of russia and austria-hungary. attention was called to the phenomenon at various points in this volume and especially in the concluding pages. the issue of the balkan struggles of 1912-1913 was undoubtedly favorable to russia. by her constant diplomatic support she retained the friendship and earned the gratitude of greece, montenegro, and servia; and through her championship, belated though it was, of the claims of roumania to territorial compensation for benevolent neutrality during the war of the allies against turkey, she won the friendship of the predominant balkan power which had hitherto been regarded as the immovable eastern outpost of the triple alliance. but while russia was victorious she did not gain all that she had planned and hoped for. her very triumph at bukarest was a proof that she had lost her influence over bulgaria. this slav state after the war against turkey came under the influence of austria-hungary, by whom she was undoubtedly incited to strife with servia and her other partners in the late war against turkey. russia was unable to prevent the second balkan war between the allies. the czar's summons to the kings of bulgaria and servia on june 9, 1913, to submit, in the name of pan-slavism, their disputes to his decision failed to produce the desired effect, while this assumption of russian hegemony in balkan affairs greatly exacerbated austro-hungarian sentiment. that action of the czar, however, was clear notification and proof to all the world that russia regarded the slav states in the balkans as objects of her peculiar concern and protection. the first balkan war--the war of the allies against turkey--ended in a way that surprised all the world. everybody expected a victory for the turks. that the turks should one day be driven out of europe was the universal assumption, but it was the equally fixed belief that the agents of their expulsion would be the great powers or some of the great powers. that the little independent states of the balkans should themselves be equal to the task no one imagined,--no one with the possible exception of the government of russia. and as russia rejoiced over the victory of the balkan states and the defeat of her secular mohammedan neighbor, austria-hungary looked on not only with amazement but with disappointment and chagrin. for the contemporaneous diplomacy of the austro-hungarian government was based on the assumption that the balkan states would be vanquished by turkey. and its standing policy had been on the one hand to keep the kingdom of servia small and weak (for the dual monarchy was itself an important serb state) and on the other hand to broaden her adriatic possessions and also to make her way through novi bazar and macedonia to saloniki and the aegean, when the time came to secure this concession from the sultan without provoking a european war. it seemed in 1908 as though the favorable moment had arrived to make a first move, and the austro-hungarian government put forward a project for connecting the bosnian and macedonian railway systems. but the only result was to bring to an end the co-operation which had for some years been maintained between the austrian and russian governments in the enforcement upon the porte of the adoption of reforms in macedonia. and now the result of the balkan wars of 1912-1913 was the practical expulsion of turkey from europe and the territorial aggrandizement of servia and the sister state of montenegro through the annexation of those very turkish domains which lay between the austro-hungarian frontier and the aegean. at every point austro-hungarian policies had met with reverses. only one success could possibly be attributed to the diplomacy of the ballplatz. the exclusion of servia from the adriatic sea and the establishment of the independent state of albania was the achievement of count berchtold, the austro-hungarian minister of foreign affairs. the new state has been a powder magazine from the beginning, and since the withdrawal of prince william of wied, the government, always powerless, has fallen into chaos. intervention on the part of neighboring states is inevitable. and only last month the southern part of albania--that is, northern epirus--was occupied by a greek army for the purpose of ending the sanguinary anarchy which has hitherto prevailed. this action will be no surprise to the readers of this volume. the occupation, or rather re-occupation, is declared by the greek government to be provisional and it is apparently approved by all the great powers. throughout the rest of albania similar intervention will be necessary to establish order, and to protect the life and property of the inhabitants without distinction of race, tribe, or creed. servia might perhaps have governed the country, had she not been compelled by the great powers, at the instigation of austria-hungary, to withdraw her forces. and her extrusion from the adriatic threw her back toward the aegean, with the result of shutting bulgaria out of central macedonia, which was annexed by greece and servia presumably under arrangements satisfactory to the latter for an outlet to the sea at saloniki. the war declared by austria-hungary against servia may be regarded to some extent as an effort to nullify in the interests of the former the enormous advantages which accrued directly to servia and indirectly to russia from the balkan wars of 1912-1913. that russia should have come to the support of servia was as easy to foresee as any future political event whatever. and the action of germany and france once war had broken out between their respective allies followed as a matter of course. if the austro-german alliance wins in the war of many nations it will doubtless control the eastern adriatic and open up a way for itself to the aegean. indeed, in that event, german trade and german political influence would spread unchallenged across the continents from the north sea to the persian gulf and the indian ocean. turkey is a friend and ally; but even if turkey were hostile she would have no strength to resist such victorious powers. and the balkan states, with the defeat of russia, would be compelled to recognize germanic supremacy. if on the other hand the allies come out victorious in the war of many nations, servia and perhaps roumania would be permitted to annex the provinces occupied by their brethren in the dual monarchy and servian expansion to the adriatic would be assured. the balkan states would almost inevitably fall under the controlling influence of russia, who would become mistress of constantinople and gain an unrestricted outlet to the mediterranean through the bosphorus, the sea of marmora, and the dardanelles. in spite of themselves the destiny of the peoples of the balkans is once more set on the issue of war. it is not inconceivable, therefore, that some or all of those states may be drawn into the present colossal conflict. in 1912-1913 the first war showed bulgaria, greece, montenegro, and servia allied against turkey; and in the second war greece, montenegro, and servia were joined by roumania in the war against bulgaria, who was also independently attacked by turkey. what may happen in 1914 or 1915 no one can predict. but if this terrible conflagration, which is already devastating europe and convulsing all the continents and vexing all the oceans of the globe, spreads to the balkans, one may hazard the guess that greece, montenegro, servia, and roumania will stand together on the side of the allies and that bulgaria if she is not carried away by marked austro-german victories will remain neutral,--unless indeed the other balkan states win her over, as they not inconceivably might do, if they rose to the heights of unwonted statesmanship by recognizing her claim to that part of macedonia in which the bulgarian element predominates but which was ceded to her rivals by the treaty of bukarest. but i have said enough to indicate that as in its origin so also in its results this awful cataclysm under which the civilized world is now reeling will be found to be vitally connected with the balkan wars of 1912-1913. and i conclude with the hope that the present volume, which devotes indeed but little space to military matters and none at all to atrocities and massacres, may prove helpful to readers who seek light on the underlying conditions, the causes, and the consequences of those historic struggles. the favor already accorded to the work and the rapid exhaustion of the first edition* seem to furnish some justification of this hope. jacob gould schurman. november 26, 1914. * the present work is rather, a reprint than a new edition, few changes having been made except the correction of typographical errors. introduction the changes made in the map of europe by the balkan wars of 1912-1913 were not merely the occasion but a cause and probably the most potent, and certainly the most urgent, of all the causes that led to the world war which has been raging with such titanic fury since the summer of 1914. had the balkan allies after their triumph over turkey not fallen out amongst themselves, had there been no second balkan war in 1913, had the turkish provinces wrested from the porte by the united arms of bulgaria, greece, servia, and montenegro been divided amongst the victors either by diplomacy or arbitration substantial justice would have been done to all, none of them would have been humiliated, and their moderation and concord would have commended their achievement to the great powers who might perhaps have secured the acquiescence of austria-hungary in the necessary enlargement of servia and the expansion of greece to saloniki and beyond. but the outbreak of the second balkan war nullified all these fair prospects. and bulgaria, who brought it on, found herself encircled by enemies, including not only all her recent allies against turkey, but also turkey herself, and even roumania, who had remained a neutral spectator of the first balkan war. of course bulgaria was defeated. and a terrible punishment was inflicted on her. she was stripped of a large part of the territory she had just conquered from turkey, including her most glorious battle-fields; her original provinces were dismembered; her extension to the aegean sea was seriously obstructed, if not practically blocked; and, bitterest and most tragic of all, the redemption of the bulgarians in macedonia, which was the principal object and motive of her war against turkey in 1912, was frustrated and rendered hopeless by greek and servian annexations of macedonian territory extending from the mesta to the drin with the great cities of saloniki, kavala, and monastir, which in the patriotic national consciousness had long loomed up as fixed points in the "manifest destiny" of bulgaria. that the responsibility for precipitating the second balkan war rests on bulgaria is demonstrated in the latter portion of this volume. yet the intransigent and bellicose policy of bulgaria was from the point of view of her own interests so short-sighted, so perilous, so foolish and insane that it seemed, even at the time, to be directed by some external power and for some ulterior purpose. no proof, however, was then available. but hints of that suspicion were clearly conveyed even in the first edition of this volume, which, it may be recalled, antedates the outbreak of the great european war. thus, on page 103, the question was put: "must we assume that there is some ground for suspecting that austria-hungary was inciting bulgaria to war?" and again, on page 108, with reference to general savoff's order directing the attack on the greek and servian forces which initiated the second balkan war, the inquiry was made: "did general savoff act on his own responsibility? or is there any truth in the charge that king ferdinand, after a long consultation with the austro-hungarian minister, instructed the general to issue the order?" these questions may now be answered with positive assurance. what was only surmise when this volume was written is to-day indubitable certainty. the proof is furnished by the highest authorities both italian and russian. when the second balkan war broke out san giuliano was prime minister of italy. and he has recently published the fact that at that time--the summer of 1913--the austro-hungarian government communicated to the italian government its intention of making war on servia and claimed under the terms of the triple alliance the co-operation of italy and germany. the italian government repudiated the obligation imputed to it by austria-hungary and flatly declared that the triple alliance had nothing to do with a war of aggression. that austria-hungary did not proceed to declare war against servia at that time--perhaps because she was discouraged by germany as well as by italy--makes it all the more intelligible, in view of her bellicose attitude, that she should have been urgent and insistent in pushing bulgaria forward to smite their common rival. this conclusion is confirmed by the positive statement of the russian government. the communication accompanying the declaration of war against bulgaria, dated october 18, contains the following passage: "the victorious war of the united balkan people against their ancient enemy, turkey, assured to bulgaria an honorable place in the slavic family. but under austro-german suggestion, contrary to the advice of the russian emperor and without the knowledge of the bulgarian government, the coburg prince on june 29, 1913, moved bulgarian armies against the serbians." the "coburg prince" is of course ferdinand, king of bulgaria. that he acted under austro-hungarian influences in attacking his balkan allies on that fateful sunday, june 29, 1913, is no longer susceptible of doubt. but whatever other inferences may be drawn from that conclusion it certainly makes the course of bulgaria in launching the second balkan war, though its moral character remains unchanged, look less hopeless and desperate than it otherwise appeared. had she not austria-hungary behind her? and had not austria-hungary at that very time informed her italian ally that she intended making war against servia? but, whatever the explanation, the thunderbolt forged in 1913 was not launched till july 28, 1914, when austria-hungary formally declared war on servia. the occasion was the assassination, a month earlier, of the heir to the throne, archduke franz ferdinand and his wife, the duchess of hohenburg, in the streets of sarajevo. the occasion, however, was not the cause of the war. the cause was that which moved the dual monarchy to announce a war on servia in the summer of 1913, namely, dissatisfaction with the territorial aggrandizement of servia as a result of the first balkan war and alarm at the pan-serb agitation and propaganda which followed the servian victories over turkey. these motives had subsequently been much intensified by the triumph of servia over bulgaria in the second balkan war. the relations of austria-hungary to servia had been acutely strained since october, 1908, when the former annexed the turkish provinces of bosnia and herzegovina, which under the terms of the treaty of berlin she had been administering since 1878. the inhabitants of bosnia and herzegovina are serb, and serb also are the inhabitants of dalmatia on the west and croatia on the north, which the dual monarchy had already brought under its sceptre. the new annexation therefore seemed a fatal and a final blow to the national aspirations of the serb race and it was bitterly resented by those who had already been gathered together and "redeemed" in the kingdom of servia. a second disastrous consequence of the annexation was that it left servia hopelessly land-locked. the serb population of dalmatia and herzegovina looked out on the adriatic along a considerable section of its eastern coast, but servia's long-cherished hope of becoming a maritime state by the annexation of the serb provinces of bosnia and herzegovina was now definitively at an end. she protested, she appealed, she threatened; but with germany behind the dual monarchy and russia still weak from the effects of the war with japan, she was quickly compelled to submit to superior force. during the war of the balkan allies against turkey servia made one more effort to get to the adriatic,--this time by way of albania. she marched her forces over the mountains of that almost impassable country and reached the sea at durazzo. but she was forced back by the european powers at the demand of austria-hungary, as some weeks later on the same compulsion she had to withdraw from the siege of scutari. then she turned toward the aegean, and the second balkan war gave her a new opportunity. the treaty of bukarest and the convention with greece assured her of an outlet to the sea at saloniki. but this settlement proved scarcely less objectionable to austria-hungary than the earlier dream of servian expansion to the adriatic by the annexation of the turkish provinces of bosnia and herzegovina. the fact is that, if we look at the matter dispassionately and in a purely objective spirit, we shall find that there really was a hopeless incompatibility between the ideals, aims, policies, and interests of the servians and the serb race and those of the austrians and hungarians. any aggrandizement of the kingdom of servia, any enlargement of its territory, any extension to the sea and especially to the adriatic, any heightening and intensifying of the national consciousness of its people involved some danger to the dual monarchy. for besides the germans who control austria, and the hungarians who control hungary, the austro-hungarian empire embraces many millions of slavs, and the south slavs are of the same family and speak practically the same language as the inhabitants of the kingdom of servia. and austria and hungary can not get to their outlets on the adriatic--trieste and fiume--without passing through territory inhabited by these south slavs. if, therefore, austria and hungary were not to be left land-locked they must at all hazards prevent the absorption of their south slav subjects by the kingdom of servia. pan-serbism at once menaced the integrity of the austro-hungarian empire and jeopardized its position on the adriatic. hence the cardinal features in the balkan policy of austria-hungary were a ruthless repression of national aspiration among its south slav subjects--the inhabitants of croatia, dalmatia, bosnia, and herzegovina; a watchful and jealous opposition to any increase of the territory or resources of the kingdom of servia; and a stern and unalterable determination to prevent servian expansion to the adriatic. the new servia which emerged from the balkan wars of 1912-1913 was an object of anxiety and even of alarm to the statesmen of vienna and buda-pesth. the racial and national aspirations already astir among the south slavs of the dual monarchy were quickened and intensified by the great victories won by their servian brethren over both turks and bulgarians and by the spectacle of the territorial aggrandizement which accrued from those victories to the independent kingdom of servia. might not this greater servia prove a magnet to draw the kindred slavs of bosnia, herzegovina, dalmatia, and croatia away from their allegiance to an alien empire? the diplomacy of vienna had indeed succeeded in excluding servia from the adriatic but it had neither prevented its territorial aggrandizement nor blocked its access to the aegean. access to the aegean was not, however, as serious a matter as access to the adriatic. yet the expansion of servia to the south over the macedonian territory she had wrested from turkey, as legalized in the treaty of bukarest, nullified the austro-hungarian dream of expansion through novi bazar and macedonia to the aegean and the development from saloniki as a base of a great and profitable commerce with all the near and middle east. here were the conditions of a national tragedy. they have developed into a great international war, the greatest and most terrible ever waged on this planet. it may be worth while in concluding to note the relations of the balkan belligerents of 1912-1913 to the two groups of belligerents in the present world-conflict. the nemesis of the treaties of london and bukarest and the fear of the great powers pursue the balkan nations and determine their alignments. the declaration of war by austria-hungary against servia, which started the present cataclysm, fixed the enemy status of servia and also montenegro. the good relations long subsisting between emperor william and the porte were a guarantee to the central powers of the support of turkey, which quickly declared in their favor. the desire of avenging the injury done her by the treaty of bukarest and the prospect of territorial aggrandizement at the expense of her sister slav nation on the west drew bulgaria (which was influenced also by the victories of the germanic forces) into the same group in company with turkey, her enemy in both the balkan wars of 1912-1913. bulgaria's opportunity for revenge soon arrived. it was the bulgarian army, in cooperation with the austro-german forces, that overran servia and montenegro and drove the national armies beyond their own boundaries into foreign territory. if the fortunes of war turn and the entente powers get the upper hand in the balkans, these expelled armies of servia and montenegro, who after rest and reorganization and re-equipping in corfu have this summer been transported by france and england to saloniki, may have the satisfaction of devastating the territory of the sister slav state of bulgaria, quite in the divisive and internecine spirit of all balkan history. the fate and future of bulgaria, servia, and montenegro now depend on the issue of the great european conflict. the same thing is true of turkey, into which meanwhile russian forces, traversing the caucasus, have driven a dangerous wedge through armenia towards mesopotamia. roumania has thus far maintained the policy of neutrality to which she adhered so successfully in the first balkan war--a policy which in view of her geographical situation, with bulgaria to the south, russia to the north, and austria-hungary to the west, she cannot safely abandon till fortune has declared more decisively for one or the other group of belligerents. the only remaining party to the balkan wars is greece, and the situation of greece, though not tragic like that of servia, must be exceedingly humiliating to the greek nation and to the whole hellenic race. when the war broke out, mr. venizelos was still prime minister of greece. his policy was to go loyally to the assistance of servia, as required by the treaty between the two countries; to defend new greece against bulgaria, to whom, however, he was ready to make some concessions on the basis of a quid pro quo; and to join and co-operate actively with the entente powers on the assurance of receiving territorial compensation in asia minor. king constantine, on the other hand, seems to have held that the war of the great powers in the balkans practically abrogated the treaty between greece and servia and that, in any event, greek resistance to the central powers was useless. the positive programme of the king was to maintain neutrality between the two groups of belligerents and at the same time to keep the greek army mobilized. between these two policies the greek nation wavered and hesitated; but the king, who enjoyed the complete confidence of the general staff, had his way and the cabinet of mr. venizelos was replaced by another in sympathy with the policy of the neutrality of greece and the mobilization of the greek army. it was, under all the circumstances of the case, an exceedingly difficult policy to carry out successfully. each group of the belligerents wanted special favors; the nation was divided on the subject of neutrality; the expense of keeping the army mobilized was ruinous to the country; and the views and sympathies of the greatest statesman modern greece had ever had remained out of office, as they had been in office, diametrically opposed to those of the victorious warrior-king and doubtless also of the queen, the sister of the german emperor. this condition was one of unstable equilibrium which could not long continue. it was upset on may 26, 1916, by a bulgarian invasion of greek territory and the seizure of fort rupel, one of the keys to the struma valley and to eastern macedonia. the cities of seres and drama with their large greek population, and even kavala are now in danger, and the greek people seem greatly stirred by the situation. mr. venizelos in a newspaper article bitterly asks: "who could have imagined a greek army witnessing the bulgarian flag replacing that of greece? is it for this that our mobilization is maintained?" but, while greece has been invaded by bulgaria, with the support of germany (who, however, has given a written promise that the greek territory now occupied shall be restored), greek sovereignty has since suffered another severe shock by the intervention of great britain, france, and russia, who, under the protocol of london, are the protecting powers of the kingdom. these powers demand of the greek government that the army shall be completely and immediately demobilized, that the present cabinet shall be replaced by another which shall guarantee benevolent neutrality toward the entente powers, that the chamber shall be immediately dissolved and new elections held, and that certain public functionaries obnoxious to the legations of the allies shall be replaced. and statements from athens dated june 21 announce that greece, under the menace of an embargo maintained by the allied navies, has yielded to these demands. with greece humiliated by the protecting powers and her territory occupied by bulgaria, with servia and montenegro overrun and occupied by the german-austrian-bulgarian forces, with roumania waiting to see which of the belligerent groups will be finally victorious, with bulgaria now basking in the sunshine of the central powers but an object of hatred to all the allied powers and especially to russia, one may be pardoned for refusing to make any guess whatever as to the way in which the resultant diagonal of the parallelogram of european forces will ultimately run through the balkans. fortunately also such prediction has no place in an account of the balkan wars of 1912-1913. to-day the balkan nations are the pawns of the great powers who are directly responsible for the deplorable conditions that now exist among them. yet in a very real sense their present tragic situation is the nemesis of the political sins of the balkan nations themselves. these sins are those of all undeveloped political communities. even the most highly civilized nations may temporarily fall under their sway, and then civilization reverts to barbarism, as the terrible condition of europe to-day actually demonstrates. but the acute disease from which europe suffers is more or less chronic in the balkans, where elemental human nature has never been thoroughly disciplined and chastened in the school of peaceful political life and experience. each for himself without regard to others or even without thought of a future day of reckoning seems to be the maxim of national conduct among the balkan peoples. the spirit of strife and division possesses them; they are dominated by the uncontrolled instinct of national egoism and greed. the second balkan war, alike in its origin, course, and conclusion, was a bald exhibition of the play of these primitive and hateful passions. the history of the world, which is also the high tribunal of the world, proves that no nation can with impunity ignore the rights of other nations or repudiate the ideal of a common good or defy the rule of righteousness by which political communities achieve it--justice, moderation, and the spirit of hopeful and unwearying conciliation. in their war against turkey in 1912 the balkan nations, for the first time in history, laid aside their mutual antagonisms and co-operated in a common cause. this union and concord marked at least the beginning of political wisdom. and it was vindicated, if ever any policy was vindicated, by the surprise and splendor of the results. my hope for the balkan nations is that they may return to this path from which they were too easily diverted in 1913. they must learn, while asserting each its own interests and advancing each its own welfare, to pay scrupulous regard to the rights and just claims of others and to co-operate wisely for the common good in a spirit of mutual confidence and good will. this high policy, as expedient as it is sound, was to a considerable extent embodied in the leadership of venizelos and pashitch and gueshoff. and where there is a leader with vision the people in the end will follow him. may the final settlement of the european war put no unnecessary obstacle in the way of the normal political development of all the balkan nations! j. g. s. president's office cornell university july 13, 1916 _postscript_. i remarked in the foregoing introduction, that roumania would not abandon her neutrality till fortune had declared more decisively for one or the other group of belligerents. that was written seven weeks ago. and within the last few days roumania has joined the allies and declared war against austria-hungary. i also noted that the unstable equilibrium which had been maintained in greece between the party of king constantine and the party of venizelos had already been upset to the disadvantage of the former. roumania's adhesion to the cause of the allies is bound to accelerate this movement. it would not be surprising if greece were any day now to follow the example of roumania. had greece in 1914 stood by venizelos and joined the allies the chances are that roumania would at that time have adopted the same course. but the opposition of king constantine delayed that consummation, directly in the case of greece, and indirectly in the case of roumania. now that the latter has cast in her lot with the allies and the former is likely at any tune to follow her example, i may be permitted to quote the forecast which i made in the preface to the second edition of this volume under date of november 26, 1914: "if this terrible conflagration, which is already devastating europe and convulsing all the continents and vexing all the oceans of the globe, spreads to the balkans, one may hazard the guess that greece, montenegro, servia, and roumania will stand together on the side of the allies and that bulgaria if she is not carried away by marked austro-german victories will remain neutral." j. g. s. september 1, 1916. [map: map1.png caption: the balkan peninsula before the wars of 1912-1913.] i turkey and the balkan states the expulsion of the turks from europe was long ago written in the book of fate. there was nothing uncertain about it except the date and the agency of destiny. the turkish empire in europe a little clan of oriental shepherds, the turks had in two generations gained possession of the whole of the northwest corner of asia minor and established themselves on the eastern shore of the bosphorus. the great city of brusa, whose groves to-day enshrine the stately beauty of their mosques and sultans' tombs, capitulated to orkhan, the son of the first sultan, in 1326; and nicaea, the cradle of the greek church and temporary capital of the greek empire, surrendered in 1330. on the other side of the bosphorus orkhan could see the domes and palaces of constantinople which, however, for another century was to remain the seat of the byzantine empire. the turks crossed the hellespont and, favored by an earthquake, marched in 1358 over the fallen walls and fortifications into the city of gallipoli. in 1361 adrianople succumbed to the attacks of orkhan's son, murad i, whose sway was soon acknowledged in thrace and macedonia, and who was destined to lead the victorious ottoman armies as far north as the danube. but though the provinces of the corrupt and effete byzantine empire were falling into the hands of the turks, the slavs were still unsubdued. lazar the serb threw down the gauntlet to murad. on the memorable field of kossovo, in 1389, the opposing forces met--murad supported by his asiatic and european vassals and allies, and lazar with his formidable army of serbs, bosnians, albanians, poles, magyars, and vlachs. few battles in the world have produced such a deep and lasting impression as this battle of kossovo, in which the christian nations after long and stubborn resistance were vanquished by the moslems. the servians still sing ballads which cast a halo of pathetic romance round their great disaster. and after more than five centuries the montenegrins continue to wear black on their caps in mourning for that fatal day. in the next two centuries the ottoman empire moved on toward the zenith of its glory. mohammed ii conquered constantinople in 1453. and in 1529 suleyman the magnificent was at the gates of vienna. suleyman's reign forms the climax of turkish history. the turks had become a central european power occupying hungary and menacing austria. suleyman's dominions extended from mecca to buda-pesth and from bagdad to algiers. he commanded the mediterranean, the euxine, and the red sea, and his navies threatened the coasts of india and spain. but the conquests of the turks were purely military. they did nothing for their subjects, whom they treated with contempt, and they wanted nothing from them but tribute and plunder. as the turks were always numerically inferior to the aggregate number of the peoples under their sway, their one standing policy was to keep them divided--divide et impera. to fan racial and religious differences among their subjects was to perpetuate the rule of the masters. the whole task of government, as the turks conceived it, was to collect tribute from the conquered and keep them in subjection by playing off their differences against one another. but a deterioration of turkish rulers set in soon after the time of suleyman with a corresponding decline in the character and efficiency of the army. and the growth of russia and the reassertion of hungary, poland, and austria were fatal to the maintenance of an alien and detested empire founded on military domination alone. by the end of the seventeenth century the turks had been driven out of austria, hungary, transylvania, and podolia, and the northern boundaries of their empire were fixed by the carpathians, the danube, and the save. how marked and rapid was the further decline of the ottoman empire may be inferred from the fact that twice in the eighteenth century austria and russia discussed the project of dividing it between them. but the inevitable disintegration of the turkish dominion was not to inure to the glorification of any of the great powers, though russia certainly contributed to the weakening of the common enemy. the decline and diminution of the ottoman empire continued throughout the nineteenth century. what happened, however, was the revolt of subject provinces and the creation out of the territory of european turkey of the independent states of greece, servia, roumania, and bulgaria. and it was bulgarians, greeks, and servians, with the active assistance of the montenegrins and the benevolent neutrality of the roumanians, who, in the war of 1912-1913, drove the turk out of europe, leaving him nothing but the city of constantinople and a territorial fringe bordered by the chataldja line of fortifications. the earlier slav empires there is historic justice in the circumstance that the turkish empire in europe met its doom at the hands of the balkan nations themselves. for these nationalities had been completely submerged and even their national consciousness annihilated under centuries of moslem intolerance, misgovernment, oppression, and cruelty. none suffered worse than bulgaria, which lay nearest to the capital of the mohammedan conqueror. yet bulgaria had had a glorious, if checkered, history long before there existed any ottoman empire either in europe or in asia. from the day their sovereign boris accepted christianity in 864 the bulgarians had made rapid and conspicuous progress in their ceaseless conflicts with the byzantine empire. the bulgarian church was recognized as independent by the greek patriarch at constantinople; its primates subsequently received the title of patriarch, and their see was established at preslav, and then successively westward at sofia, vodena, presba, and finally ochrida, which looks out on the mountains of albania. under czar simeon, the son of boris, "bulgaria," says gibbon, "assumed a rank among the civilized powers of the earth." his dominions extended from the black sea to the adriatic and comprised the greater part of macedonia, greece, albania, servia, and dalmatia; leaving only to the byzantine empire--whose civilization he introduced and sedulously promoted among the bulgarians--the cities of constantinople, saloniki, and adrianople with the territory immediately surrounding them. but this first bulgarian empire was shortlived, though the western part remained independent under samuel, who reigned, with ochrida as his capital, from 976 to 1014. four years later the byzantine emperor, basil ii, annihilated the power of samuel, and for a hundred and fifty years the bulgarian people remained subject to the rule of constantinople. in 1186 under the leadership of the brothers asen they regained their independence. and the reign of czar asen ii (1218-1240) was the most prosperous period of all bulgarian history. he restored the empire of simeon, his boast being that he had left to the byzantines nothing but constantinople and the cities round it, and he encouraged commerce, cultivated arts and letters, founded and endowed churches and monasteries, and embellished his capital, trnovo, with beautiful and magnificent buildings. after asen came a period of decline culminating in a humiliating defeat by the servians in 1330. the quarrels of the christian races of the balkans facilitated the advance of the moslem invader, who overwhelmed the serbs and their allies on the memorable field of kossovo in 1389, and four years later captured and burned the bulgarian capital, trnovo, czar shishman himself perishing obscurely in the common destruction. for five centuries bulgaria remained under moslem despotism, we ourselves being the witnesses of her emancipation in the last thirty-five years. the fate of the serbs differed only in degree from that of the bulgarians. converted to christianity in the middle of the ninth century, the major portion of the race remained till the twelfth century under either bulgarian or byzantine sovereignty. but stephen nemanyo bought under his rule herzegovina, montenegro and part of modern servia and old servia, and on his abdication in 1195 in favor of his son launched a royal dynasty which reigned over the serb people for two centuries. of that line the most distinguished member was stephen dushan, who reigned from 1331 to 1355. he wrested the whole of the balkan peninsula from the byzantine emperor, and took belgrade, bosnia, and herzegovina from the king of hungary. he encouraged literature, gave to his country a highly advanced code of laws, and protected the church whose head--the archbishop of ipek--he raised to the dignity of patriarch. on easter day 1346 he had himself crowned at uskub as "emperor of the greeks and serbs." a few years later he embarked on an enterprise by which, had he been successful, he might have changed the course of european history. it was nothing less than the capture of constantinople and the union of serbs, bulgarians, and greeks into an empire which might defend christendom against the rising power of islam. dushan was within forty miles of his goal with an army of 80,000 men when he died suddenly in camp on the 20th of december, 1355. thirty-four years later dushan's countrymen were annihilated by the turks at kossovo! all the slavonic peoples of the balkan peninsula save the brave mountaineers of montenegro came under moslem subjection. and under moslem subjection they remained till the nineteenth century. turkish oppression of slavs it is impossible to give any adequate description of the horrors of turkish rule in these christian countries of the balkans. their people, disqualified from holding even the smallest office, were absolutely helpless under the oppression of their foreign masters, who ground them down under an intolerable load of taxation and plunder. the culminating cruelty was the tribute of christian children from ten to twelve years of age who were sent to constantinople to recruit the corps of janissaries. it is not surprising that for the protection of wives and children and the safeguarding of interests the nobles of bosnia and the pomaks of southeastern bulgaria embraced the creed of their conquerors; the wonder is that the people as a whole remained true to their christian faith even at the cost of daily martyrdom from generation to generation. their fate too grew worse as the turkish power declined after the unsuccessful siege of vienna in 1683. for at first ottoman troops ravaged bulgaria as they marched through the land on their way to austria; and later disbanded soldiers in defiance of turkish authority plundered the country and committed nameless atrocities. servia was to some extent protected by her remote location, but that very circumstance bred insubordination in the janissaries, who refused to obey the local turkish governors and gave themselves up to looting, brigandage, and massacre. the national spirt of the subject races was completely crushed. the servians and bulgarians for three or four centuries lost all consciousness of a fatherland. the countrymen of simeon and dushan became mere hewers of wood and drawers of water for their foreign masters. servia and bulgaria simply disappeared. as late as 1834 kinglake in travelling to constantinople from belgrade must have passed straight across bulgaria. yet in "eothen," in which he describes his travels, he never even mentions that country or its people. it is easy to understand that this history of turkish horrors should have burned itself into the heart and soul of the resurrected servia and bulgaria of our own day. but there is another circumstance connected with the ruthless destruction and long entombment of these nationalities which it is difficult for foreigners, even the most intelligent foreigners, to understand or at any rate to grasp in its full significance. yet the sentiments to which that circumstance has given rise and which it still nourishes are as potent a factor in contemporary balkan politics as the antipathy of the christian nations to their former moslem oppressors. greek ecclesiastical domination of slav i refer to the special and exceptional position held by the greeks in the turkish dominions. though the moslems had possessed themselves of the greek empire from the bosphorus to the danube, greek domination still survived as an intellectual, ecclesiastical, and commercial force. the nature and effects of that supremacy, and its results upon the fortunes of other balkan nations, we must now proceed to consider. the turkish government classifies its subjects not on the basis of nationality but on the basis of religion. a homogeneous religious group is designated a millet or nation. thus the moslems form the millet of islam. and at the present time there are among others a greek millet, a catholic millet, and a jewish millet. but from the first days of the ottoman conquest until very recent times all the christian population, irrespective of denominational differences, was assigned by the sultans to the greek millet, of which the patriarch of constantinople was the head. the members of this millet were all called greeks; the bishops and higher clergy were exclusively greek; and the language of their churches and schools was greek, which was also the language of literature, commerce, and polite society. but the jurisdiction of the patriarch was not restricted even to ecclesiastical and educational matters. it extended to a considerable part of civil law--notably to questions of marriage, divorce, and inheritance when they concerned christians only. it is obvious that the possession by the greek patriarch of constantinople of this enormous power over the christian subjects of the turks enabled him to carry on a propaganda of hellenization. the disappearance for three centuries of the national consciousness in servia and bulgaria was not the sole work of the moslem invader; a more fatal blight to the national languages and culture were the greek bishops and clergy who conducted their churches and schools. and if kinglake knew nothing of bulgaria as late as 1834 it was because every educated person in that country called himself a greek. for it cannot be too strongly emphasized that until comparatively recent times all christians of whatever nation or sect were officially recognized by the turks as members of the greek millet and were therefore designated greeks. the hostility of the slavonic peoples in the balkans, and especially of the bulgarians, to the greeks, grows out of the ecclesiastical and educational domination which the greek clergy and bishops so long and so relentlessly exercised over them. of course the turkish sultans are responsible for the arrangement. but there is no evidence that they had any other intention than to rid themselves of a disagreeable task. for the rest they regarded greeks and slavs with equal contempt. but the greeks quickly recognized the racial advantage of their ecclesiastical hegemony. and it was not in human nature to give it up without a struggle. the patriarchate retained its exclusive jurisdiction over all orthodox populations till 1870, when the sultan issued a firman establishing the bulgarian exarchate. there were two other spheres in which greek influence was paramount in the turkish empire. the turk is a soldier and farmer; the greek is pre-eminent as a trader, and his ability secured him a disproportionate share of the trade of the empire. again, the greeks of constantinople and other large cities gradually won the confidence of the turks and attained political importance. during the eighteenth century the highest officials in the empire were invariably phanariots, as the constantinople greeks were termed from the quarter of the city in which they resided. in speaking of the greeks i have not had in mind the inhabitants of the present kingdom of greece. their subjection by the turks was as complete as that of the serbs and bulgaria though of course they were exempt from ecclesiastical domination at the hands of an alien clergy speaking a foreign language. the enmity of the bulgarians may to-day be visited upon the subjects of king constantine, but it was not their ancestors who imposed upon bulgaria foreign schools and churches but the greeks of constantinople and thrace, over whom the government of athens has never had jurisdiction. servian independence so much of the balkan countries under turkish rule. their emancipation did not come till the nineteenth century. the first to throw off the yoke was servia. taking advantage of the disorganization and anarchy prevailing in the ottoman empire the servian people rose in a body against their oppressors in january, 1804. under the able leadership first of kara-george and afterward of milosh obrenovich, servian autonomy was definitely established in 1817. the complete independence of the country was recognized by the treaty of berlin in 1878. the boundaries of the new state, however, fell far short of servian aspirations, excluding as they did large numbers of the servian population. the first ruling prince of modern servia was milosh obrenovich; and the subsequent rulers have belonged either to the obrenovich dynasty or to its rival the dynasty of kara-george. king peter, who came to the throne in 1903, is a member of the latter family. greek independence scarcely had servia won her freedom when the greek war of independence broke out. archbishop germanos called the christian population of the morea under the standard of the cross in 1821. for three years the greeks, with the assistance of european money and volunteers (of whom lord byron was the most illustrious), conducted a successful campaign against the turkish forces; but after the sultan had in 1824 summoned to his aid mehemet ali, pasha of egypt, with his powerful fleet and disciplined army, the laurels which the greek patriots had won were recovered by the oppressor; and, with the recapture of athens in may, 1827, the whole country once more lay under the dominion of the turks. the powers now recognized that nothing but intervention could save greece for european civilization. the egyptian fleet was annihilated at navarino in october, 1828, by the fleets of england, france, and russia. greece was constituted an independent monarchy, though the powers who recognized its independence traced the frontier of the emancipated country in a jealous and niggardly spirit. prince otto of bavaria was designated the first king and reigned for thirty years. he was succeeded in 1863 by king george who lived to see the northern boundary of his kingdom advanced to saloniki, where, like a faithful sentinel at his post, he fell, on march 18, 1913, by the hand of an assassin just as he had attained the glorious fruition of a reign of fifty years. bulgarian independence there had been a literary revival preceding the dawn of independence in greece. in bulgaria, which was the last of the balkan states to become independent, the national regeneration was also fostered by a literary and educational movement, of which the founding of the first bulgarian school--that of gabrovo--in 1835 was undoubtedly the most important event. in the next five years more than fifty bulgarian schools were established and five bulgarian printing-presses set up. the bulgarians were beginning to re-discover their own nationality. bulgarian schools and books produced a reaction against greek culture and the greek clergy who maintained it. not much longer would greek remain the language of the upper classes in bulgarian cities; not much longer would ignorant peasants, who spoke only bulgarian, call themselves greek. the days of the spiritual domination of the greek patriarchate were numbered. the ecclesiastical ascendency of the greeks had crushed bulgarian nationality more completely than even the civil power of the turks. the abolition of the spiritual rule of foreigners and the restoration of the independent bulgarian church became the leading object of the literary reformers, educators, and patriots. it was a long and arduous campaign--a campaign of education and awakening at home and of appeal and discussion in constantinople. finally the sultan intervened and in 1870 issued a firman establishing the bulgarian exarchate, conferring on it immediate jurisdiction over fifteen dioceses, and providing for the addition of other dioceses on a vote of two-thirds of their christian population. the new bulgarian exarch was immediately excommunicated by the greek patriarch. but the first and most important official step had been taken in the development of bulgarian nationality. the revolt against the turks followed in 1876. it was suppressed by acts of cruelty and horror unparalleled even in the balkans. many thousands of men, women, and children were massacred and scores of villages destroyed. i remember vividly--for i was then in england--how gladstone's denunciation of those atrocities aroused a wave of moral indignation and wrath which swept furiously from one end of great britain to the other, and even aroused the governments and peoples of the continent of europe. the porte refusing to adopt satisfactory measures of reform, russia declared war and her victorious army advanced to the very gates of constantinople. the treaty of san stefano, which russia then enforced upon turkey, created a "big bulgaria" that extended from the black sea to the albanian mountains and from the danube to the aegean, leaving to turkey, however, adrianople, saloniki, and the chalcidician peninsula. but this treaty was torn to pieces by the powers, who feared that "big bulgaria" would become a mere russian dependency, and they substituted for it the treaty of berlin. under this memorable instrument, which dashed to the ground the racial and national aspirations of the bulgarians which the treaty of san stefano had so completely satisfied, their country was restricted to a "tributary principality" lying between the danube and the balkans, eastern roumelia to the south being excluded from it and made an autonomous province of turkey. this breach in the political life of the race was healed in 1885 by the union of eastern roumelia with bulgaria; and the ottoman sovereignty, which had become little more than a form, was completely ended in 1908 when the ruler of the enlarged principality of bulgaria publicly proclaimed it an independent kingdom. in spite of a protest from the porte the independence of bulgaria was at once recognized by the powers. if bulgaria owed the freedom with which the treaty of berlin dowered her to the swords, and also to the pens, of foreigners, her complete independence was her own achievement. but it was not brought about till a generation after the treaty of berlin had recognized the independence of servia, montenegro, and roumania and delegated to austria-hungary the administration of bosnia and herzegovina. yet the progress made by bulgaria first under prince alexander and especially since 1887 under prince ferdinand (who subsequently assumed the title of king and later of czar) is one of the most astonishing phenomena in the history of modern europe. the balkan countries thus in consequence of the events we have here so hastily sketched turkey had lost since the nineteenth century opened a large portion of the balkan peninsula. along the danube and the save at the north bulgaria and servia had become independent kingdoms and bosnia and herzegovina had at first practically and later formally been annexed to austria-hungary. at the extreme southern end of the balkan peninsula the greeks had carved out an independent kingdom extending from cape matapan to the vale of tempe and the gulf of arta. all that remained of european turkey was the territory lying between greece and the slav countries of montenegro, bosnia, servia, and bulgaria. the porte has divided this domain into six provinces or vilayets, besides constantinople and its environs. these vilayets are scutari and janina on the adriatic; kossovo and monastir, adjoining them on the east; next saloniki, embracing the centre of the area; and finally adrianople, extending from the mesta river to the black sea. in ordinary language the ancient classical names are generally used to designate these divisions. the vilayet of adrianople roughly corresponds to thrace, the adriatic vilayets to epirus, and the intervening territory to macedonia. parts of the domain in question are, however, also known under other names. the district immediately south of servia is often called old servia; and the adriatic coast lands between montenegro and greece are generally designated albania on the north and epirus on the south. the area of turkey in europe in 1912 was 169,300 square kilometers; of bulgaria 96,300; of greece 64,600; of servia 48,300; and of montenegro 9,000. the population of european turkey at the same date was 6,130,000; of bulgaria 4,329,000; of greece 2,632,000; of servia 2,912,000; and of montenegro 250,000. to the north of the balkan states, with the danube on the south and the black sea on the east, lay roumania having an area of 131,350 square kilometers and a population of 7,070,000. causes of the first balkan war what was the occasion of the war between turkey and the balkan states in 1912? the most general answer that can be given to that question is contained in the one word macedonia. geographically macedonia lies between greece, servia, and bulgaria. ethnographically it is an extension of their races. and if, as matthew arnold declared, the primary impulse both of individuals and of nations is the tendency to expansion, macedonia both in virtue of its location and of its population was foreordained to be a magnet to the emancipated christian nations of the balkans. of course the expansion of greeks and slavs meant the expulsion of turks. hence the macedonian question was the quintessence of the near eastern question. but apart altogether from the expansionist ambitions and the racial sympathies of their kindred in bulgaria, servia, and greece, the population of macedonia had the same right to emancipation from turkish domination and oppression as their brethren in these neighboring states. the moslems had forfeited their sovereign rights in europe by their unutterable incapacity to govern their christian subjects. had the treaty of berlin sanctioned, instead of undoing, the treaty of san stefano, the whole of macedonia would have come under bulgarian sovereignty; and although servia and especially greece would have protested against the bulgarian absorption of their macedonian brethren (whom they had always hoped to bring under their own jurisdiction when the turk was expelled) the result would certainly have been better for all the christian inhabitants of macedonia as well as for the mohammedans (who number 800,000 persons or nearly one third of the entire population of macedonia). as it was these, people were all doomed to a continuation of turkish misgovernment, oppression, and slaughter. the treaty of berlin indeed provided for reforms, but the porte through diplomacy and delay frustrated all the efforts of europe to have them put into effect. for fifteen years the people waited for the fulfilment of the european promise of an amelioration of their condition, enduring meanwhile the scandalous misgovernment of abdul hamid ii. but after 1893 revolutionary societies became active. the internal organization was a local body whose programme was "macedonia for the macedonians." but both in bulgaria and in greece there were organized societies which sent insurgent bands into macedonia to maintain and assert their respective national interests. this was one of the causes of the war between turkey and greece in 1897, and the reverses of the greeks in that war inured to the advantage of the bulgarian propaganda in macedonia. servian bands soon after began to appear on the scene. these hostile activities in macedonia naturally produced reprisals at the hands of the turkish authorities. in one district alone 100 villages were burned, over 8,000 houses destroyed, and 60,000 peasants left without homes at the beginning of winter. meanwhile the austrian and russian governments intervened and drew up elaborate schemes of reform, but their plans could not be adequately enforced and the result was failure. the austro-russian entente came to an end in 1908, and in the same year england joined russia in a project aiming at a better administration of justice and involving more effective european supervision. scarcely had this programme been announced when the revolution under the young turk party broke out which promised to the world a regeneration of the ottoman empire. hopeful of these constitutional reformers of turkey, europe withdrew from macedonia and entrusted its destinies to its new master. never was there a more bitter disappointment. if autocratic sultans had punished the poor macedonians with whips, the young turks flayed them with scorpions. sympathy, indignation, and horror conspired with nationalistic aspirations and territorial interests to arouse the kindred populations of the surrounding states. and in october, 1912, war was declared against turkey by bulgaria, servia, montenegro, and greece. the balkan league this brings us to the so-called balkan alliance about which much has been written and many errors ignorantly propagated. for months after the outbreak of the war against turkey the development of this alliance into a confederation of the balkan states, on the model of the american or the german constitution, was a theme of constant discussion in europe and america. as a matter of fact there existed no juridical ground for this expectation, and the sentiments of the peoples of the four christian nations, even while they fought together against the moslem, were saturated with such an infusion of suspicion and hostility as to render nugatory any programme of balkan confederation. an alliance had indeed been concluded between greece and bulgaria in may, 1912, but it was a defensive, not an offensive alliance. it provided that in case turkey attacked either of these states, the other should come to its assistance with all its forces, and that whether the object of the attack were the territorial integrity of the nation or the rights guaranteed it by international law or special conventions. without the knowledge of the greek government, an offensive alliance against turkey had in march, 1912, been concluded between servia and bulgaria which determined their respective military obligations in case of war and the partition between them, in the event of victory, of the conquered turkish provinces in europe. a similar offensive and defensive alliance between greece and turkey was under consideration, but before the plan was matured bulgaria and servia had decided to declare war against turkey. this decision had been hastened by the turkish massacres at kochana and berane, which aroused the deepest indignation, especially in bulgaria. servia and bulgaria informed greece that in three days they would mobilize their forces for the purpose of imposing reforms on turkey, and, if within a specified time they did not receive a satisfactory reply, they would invade the ottoman territory and declare war. they invited greece on this short notice to co-operate with them by a simultaneous mobilization. it was a critical moment not only for the little kingdom of king george, but for that great cause of hellenism which for thousands of years had animated, and which still animated, the souls of the greek population in all aegean lands. greece and the league king george himself was a ruler of large experience, of great practical wisdom, and of fine diplomatic skill. he had shortly before selected as prime minister the former cretan insurgent, mr. eleutherios venizelos. it is significant that the new premier had also taken the war portfolio. he foresaw the impending conflict--as every wise statesman in europe had foreseen it--and began to make preparations for it. for the reorganization of the army and navy he secured french and english experts, the former headed by general eydoux, the latter by admiral tufnel. by 1914 it was estimated that the military and naval forces of the country would be thoroughly trained and equipped, and war was not expected before that date. but now in 1912 the hand of the greek government was forced. and a decision one way or the other was inevitable. mr. venizelos had already proved himself an agitator, an orator, and a politician. he was now to reveal himself not only to greece but to europe as a wise statesman and an effective leader of his people. the first test came in his answer to the invitation to join bulgaria and servia within three days in a war against turkey. of all possibilities open to him mr. venizelos rejected the programme of continued isolation for greece. there were those who glorified it as splendid and majestic: to him under the existing circumstances it seemed stupid in itself and certain to prove disastrous in its results. greece alone would never have been able to wage a war against turkey. and if greece declined to participate in the inevitable conflict, which the action of the two slav states had only hastened, then whether they won or turkey won, greece was bound to lose. it was improbable that the ottoman power should come out of the contest victorious; but, if the unexpected happened, what would be the position, not only of the millions of greeks in the turkish empire, but of the little kingdom of greece itself on whose northern boundary the insolent moslem oppressor, flushed with his triumph over bulgaria, servia, and montenegro, would be immovably entrenched? on the other hand if these christian states themselves should succeed, as seemed likely, in destroying the ottoman empire in europe, the kingdom of greece, if she now remained a passive spectator of their struggles, would find in the end that macedonia had come into the possession of the victorious slavs, and the great idea of the greeks--the idea of expansion into hellenic lands eastward toward constantinople--exploded as an empty bubble. it was mr. venizelos's conclusion that greece could not avoid participating in the struggle. neutrality would have entailed the complete bankruptcy of hellenism in the orient. there remained only the alternative of co-operation--co-operation with turkey or co-operation with the christian states of the balkans. greek and bulgarian antipathies how near greece was to an alliance with turkey the world may never know. at the nothing of the sort was even suspected. it was not until turkey had been overpowered by the forces of the four christian states and the attitude of bulgaria toward the other three on the question of the division of the conquered territories had become irreconcilable and menacing that mr. venizelos felt it proper to communicate to the greek people the history of the negotiations by which the greek government had bound their country to a partner now felt to be so unreasonable and greedy. feeling in greece was running high against bulgaria. the attacks on mr. venizelos's government were numerous and bitter. he was getting little or no credit for the victory that had been won against turkey, while his opponents denounced him for sacrificing the fruits of that victory to bulgaria. the greek nation especially resented the occupation by bulgarian troops of the aegean coast lands with their large hellenic population which lay between the struma and the mesta including the cities of seres and drama and especially kavala with its fine harbor and its hinterland famed for crops of choice tobacco. it was on the fourth of july, 1913, a few days after the outbreak of the war between bulgaria and her late allies, that mr. venizelos made his defence in an eloquent and powerful speech at a special session of the greek parliament. the accusation against him was not only that during the late war he had sacrificed greek interests to bulgaria but that he had committed a fatal blunder in joining her in the campaign against turkey. his reply was that since greece could not stand alone he had to seek allies in the balkans, and that it was not his fault if the choice had fallen on bulgaria. he had endeavored to maintain peace with turkey. listen to his own words: "i did not seek war against the ottoman empire. i would not have sought war at a later date if i could have obtained any adjustment of the cretan question--that thorn in the side of greece which can no longer be left as it is without rendering a normal political life absolutely impossible for us. i endeavored to adjust this question, to continue the policy of a close understanding with the neighboring empire, in the hope of obtaining in this way the introduction of reforms which would render existence tolerable to the millions of greeks within the ottoman empire." the cretan problem it was this cretan question, even more than the macedonian question, which in 1897 had driven greece, single-handed and unprepared, into a war with turkey in which she was destined to meet speedy and overwhelming defeat. it was this same "accursed cretan question," as mr. venizelos called it, which now drew the country into a military alliance against her ottoman neighbor who, until too late, refused to make any concession either to the just claims of the cretans or to the conciliatory proposals of the greek government. lying midway between three continents, the island of crete has played a large part both in ancient and modern history. the explorations and excavations of sir arthur evans at cnossus seem to prove that the homeric civilization of tiryns and mycenae was derived from crete, whose earliest remains carry us back three thousand years before the christian era. and if crete gave to ancient greece her earliest civilization she has insisted on giving herself to modern greece. it is a natural union; for the cretans are greeks, undiluted with turk, albanian, or slav blood, though with some admixture of italian. the one obstacle to this marriage of kindred souls has been turkey. for crete was taken from the venetians by the turks in 1669, after a twenty years' siege of candia, the capital. a portion of the inhabitants embraced the creed of their conquerors, so that at the present time perhaps two-thirds of the population are christian and one-third moslem. the result has been to make crete the worst governed province of the ottoman empire. in turkey in europe diversity of race has kept the christians quarreling with one another; in crete diversity of religion plunges the same race into internecine war as often as once in ten years. the island had been the scene of chronic insurrections all through the nineteenth century. each ended as a rule with a promise of the sultan to confer upon the cretans some form of local self-government, with additional privileges, financial or other. but these promises were never fulfilled. things went from bad to worse. the military intervention of greece in 1897 led to war with turkey in which she was disastrously defeated. the european powers had meantime intervened and they decided that crete should be endowed with autonomy under the sovereignty of the sultan, and in 1898 they appointed prince george of greece as high commissioner. between the political parties of the island and the representatives of the powers the prince, who worked steadily for the welfare of crete, had a difficult task, and in 1906 he withdrew, his successor being mr. zaimis, a former prime minister of greece. the new commissioner was able to report to the protecting powers in 1908 that a gendarmerie had been established, that tranquility was being maintained, and that the moslem population enjoyed safety and security. thereupon the powers began to withdraw their forces from the island. and the project for annexation with greece, which had been proclaimed by the cretan insurgents under mr. venizelos in 1905 and which the insular assembly had hastened to endorse, was once more voted by the assembly, who went on to provide for the government of the island in the name of the king of greece. i have not time to follow in detail the history of this programme of annexation. suffice it to say that the cretans ultimately went so far as to elect members to sit in the greek parliament at athens, and that turkey had given notice that their admission to the chamber would be regarded as a casus belli. i saw them on their arrival in athens in october 1912, where they received a most enthusiastic welcome from the greeks, while everybody stopped to admire their picturesque dress, their superb physique, and their dignified demeanor. if mr. venizelos excluded these delegates from the chamber he would defy the sentiments of the greek people. if he admitted them, turkey would proclaim war. mr. venizelos's solution the course actually pursued by mr. venizelos in this predicament he himself explained to the parliament in the speech delivered at the close of the war against turkey from which i have already quoted. he declared to his astonished countrymen that in his desire to reach a close understanding with turkey he had arrived at the point where he no longer demanded a union of crete with greece, "knowing it was too much for the ottoman empire." what he did ask for was the recognition of the right of the cretan deputies to sit in the greek chamber, while crete itself should remain an autonomous state under the sovereignty of the sultan. nay, mr. venizelos was so anxious to prevent war with turkey that he made another concession, for which, he frankly confessed, his political opponents if things had turned out differently would have impeached him for high treason. he actually proposed, in return for the recognition of the right of the cretan deputies to sit in the greek chamber, that greece should pay on behalf of crete an annual tribute to the porte. happily for mr. venizelos's government the young turk party who then governed the ottoman empire rejected all these proposals. meanwhile their misgovernment and massacre of christians in macedonia were inflaming the red slav nations and driving them into war against turkey. when matters had reached a crisis, the reactionary and incompetent young turk party were forced out of power and a wise and prudent statesman, the venerable kiamil pasha, succeeded to the office of grand vizier. he was all for conciliation and compromise with the greek government, whom he had often warned against an alliance with bulgaria, and he had in readiness a solution of the cretan question which he was certain would be satisfactory to both greece and turkey. but these concessions were now too late. greece had decided to throw in her lot with servia and bulgaria. and a decree was issued for the mobilization of the greek troops. the war there is not time, nor have i the qualifications, to describe the military operations which followed. in greece the crown prince was appointed commanding general, and the eve proved him one of the great captains of our day. the prime minister, who was also minister of war, furnished him with troops and munitions and supplies. the plains and hills about athens were turned into mock battlefields for the training of raw recruits; and young greeks from all parts of the world--tens of thousands of them from america--poured in to protect the fatherland and to fight the secular enemy of europe. the greek government had undertaken to raise an army of 125,000 men to co-operate with the allies; it was twice as large a number as even the friends of greece dreamed possible; yet before the war closed king constantine had under his banner an army of 250,000 men admirably armed, clothed, and equipped;--each soldier indeed having munitions fifty per cent in excess of the figure fixed by the general staff. greek military and naval operations the greek army, which had been concentrated at larissa, entered macedonia by the pass and the valley of the xerias river. the turks met the advancing force at elassona but retired after a few hours' fighting. they took their stand at the pass of sarandaporon, from which they were driven by a day's hard fighting on the part of the greek army and the masterly tactics of the crown prince. on october 23 the greeks were in possession of serndje. thence they pushed forward on both sides of the aliakmon river toward veria, which the crown prince entered with his staff on the morning of october 30. they had covered 150 miles from larissa, with no facilities but wagons for feeding the army and supplying ammunition. but at veria they struck the line of railway from monastir to saloniki. not far away was jenitsa, where the turkish army numbering from 35,000 to 40,000 had concentrated to make a stand for the protection of saloniki. the battle of jenitsa was fiercely contested but the greeks were victorious though they lost about 2000 men. this victory opened the way to saloniki. the turkish armies which defended it having been scattered by the greek forces, that city surrendered to crown prince constantine on the eighth of november. it was only three weeks since the greek army had left larissa and it had disposed of about 60,000 turks on the way. on the outbreak of war greece had declared a blockade of all turkish ports. to the usual list of contraband articles there were added not only coal, concerning which the practice of belligerent nations had varied, but also machine oil, which so far as i know was then for the first time declared contraband of war. as turkey imported both coal and lubricants, the purpose of this policy was of course to paralyze transportation in the ottoman empire. incidentally i may say the prohibition of lubricating oil caused much inconvenience to american commerce; not, however, primarily on its own account, but because of its confusion, in the minds of greek officials, with such harmless substances as cotton seed oil and oleo. the greek navy not only maintained a very effective blockade but also took possession of all the aegean islands under turkish rule, excepting rhodes and the dodecanese, which italy held as a temporary pledge for the fulfilment by turkey of some of the conditions of the treaty by which they had closed their recent war. it will be seen, therefore, that the navy was a most important agent in the campaign, and greece was the only one of the allies that had a navy. the greek navy was sufficient not only to terrorize the turkish navy, which it reduced to complete impotence, but also to paralyze turkish trade and commerce with the outside world, to embarrass railway transportation within the empire, to prevent the sending of reinforcements to macedonia or the aegean coast of thrace, and to detach from turkey those aegean islands over which she still exercised effective jurisdiction. serb military operations on land the other allies had been not less active than greece. montenegro had fired the first shot of the war. and the brave soldiers of king nicholas, the illustrious ruler of the one balkan state which the turks had never conquered, were dealing deadly blows to their secular enemy both in novi bazar and albania. as the greeks had pressed into southern macedonia, so the servian armies advanced through old servia into northern and central macedonia. in their great victory over the turkish forces at kumanovo they avenged the defeat of their ancestors at kossovo five hundred years before. still marching southward they again defeated the enemy in two great engagements, the one at prilip and the other at monastir. the latter city had been the object of the greek advance to florina, but when the prize fell to servia, though the greeks were appointed, it made no breach in the friendship of the two allies. already no doubt they were both gratified that the spheres of their military occupation were conterminous and that no turkish territory remained for bulgaria to occupy west of the vardar river. bulgarian military operations while greece and servia were scattering, capturing, or destroying the turkish troops stationed in macedonia, and closing in on that province from north and south like an irresistible vise, it fell to bulgaria to meet the enemy's main army in the plains of eastern thrace. the distribution of the forces of the allies was the natural result of their respective geographical location. macedonia to the west of the vardar and bregalnitza rivers was the only part of turkey which adjoined greece and servia. thrace, on the other hand, marched with the southern boundary of bulgaria from the sources of the mesta river to the black sea, and its eastern half was intersected diagonally by the main road from sofia to adrianople and constantinople. along this line the bulgarians sent their forces against the common enemy as soon as war was declared. the swift story of their military exploits, the record of their brilliant victories, struck europe with amazement. here was a country which only thirty-five years earlier had been an unknown and despised province of turkey in europe now overwhelming the armies of the ottoman empire in the great victories of kirk kilisse, lule burgas, and chorlu. in a few weeks the irresistible troops of king ferdinand had reached the chataldja line of fortifications. only twenty-five miles beyond lay constantinople where they hoped to celebrate their final triumph. the collapse of turkey the great powers of europe had other views. even if the bulgarian delay at chataldja--a delay probably due to exhaustion--had not given the turks time to strengthen their defences and reorganize their forces, it is practically certain that the bulgarian army would not have been permitted to enter constantinople. but with the exception of the capital and its fortified fringe, all turkey in europe now lay at the mercy of the allies. the entire territory was either already occupied by their troops or could be occupied at leisure. only at three isolated points was the ottoman power unsubdued. the city of adrianople, though closely besieged by the bulgarians, still held out, and the great fortresses of scutari in northern albania and janina in epirus remained in the hands of their turkish garrisons. the power of turkey had collapsed in a few weeks. whether the ruin was due to inefficiency and corruption in government or the injection by the young turk party of politics into the army or exhaustion resulting from the recent war with italy or to other causes more obscure, we need not pause to inquire. the disaster itself, however, had spread far enough in the opinion of europe, and a peace conference was summoned in december. delegates from the belligerent states and ambassadors from the great powers came together in london. but their labors in the cause of peace proved unavailing. turkey was unwilling to surrender adrianople and bulgaria insisted on it as a sine qua non. the peace conference broke up and hostilities were resumed. the siege of adrianople was pressed by the bulgarians with the aid of 60,000 servian troops. it was taken by storm on march 26. already, on march 6, janina had yielded to the well directed attacks of king constantine. and the fighting ended with the spectacular surrender on april 23 of scutari to king nicholas, who for a day at least defied the united will of europe. turkey was finally compelled to accept terms of peace. in january, while the london peace conference was still in session, kiamil pasha, who had endeavored to prepare the nation for the territorial sacrifice he had all along recognized as inevitable, was driven from power and his war minister, nazim pasha, murdered through an uprising of the young turk party executed by enver bey, who himself demanded the resignation of kiamil and carried it to the sultan and secured its acceptance. the insurgents set up mahmud shevket pasha as grand vizier and made the retention of adrianople their cardinal policy. but the same inexorable fate overtook the new government in april as faced kiamil in january. the powers were insistent on peace, and the successes of the allies left no alternative and no excuse for delay. the young turk party who had come to power on the adrianople issue were accordingly compelled to ratify the cession to the allies of the city with all its mosques and tombs and historic souvenirs. the treaty of london, which proved to be short-lived, was signed on may 30. the terms of peace the treaty of peace provided that beyond a line drawn from enos near the mouth of the maritza river on the aegean sea to midia on the coast of the black sea all turkey should be ceded to the allies except albania, whose boundaries were to be fixed by the great powers. it was also stipulated that the great powers should determine the destiny of the aegean islands belonging to turkey which greece now claimed by right of military occupation and the vote of their inhabitants (nearly all of whom were greek). a more direct concession to greece was the withdrawal of turkish sovereignty over crete. the treaty also contained financial and other provisions, but they do not concern us here. the essential point is that, with the exception of constantinople and a narrow hinterland for its protection, the moslems after more than five centuries of possession had been driven out of europe. this great and memorable consummation was the achievement of the united nations of the balkans. it was not a happy augury for the immediate future to recall the historic fact that the past successes of the moslems had been due to dissensions and divisions among their christian neighbors. [map: map2.png caption: map showing the turkish territories occupied by the armies of bulgaria, greece, montenegro, and servia at the close of the war against turkey] ii the war between the allies the treaty of london officially eliminated turkey from the further settlement of the balkan question. thanks to the good will of the great powers toward herself or to their rising jealousy of bulgaria she was not stripped of her entire european possessions west of the chataldja lines where the victorious bulgarians had planted their standards. the enos-midia frontier not only guaranteed to her a considerable portion of territory which the bulgarians had occupied but extended her coast line, from the point where the chataldja lines strike the sea of marmora, out through the dardanelles and along the aegean littoral to the mouth of the maritza river. to that extent the great powers may be said to have re-established the turks once more in europe from which they had been practically driven by the balkan allies and especially the bulgarians. all the rest of her european possessions, however, turkey was forced to surrender either in trust to the great powers or absolutely to the balkan allies. the great question now was how the allies should divide among themselves the spoils of war. rival ambitions of the allies this was a difficult matter to adjust. before the war began, as we have already seen, a treaty of partition had been negotiated between bulgaria and servia, but conditions had changed materially in the interval and servia now demanded a revision of the treaty and refused to withdraw her troops from central macedonia, which the treaty had marked for reversion to bulgaria. in consequence the relations between the governments and peoples of servia and bulgaria were dangerously strained. the bulgarians denounced the servians as perfidious and faithless and the servians responded by excoriating the colossal greed and intolerance of the bulgarians. the immemorial mutual hatred of the two slav nations was stirred to its lowest depths, and it boiled and sputtered like a witches' cauldron. in eastern macedonia bulgarians and greeks were each eagerly pushing their respective spheres of occupation without much regard to the rights or feeling of the other ally. though the bulgarians had not forgiven the greeks for anticipating them in the capture of saloniki in the month of november, the rivalry between them in the following winter and spring had for its stage the territory between the struma and the mesta rivers--and especially the quadrilateral marked by kavala and orphani on the coast and seres and drama on the line of railway from saloniki to adrianople. they had one advantage over the bulgarians: their troops could be employed to secure extensions of territory for the hellenic kingdom at a time when bulgaria still needed the bulk of her forces to fight the turks at chataldja and adrianople. hence the greeks occupied towns in the district from which bulgarian troops had been recalled. nor did they hesitate to dislodge scattered bulgarian troops which their ally had left behind to establish a claim of occupation. naturally disputes arose between the military commanders and these led to repeated armed encounters. on march 5 greeks and bulgarians fought at nigrita as they subsequently fought at pravishta, leftera, panghaion, and anghista. this conduct of the allies toward one another while the common enemy was still in the field boded ill for their future relations. "our next war will be with bulgaria," said the man on the street in athens, and this bellicose sentiment was reciprocated alike by the bulgarian people and the bulgarian army. the secular mutual enmities and animosities of the greeks and bulgarians, which self-interest had suppressed long enough to enable the balkan allies to make european turkey their own, burst forth with redoubled violence under the stimulus of the imperious demand which the occasion now made upon them all for an equitable distribution of the conquered territory. for ages the fatal vice of the balkan nations has been the immoderate and intolerant assertion by each of its own claims coupled with contemptuous disregard of the rights of others. albania a cause of friction there were also external causes which contributed to the deepening tragedy in the balkans. undoubtedly the most potent was the dislocation of the plans of the allies by the creation of an independent albania. this new kingdom was called into being by the voice of the european concert at the demand of austria-hungary supported by italy. the controlling force in politics, though not the only force, is self-interest. austria-hungary had long sought an outlet through macedonia to the aegean by way of saloniki. it was also the aim of servia to reach the adriatic. but the foreign policy of austria-hungary, which has millions of serbs under its dominion, has steadily opposed the aggrandizement of servia. and now that servia and her allies had taken possession of macedonia and blocked the path of austria-hungary to saloniki, it was not merely revenge, it was self-interest pursuing a consistent foreign policy, which moved the dual monarchy to make the cardinal feature of its balkan programme the exclusion of servia from access to the adriatic sea. before the first balkan war began the adriatic littoral was under the dominion of austria-hungary and italy, for though montenegro and european turkey were their maritime neighbors neither of them had any naval strength. naturally these two dominant powers desired that after the close of the balkan war they should not be in a worse position in the adriatic than heretofore. but if servia were allowed to expand westward to the adriatic, their supremacy might in the future be challenged. for servia might enter into special relations with her great sister slav state, russia, or a confederation might be formed embracing all the balkan states between the black sea and the adriatic: and, in either event, austria-hungary and italy would no longer enjoy the unchallenged supremacy on the adriatic coasts which was theirs so long as turkey held dominion over the maritime country lying between greece and montenegro. as a necessity of practical politics, therefore, there emerged the austro-italian policy of an independent albania. but natural and essential as this policy was for italy and austria-hungary, it was fatal to servia's dream of expansion to the adriatic; it set narrow limits to the northward extension of greece into epirus, and the southward extension of montenegro below scutari; it impelled these allies to seek compensation in territory that bulgaria had regarded as her peculiar preserve; and as a consequence it seriously menaced the existence of the balkan alliance torn as it already was by mutual jealousies, enmities, aggressions, and recriminations. recoil of servia toward the aegean the first effect of the european fiat regarding an independent albania was the recoil of servia against bulgaria. confronted by the force majeure of the great powers which estopped her advance to the adriatic, servia turned her anxious regard toward the gulf of saloniki and the aegean sea. already her victorious armies had occupied macedonia from the albanian frontier eastward beyond the vardar river to strumnitza, istib, and kochana, and southward below monastir and ghevgheli, where they touched the boundary of the greek occupation of southern macedonia. an agreement with the greeks, who held the city of saloniki and its hinterland as well as the whole chalcidician peninsula, would ensure servia an outlet to the sea. and the merchants of saloniki--mostly the descendants of jews expelled from spain in the fifteenth century--were shrewd enough to recognize the advantage to their city of securing the commerce of servia, especially as they were destined to lose, in consequence of hostile tariffs certain to be established by the conquerors, a considerable portion of the trade which had formerly flowed to them without let or hindrance from a large section of european turkey. the government of greece was equally favorably disposed to this programme; for, in the first place, it was to its interest to cultivate friendly relations with servia, in view of possible embroilments with bulgaria; and, in the second place, it had to countercheck the game of those who wanted either to make saloniki a free city or to incorporate it in a big bulgaria, and who were using with some effect the argument that the annexation of the city to greece meant the throttling of its trade and the annihilation of its prosperity. the interests of the city of saloniki, the interests of greece, and the interests of servia all combined to demand the free flow of servian trade by way of saloniki. and if no other power obtained jurisdiction over any macedonian territory through which that trade passed, it would be easy for the greek and servian governments to come to an understanding. treaty restrictions just here, however, was the rub. the secret treaty of march, 1912, providing for the offensive and defensive alliance of bulgaria and servia against the ottoman empire regulated, in case of victory, the division of the conquered territory between the allies. and the extreme limit, on the south and east, of turkish territory assigned to servia by this treaty was fixed by a line starting from ochrida on the borders of albania and running northeastward across the vardar river a few miles above veles and thence, following the same general direction, through ovcepolje and egri palanka to golema vreh on the frontier of bulgaria--a terminus some twenty miles southeast of the meeting point of servia, macedonia, and bulgaria. during the war with turkey the servian armies had paid no attention to the ochrida-golema vreh line. the great victory over the turks at kumanovo, by which the slav defeat at kossovo five hundred years earlier was avenged, was, it is true, won at a point north of the line in question. but the subsequent victories of prilip and monastir were gained to the south of it--far, indeed, into the heart of the macedonian territory recognized by the treaty as bulgarian. if you look at a map you will see that the boundary between servia and bulgaria, starting from the danube, runs in a slightly undulating line due south. now what the military forces of king peter did during the war of the balkan states with the ottoman empire was to occupy all european turkey south of servia between the prolongation of that boundary line and the new kingdom of albania till they met the hellenic army advancing northward under crown prince constantine, when the two governments agreed on a common boundary for new servia and new greece along a line starting from lake presba and running eastward between monastir and florina to the vardar river a little to the south of ghevgheli. the apple of discord but this arrangement between greece and servia would leave no territory for bulgaria in central and western macedonia! yet servia had solemnly bound herself by treaty not to ask for any turkish territory below the ochrida-golema vreh line. there was no similar treaty with greece, but bulgaria regarded the northern frontier of new greece as a matter for adjustment between the two governments. servia, withdrawn behind the ochrida-golema vreh line in accordance with the terms of the treaty, would at any rate have nothing to say about the matter. and, although the bulgarian government never communicated, officially or unofficially, its own views to greece or servia, i believe we should not make much mistake in asserting that a line drawn from ochrida to saloniki (which bulgaria in spite of the greek occupation continued to claim) would roughly represent the limit of its voluntary concession. now if you imagine a base line drawn from saloniki to golema vreh, you have an equilateral triangle resting on ochrida as apex. and this equilateral triangle represents approximately what bulgaria claimed in the western half of macedonia as her own. the war between the allies was fought over the possession of this triangle. the larger portion of it had in the war against turkey been occupied by the forces of servia; and the nation, inflamed by the military spirit of the army, had made up its mind that, treaty or no treaty, it should not be evacuated. on the south, especially above vodena, the greeks had occupied a section of the fatal triangle. and the two governments had decided that they would not tolerate the driving of a bulgarian wedge between new servia and new greece. bulgaria, on the other hand, was inexorable in her demands on servia for the fulfilment of the terms of the treaty of partition. at the same time she worried the greek government about the future of saloniki, and that at a time when the greek people were criticizing mr. venizelos for having allowed the bulgarians to occupy regions in macedonia and thrace inhabited by greeks, notably seres, drama, and kavala, and the adjacent country between the struma and the mesta. these were additional causes of dissension between the allies. but the primary disruptive force was the attraction, the incompatible attraction, exerted on them all by that central macedonian triangle whose apex rested on the ruins of czar samuel's palace at ochrida and whose base extended from saloniki to golema vreh. the claim of bulgaria from that base line to the black sea nearly all european turkey (with the exception of the chalcidician peninsula, including saloniki and its hinterland) had been occupied by the military forces of bulgaria. why then was bulgaria so insistent on getting beyond that base line, crossing the vardar, and possessing herself of central macedonia up to ochrida and the eastern frontier of albania? the answer, in brief, is that it has been the undeviating policy of bulgaria, ever since her own emancipation by russia in 1877, to free the bulgarians still under the ottoman yoke and unite them in a common fatherland. the great bulgaria which was created by russia in the treaty she forced on turkey--the treaty of san stefano--was constructed under the influence of the idea of a union of the bulgarian race in a single state under a common government. this treaty was afterward torn to pieces by the congress of berlin, which set up for the bulgarians a very diminutive principality. but the bulgarians, from the palace down to the meanest hut, have always been animated by that racial and national idea. the annexation of eastern roumelia in 1885 was a great step in the direction of its realization. and it was to carry that programme to completion that bulgaria made war against turkey in 1912. her primary object was the liberation of the bulgarians in macedonia and their incorporation in a great bulgaria. and the treaty of partition with servia seemed, in the event of victory over turkey, to afford a guarantee of the accomplishment of her long-cherished purpose. it was a strange irony of fate that while as a result of the geographical situation of the belligerents bulgaria, at the close of the war with turkey, found herself in actual occupation of all european turkey from the black sea up to the river struma and beyond,--that is, all thrace to chataldja as well as eastern macedonia--her allies were in possession of the bulk of macedonia, including the entire triangle she had planned to inject between the frontiers of new servia and new greece! the bulgarians claimed this triangle on ethnological grounds. its inhabitants, they asseverated, were their brethren, as genuinely bulgarian as the subjects of king ferdinand. racial propaganda in macedonia of all perplexing subjects in the world few can be more baffling than the distribution of races in macedonia. the turks classify the population, not by language or by physical characteristics, but by religion. a greek is a member of the orthodox church who recognizes the patriarch of constantinople; a bulgarian, on the other hand, is one of the same religious faith who recognizes the exarch; and since the servians in turkey have no independent church but recognize the patriarchate they are often, as opposed to bulgarians, called greeks. race, being thus merged in religion--in something that rests on the human will and not on physical characteristics fixed by nature--can in that part of the world be changed as easily as religion. a macedonian may be a greek to-day, a bulgarian to-morrow, and a servian next day. we have all heard of the captain in the comic opera who "in spite of all temptations to belong to other nations" remained an englishman. there would have been nothing comic in this assertion had the redoubtable captain lived in macedonia. in that land a race is a political party composed of members with common customs and religion who stand for a "national idea" which they strenuously endeavor to force on others. macedonia is the land of such racial propaganda. as the turkish government forbids public meetings for political purposes, the propaganda takes an ecclesiastical and linguistic form. each "race" seeks to convert the people to its faith by the agency of schools and churches, which teach and use its own language. up to the middle of the nineteenth century the greeks, owing to their privileged ecclesiastical position in the ottoman empire, had exclusive spiritual and educational jurisdiction over the members of the orthodox church in macedonia. the opposition of the bulgarians led, as we have already seen, to the establishment in 1870 of the exarchate, that is, of an independent bulgarian orthodox church with the exarch at its head. the bulgarian propaganda in macedonia demanded the appointment of bishops to conduct churches and schools under the authority of the exarchate. in 1891 the porte conceded bulgarian bishops to ochrida and uskub, in 1894 to veles and nevrokop, and in 1898 to monastir, strumnitza, and dibra. as has been well said, the church of the exarchate was really occupied in creating bulgarians: it offered to the slavonic population of macedonia services and schools conducted in a language which they understood and showed a genuine interest in their education. by 1900 macedonia had 785 bulgarian schools, 39,892 pupils, and 1,250 teachers. the servian propaganda in macedonia was at a disadvantage in comparison with the bulgarian because it had not a separate ecclesiastical organization. as we have already seen, the orthodox serbs owe allegiance to the greek patriarch in constantinople. and at first they did not push their propaganda as zealously or as successfully as the bulgarians. in fact the national aspirations of the people of servia had been in the direction of bosnia and herzegovina; but after these provinces were assigned to austria by the treaty of berlin, a marked change of attitude occurred in the servian government and nation. they now claimed as servian the slavonic population of macedonia which hitherto bulgaria had cultivated as her own. the course of politics in bulgaria, notably her embroilment with russia, inured to the advantage of the servian propaganda in macedonia, which after 1890 made great headway. the servian government made liberal contributions for macedonian schools. and before the nineteenth century closed the servian propaganda could claim 178 schools in the vilayets of saloniki and monastir and in uskub with 321 teachers and 7,200 pupils. these slav propagandists made serious encroachments upon the greek cause, which, only a generation earlier, had possessed a practical monopoly in macedonia. greek efforts too were for a time almost paralyzed in consequence of the disastrous issue of the greco-turkish war in 1897. nevertheless in 1901 the greeks claimed 927 schools in the vilayets of saloniki and monastir with 1,397 teachers and 57,607 pupils. racial facts and fallacies the more bishops, churches, and schools a nationality could show, the stronger its claim on the reversion of macedonia when the turk should be driven out of europe! there was no doubt much juggling with statistics. and though schools and churches were provided by greeks, servians, and bulgarians to satisfy the spiritual and intellectual needs of their kinsmen in macedonia, there was always the ulterior (which was generally the dominant) object of staking out claims in the domain soon to drop from the paralyzed hand of the turk. the bishops may have been good shepherds of their flocks, but the primary qualification for the office was, i imagine, the gift of aggressive political leadership. the turkish government now favored one nationality and now another as the interests of the moment seemed to suggest. with an impish delight in playing off slav against greek and servian against bulgarian, its action on applications for bishoprics was generally taken with a view to embarrassing the rival christian nationalities. and it could when necessary keep the propagandists within severe limits. the bulgarians grew bold after securing so many bishoprics in the nineties and the bishop at uskub thought to open new schools and churches. but the turkish governor--the vali--summoned him and delivered this warning: "o bulgarian, sit upon the eggs you have, and do not burst your belly by trying to lay more." how are we to determine the racial complexion of a country in which race is certified by religion, in which religion is measured by the number of bishops and churches and schools, in which bishops and churches and schools are created and maintained by a propaganda conducted by competing external powers, and in which the results of the propaganda are determined largely by money and men sent from sofia, athens, and belgrade, subject always to the caprice and manipulation of the sultan's government at constantinople? in southern macedonia from the thessalian frontier as far north as the parallel of saloniki, the population is almost exclusively greek, as is also the whole of the chalcidician peninsula, while further east the coast region between the struma and the mesta is also predominantly greek. eastern macedonia to the north of the line of seres and drama and south of the kingdom of bulgaria is generally bulgarian. on the northwest from the city of uskub up to the confines of servia and bosnia, macedonia is mixed serb, bulgarian, and albanian, with the serb element preponderating as you travel northward and the albanian westward. personal observations and experiences the difficulty comes when we attempt to give the racial character of central macedonia, which is equally remote from greece, bulgaria, and servia. i travelled through this district last summer. on june 29, when the war broke out between the allies i found myself in uskub. through the courtesy of the servian authorities i was permitted to ride on the first military train which left the city. descending at veles i drove across central macedonia by way of prilip to monastir, spending the first night, for lack of a better bed, in the carriage, which was guarded by servian sentries. from monastir i motored over execrable roads to lake presba and lake ochrida and thence beyond the city of ochrida to struga on the black drin, from which i looked out on the mountains of albania. coming from athens where for many months i had listened to patriotic stories of the thorough permeation of macedonia by greek settlements my first surprise was my inability to discover a greek majority in central macedonia. in most of the cities a fraction of the population indeed is greek and as a rule the colony is prosperous. this is especially true in monastir, which is a stronghold of greek influence. but while half the population of monastir is mohammedan the so-called bulgarians form the majority of the christian population, though both servians and roumanians have conducted energetic propaganda. in veles two-thirds of the population are christians and nearly all of these are called bulgarians. in ochrida the lower town is mohammedan and the upper christian, and the christian population is almost exclusively of the bulgarian church. it does not follow, however, that the people of central macedonia, even if bulgarian churches are in the ascendant among them, are really connected by ties of blood and language with bulgaria rather than with servia. if history is invoked we shall have to admit that under dushan this region was a part of the serb empire as under simeon and asen it was part of the bulgarian. if an appeal is made to anthropology the answer is still uncertain. for while the mongolian features--broad flat faces, narrow eyes, and straight black hair--which characterize the subjects of king ferdinand can be seen--i myself have seen them--as far west as ochrida, they may also be found all over northern servia as far as belgrade though the servian physical type is entirely different. there is no fixed connection between the anthropological unit and the linguistic or political unit. furthermore, while there are well-marked groups who call themselves serbs or bulgarians there is a larger population not so clearly differentiated by physique or language. undoubtedly they are slavs. but whether serb or bulgarian, or intermediate between the two, no one to-day can demonstrate. central macedonia has its own dialects, any one of which under happy literary auspices might have developed into a separate language. and the men who speak them to-day can more or less understand either servian or bulgarian. hence as the anonymous and highly authoritative author of "turkey in europe," who calls himself odysseus, declares: "the practical conclusion is that neither greeks, servians, nor bulgarians have a right to claim central macedonia. the fact that they all do so shows how weak each claim must be." yet it was bulgaria's intransigent assertion of her claim to central macedonia which led to the war between the allies. it will be instructive to consider the attitude of each of the governments concerned on the eve of the conflict. i hope i am in a position correctly to report it. certainly i had unusual opportunities to learn it. for besides the official position i held in athens during the entire course of both balkan wars i visited the balkan states in june and was accorded the privilege of discussing the then pending crisis with the prime ministers of roumania, servia, and bulgaria. it would of course be improper to quote them; nay more, i feel myself under special obligation sacredly to respect the confidence they reposed in me. but the frank disclosures they made in these conversations gave me a point of view for the comprehension of the situation and the estimate of facts which i have found simply invaluable. and if mr. venizelos in athens, or mr. maioresco in bukarest, or mr. pashitch in belgrade, or dr. daneff, who is no longer prime minister of bulgaria, should ever chance to read what i am saying, i hope each will feel that i have fairly and impartially presented the attitude which their respective governments had taken at this critical moment on the vital issue then confronting them. the attitude of servia i have already indicated the situation of servia. compelled by the great powers to withdraw her troops from albania, after they had triumphantly made their way to the adriatic, she was now requested by bulgaria to evacuate central macedonia up to the ochrida-golema vreh line in accordance with the terms of the treaty between the two countries which was ratified in march, 1912. the servian government believed that for the loss of albania, which the treaty assumed would be annexed to servia, they were entitled to compensation in macedonia. and if now, instead of compensation for the loss of an outlet on the adriatic, they were to withdraw their forces from central macedonia and allow bulgaria to establish herself between new servia and new greece, they would block their own way to saloniki, which was the only prospect now left of a servian outlet to the sea. nor was this the whole story by any means. the army, which comprised all able-bodied servians, was in possession of central macedonia; and the military leaders, with the usual professional bias in favor of imperialism, dictated their expansionist views to the government at belgrade. if bulgaria would not voluntarily grant compensation for the loss of albania, the servian people were ready to take it by force. they had also a direct claim against bulgaria. they had sent 60,000 soldiers to the siege of adrianople, which the bulgarians had hitherto failed to capture. and the servians were now asking, in bitter irony, whether they had gone to war solely for the benefit of bulgaria; whether besides helping her to win all thrace and eastern macedonia they were now to present her with central macedonia, and that at a time when the european concert had stripped them of the expected prize of albania with its much desired adriatic littoral! this argument was graphically presented on a map of which i secured a copy in belgrade. the legend on this map reads as follows: "territories occupied by servia 55,000 square miles. servia cedes to her allies in the east and south 3,800 square miles. servia cedes to albania 15,200 square miles. servia retains 36,000 square miles. territories occupied by bulgaria to enos-midia, 51,200 square miles. the bulgarians demand from the servians still 10,240 square miles. according to bulgarian pretensions bulgaria should get 61,520 square miles and servia only 25,760!" proposed revision of treaty and arbitration when the treaty between servia and bulgaria was negotiated, it seems to have been assumed that the theatre of a war with turkey would be macedonia and that thrace--the country from the mesta to the black sea--would remain intact to turkey. and if the rest of turkey in europe up to the adriatic were conquered by the two allies, the ochrida-golema vreh line would make a fairly equitable division between them of the spoils of war. but with albania denied to servia and thrace occupied by bulgaria, conditions had wholly changed. the servian government declared that the changed conditions had abrogated the treaty of partition and that it was for the two governments now to adjust themselves to the logic of events! on may 28 mr. pashitch, the servian prime minister, formally demanded a revision of the treaty. a personal interview with the bulgarian prime minister, mr. gueshoff, followed on june 2 at tsaribrod. and mr. gueshoff accepted mr. pashitch's suggestion (which originated with mr. venizelos, the greek prime minister) of a conference of representatives of the four allies at st. petersburg. for it should be added that, in the treaty of partition, the czar had been named as arbiter in case of any territorial dispute between the two parties. what followed in the next few days has never been clearly disclosed. but it was of transcendent importance. i have always thought that if mr. gueshoff, one of the authors of the balkan alliance, had been allowed like mr. venizelos and mr. pashitch, to finish his work, there would have been no war between the allies. i did not enjoy the personal acquaintance of mr. gueshoff, but i regarded him as a wise statesman of moderate views, who was disposed to make reasonable concessions for the sake of peace. but a whole nation in arms, flushed with the sense of victory, is always dangerous to the authority of civil government. if mr. gueshoff was ready to arrange some accommodation with mr. pashitch, the military party in bulgaria was all the more insistent in its demands on servia for the evacuation of central macedonia. even in servia mr. pashitch had great difficulty in repressing the jingo ardor of the army, whose bellicose spirit was believed to find expression in the attitude of the crown prince. but the provocation in bulgaria was greater, because, when all was said and done, servia was actually violating an agreement with bulgaria to which she had solemnly set her name. possibly the military party gained the ear of king ferdinand. certainly it was reported that he was consulting with leaders of the opposition. presumably they were all dissatisfied with the conciliatory attitude which mr. gueshoff had shown in the tsaribrod conference. whatever the explanation, mr. gueshoff resigned on june 9. delay and opposition of bulgaria on that very day the czar summoned the kings of bulgaria and servia to submit their disputes to his decision. while this demand was based on a specific provision of the servo-bulgarian treaty, his majesty also urged it on the ground of devotion to the slav cause. this pro-slav argument provoked much criticism in austro-hungarian circles which resented bitterly the assumption of slav hegemony in balkan affairs. however, on june 12 bulgaria and servia accepted russian arbitration. but the terms were not agreed upon. while mr. venizelos and mr. pashitch impatiently awaited the summons to st. petersburg they could get no definite information of the intentions of the bulgarian government. and the rivalry of austria-hungary and russia for predominance in the balkans was never more intense than at this critical moment. on june 14 dr. daneff was appointed prime minister in succession to mr. gueshoff. he had represented bulgaria in the london peace conference where his aggressive and uncompromising attitude had perturbed his fellow delegates from the other balkan states and provoked some criticism in the european press. he was known as a russophil. and he seems now to have got assurance from russia that she would maintain the bulgarian view of the treaty with servia, although she had at one time favored the servian demand for an extensive revision of it. certainly dr. daneff voiced the views and sentiments of the bulgarian army and nation. i was in sofia the week before the outbreak of the war between the allies. and the two points on which everybody insisted were, first, that servia must be compelled to observe the treaty of partition, and, secondly, that central macedonia must be annexed to bulgaria. for these things all bulgarians were ready to fight. and flushed with their great victories over the main army of turkey they believed it would be an easy task to overpower the forces of servia and greece. for the greeks they entertained a sort of contempt; and as for the servians, had they not already defeated them completely at slivnitza in 1886? men high in the military service of the nation assured me that the bulgarian army would be in belgrade in eight days after war was declared. the greeks too would quickly be driven out of saloniki. the idea of a conference to decide the territorial question in dispute between the allies found no favor in any quarter. now it is important that full justice should be done to bulgaria. as against servia, if servia had stood alone, she might have appealed to the sanctity and inviolability of treaties. circumstances had indeed changed since the treaty was negotiated. but was that a good reason, bulgaria might have asked, why she should be excluded from central macedonia which the treaty guaranteed to her? was that a good reason why she should not emancipate her macedonian brethren for whose sake she had waged a bloody and costly war with turkey? the bulgarians saw nothing in the problem but their treaty with servia and apparently cared for no territorial compensation without central macedonia. bulgaria's uncompromising policy the bulgarians were blind to all facts and considerations but the abstract terms of the treaty with servia. it was a fact, however, that the war against turkey had been fought by four allies. it was a fact that the ottoman government had ceded european turkey (except albania) to these four allies. no two of the allies could divide between themselves the common possession. a division made by the four allies might contravene the terms of a treaty which existed between any two of the allies prior to the outbreak of the war. in any event it was for the four allies together to effect a distribution of the territory ceded to them by turkey. for that purpose a conference was an essential organ. how otherwise could the four nations reach any agreement? yet the bulgarians--army, government, and nation--were obsessed by the fixed idea that bulgaria enjoyed not only a primacy in this matter but a sort of sovereign monopoly by virtue of which it was her right and privilege to determine how much of the common spoils she should assign servia (with whom she had an ante-bellum treaty), and, after servia had been eliminated, how much she could spare to greece (with whom no treaty of partition existed), and, when greece had been disposed of, whether any crumbs could be flung to montenegro, who had indeed very little to hope for from the bulgarian government. and so bulgaria opposed a conference of the four prime ministers though a conference was the natural, obvious, and necessary method of disposing of the common business pressing upon them. the attitude of bulgaria left no alternative but war. yet the bulgarian government failed to reckon the cost of war. was it not madness for bulgaria to force war upon greece, servia, and montenegro on the west at a time when roumania was making demands for territorial compensation on the north and turkey was sure to seize the occasion to win back territory which bulgaria had just wrested from her on the south? never was a government blinder to the significant facts of a critical situation. all circumstances conspired to prescribe peace as the manifest policy for bulgaria, yet nearly every step taken by the government was provocative of war. the bulgarian army had covered itself with glory in the victorious campaign against the moslem. a large part of european turkey was already in bulgarian hands. to imperil that glory and those possessions by the risk of a new war, when the country was exhausted and new enemies lay in wait, was as foolish as it was criminal. that way madness lay. yet that way the policy pursued by the bulgarian government infallibly led. must we assume that there is some ground for suspecting that austria-hungary was inciting bulgaria to war? we must leave it to history to answer. if the result was a terrible disaster, that was only the old greek nemesis of the gods for the outraged principles of reason and moderation. the conciliatory spirit of greece those principles, thanks to the conciliatory spirit of mr. venizelos, the prime minister, and the steady support of king constantine, who was also commander-in-chief, were loyally followed in greece. a few days after the declaration of war against the ottoman empire, into which greece was precipitately hastened by the unexpected action of servia and bulgaria, the greek foreign minister addressed a communication to the allies on the subject of the division of conquered territory. he traced the line of greek claims, as based on ethnological grounds, and added that, as he foresaw difficulties in the way of a direct adjustment, he thought the disputed points should be submitted to arbitration. but months followed months without bringing from bulgaria any clear reply to this just and reasonable proposal of the greek government. nevertheless, mr. venizelos persisted in his attitude of conciliation toward bulgaria. he made concessions, not only in thrace but in eastern macedonia, for which he was bitterly criticized on the ground of sacrificing vital greek interests to bulgaria. he recognized, as his critics refused to do, that the balkan question could not be settled on ethnological principles alone; one had to take account also of geographical necessities. he saw that the greeks in thrace must be handed over to bulgaria. he demanded only the macedonian territory which the greek forces had actually occupied, including saloniki with an adequate hinterland. as the attitude of bulgaria became more uncompromising, as she pushed her army of occupation further westward, mr. venizelos was even ready to make the river struma the eastern boundary of new greece, and to abandon to bulgaria the aegean httoral between the struma and the mesta rivers including greek cities like kavala, seres, and drama. but these new concessions of mr. venizelos were in danger of alienating from him the support of the greek nation without yielding anything in return from bulgaria. the outbreak of the war between the allies saved him from a difficult political position. yet against that war mr. venizelos strove resolutely to the end. and when in despite of all his efforts war came, he was justified in saying, as he did say to the national parliament, that the greeks had the right to present themselves before the civilized world with head erect because this new war which was bathing with blood the balkan peninsula had not been provoked by greece or brought about by the demand of greece to receive satisfaction for all her ethnological claims. and this position in which he had placed his country was, he proudly declared, a "moral capital" of the greatest value. bulgaria begins hostilities bulgaria's belated acceptance of russian arbitration was not destined to establish peace. yet dr. daneff, the prime minister, who received me on june 27 and talked freely of the balkan situation (perhaps the more freely because in this conversation it transpired that we had been fellow students together at the university of heidelberg), decided on june 28 not to go to war with the allies. yet that very evening at eight o'clock, unknown to dr. daneff, an order in cipher and marked "very urgent" was issued by general savoff to the commander of the fourth army directing him on the following evening to attack the servians "most vigorously along the whole front." on the following afternoon, the 29th, general savoff issued another order to the army commanders giving further instructions for attacks on the servians and greeks, including an attack on saloniki, stating that these attacks were taking place "without any official declaration of war," and that they were undertaken in order to accustom the bulgarian army to regard their former allies as enemies, to hasten the activities of the russian government, to compel the former allies to be more conciliatory, and to secure new territories for bulgaria! who was responsible for this deplorable lack of harmony between the civil government and the military authorities has not yet been officially disclosed. did general savoff act on his own responsibility? or is there any truth in the charge that king ferdinand after a long consultation with the austro-hungarian minister instructed the general to issue the order? dr. daneff knew nothing of it, and though he made every effort to stop the resulting hostilities, the dogs of war had been let loose and could not now be torn from one another's throats. there had been sporadic fighting in macedonia between the allies for some months past. greece and servia had concluded an anti-bulgarian alliance on june 1. they also entered into a convention with roumania by which that power agreed to intervene in case of war between the late allies. and war having been declared, roumania seized silistria at midnight, july 10. meanwhile the servian and greek forces were fighting the bulgarians hard at kilkis, doiran, and other points between the vardar and the struma. and, as if bulgaria had not enemies enough on her back already, the turkish army on july 12 left the chataldja fortifications, crossed the enos-midia line, and in less than two weeks, with enver bey at its head, re-occupied adrianople. bulgaria was powerless to stop the further advance of the turks, nor had she forces to send against the roumanians who marched unopposed through the neighboring country till sofia itself was within their power. no nation could stand up against such fearful odds. dr. daneff resigned on july 15. and the new ministry had to make the best terms it could. terms of peace a peace conference met at bukarest on july 28, and peace was signed on august 10. by this treaty of bukarest servia secured not only all that part of macedonia already under her occupation but gained also an eastward extension beyond the doiran-istib-kochana line into purely bulgarian territory. greece fared still better under the treaty; for it gave her not only all the macedonian lands she had already occupied but extended her domain on the aegean littoral as far east as the mouth of the mesta and away into the interior as far above seres and drama as they are from the sea,--thus establishing the northern frontier of new greece from lake presba (near the eastern boundary of albania) on a northward-ascending line past ghevgheli and doiran to kainchal in thrace on the other side of the mesta river. this assignment of territory conquered from turkey had the effect of shutting out bulgaria from the western aegean; and the littoral left to bulgaria between the mesta river and the turkish boundary has no harbor of any consequence but dedeagach, which is much inferior to kavala. the new turkish boundary was arranged by negotiations between the bulgarian and ottoman governments. the terminus on the black sea was pushed north from midia almost up to the southern boundary of bulgaria. enos remained the terminus on the aegean. but the two termini were connected by a curved line which after following the maritza river to a point between sufli and dimotika then swung in a semicircle well beyond adrianople to bulgaria and the black sea. thus bulgaria was compelled to cede back to the asiatic enemy not only adrianople but the battlefields of kirk kilisse, lule burgas, and chorlu on which her brave soldiers had won such magnificent victories over the moslems. the attitude of roumania the treaty of bukarest marked the predominance of roumania in balkan affairs. and of course roumania had her own reward. she had long coveted the northeastern corner of bulgaria, from turtukai on the danube to baltchik on the black sea. and this territory, even some miles beyond that line, bulgaria was now compelled to cede to her by the treaty. it is a fertile area with a population of some 300,000 souls, many of whom are turks. the claim of roumania to compensation for her neutrality during the first balkan war was severely criticized by the independent press of western europe. it was first put forward in the london peace conference, but rejected by dr. daneff, the bulgarian delegate. but the roumanian government persisted in pressing the claim, and the powers finally decided to mediate, with the result that the city of silistria and the immediately adjoining territory were assigned to roumania. neither state was satisfied with the award and the second balkan war broke out before the transfer had been effected. this gave roumania the opportunity to enforce her original claim, and, despite the advice of austria-hungary, she used it, as we have already seen. the roumanian government justifies its position in this matter by two considerations. in the first place, as roumania was larger and more populous than any of the balkan states, the roumanian nation could not sit still with folded arms while bulgaria wrested this preeminence from her. and if bulgaria had not precipitated a war among the allies, if she had been content with annexing the portion of european turkey which she held under military occupation, new bulgaria would have contained a greater area and a larger population than roumania. the roumanians claim, accordingly, that the course they pursued was dictated by a legitimate and vital national interest. and, in the second place, as greeks, servians, and bulgarians based their respective claims to macedonian territory on the racial character of the inhabitants, roumania asserted that the presence of a large roumanian (or vlach) population in that disputed region gave her an equally valid claim to a share in the common estate. in all macedonia there may be some 100,000 vlachs, though roumanian officials put the number much higher. many of them are highland shepherds; others engage in transportation with trains of horses or mules; those in the lowlands are good farmers. they are found especially in the mountains and valleys between thessaly and albania. they are generally favorable to the greek cause. most of them speak greek as well as roumanian; and they are all devoted members of the greek orthodox church. yet there has been a roumanian propaganda in macedonia since 1886, and the government at bukarest has devoted large sums to the maintenance of roumanian schools, of which the maximum number at any time has perhaps not exceeded forty. now if every other nation--greek, servian, bulgarian--which had hitherto maintained its propaganda of schools and churches in macedonia, was to bring its now emancipated children under the benign sway of the home government and also was to annex the macedonian lands which they occupied, why, roumania asked, should she be excluded from participation in the arrangement? she did not, it is true, join the allies in fighting the common moslem oppressor. but she maintained a benevolent neutrality. and since macedonia is not conterminous with roumania, she was not seeking to annex any portion of it. yet the rights those roumanians in macedonia gave her should be satisfied. and so arguing, the roumanian government claimed as a quid pro quo the adjoining northeastern corner of bulgaria, permitting bulgaria to recoup herself by the uncontested annexation of thrace and eastern macedonia. such was the roumanian reasoning. certainly it bore hard on bulgaria. but none of the belligerents showed any mercy on bulgaria. war is a game of ruthless self-interest. it was bulgaria who appealed to arms and she now had to pay the penalty. her losses enriched all her neighbors. what lord bacon says of individuals is still more true of nations: the folly of one is the fortune of another, and none prospers so suddenly as by others' errors. the work and reward of montenegro i have already sufficiently described the territorial gains of roumania, servia, and greece. but i must not pass over montenegro in silence. as the invincible warriors of king nicholas opened the war against the ottoman empire, so they joined servia and greece in the struggle against bulgaria. on sunday, june 29, i saw encamped across the street from my hotel in uskub 15,000 of these montenegrin soldiers who had arrived only a day or two before by train from mitrowitza, into which they had marched across novi bazar. tall, lithe, daring, with countenances bespeaking clean lives, they looked as fine a body of men as one could find anywhere in the world, and their commanding figures and manly bearing were set off to great advantage by their striking and picturesque uniforms. the officers told me next day that in a few hours they would be fighting at ghevgheli. their splendid appearance seemed an augury of victory for the serbs. montenegro too received her reward by an extension of territory on the south to the frontier of albania (as fixed by the great powers) and a still more liberal extension on the east in the sandjak of novi bazar. this patriarchal kingdom will probably remain unchanged so long as the present king lives, the much-beloved king nicholas, a genuinely homeric father of his people. but forces of an economic, social, and political character are already at work tending to draw it into closer union with servia, and the balkan wars have given a great impetus to these forces. a united serb state, with an adriatic littoral which would include the harbors of antivari and dulcigno, may be the future which destiny has in store for the sister kingdoms of servia and montenegro. if so, it is likely to be a mutually voluntary union; and neither austria-hungary nor italy, the warders of the adriatic, would seem to have any good ground to object to such a purely domestic arrangement. the problem of albania the albanians, though they rather opposed than assisted the allies in the war against turkey, were set off as an independent nation by the great powers at the instigation of austria-hungary with the support of italy. the determination of the boundaries of the new state was the resultant of conflicting forces in operation in the european concert. on the north while scutari was retained for albania through the insistence of austria-hungary, russian influence was strong enough to secure the albanian centres of ipek and djakova and prisrend, as well as dibra on the east, for the allied serb states. this was a sort of compensation to servia for her loss of an adriatic outlet at a time when the war between the allies, which was destined so greatly to extend her territories, was not foreseen. but while in this way albanians were excluded from the new state on the north and east, an incongruous compensation was afforded it on the south by an unjustifiable extension into northern epirus, whose population is prevailingly greek. the location of the boundary between albania and new greece was forced upon the great powers by the stand of italy. during the first war the greeks had occupied epirus or southern albania as far north as a line drawn from a point a little above khimara on the coast due east toward lake presba, so that the cities of tepeleni and koritza were included in the greek area. but italy protested that the greek occupation of territory on both sides of the straits of corfu would menace the control of the adriatic and insisted that the boundary between albania and greece should start from a point on the coast opposite the southern part of the island of corfu, greece, accordingly, was compelled to evacuate most of the territory she had occupied above janina. and albania subsequently attempted to assert her jurisdiction over it. but the task of albania is bound to be difficult. for though the great powers have provided it with a ruler--the german prince william of wied--there is no organized state. the albanians are one of the oldest races in europe, if not the oldest. but they have never created a state. and to-day they are hopelessly divided. it is a land of universal opposition--north against south, tribe against tribe, bey against bey. the majority of the population are mohammedan but there are many roman catholics in the north and in the south the greek orthodox church is predominant. the inhabitants of the north, who are called ghegs, are divided into numerous tribes whose principal occupation is fighting with one another under a system of perpetual blood-feuds and inextinguishable vendettas. there are no tribes in the south, but the people, who are known as tosks, live under territorial magnates called beys, who are practically the absolute rulers of their districts. the country as a whole is a strange farrago of survivals of primitive conditions. and it is not only without art and literature, but without manufactures or trade or even agriculture. it is little wonder that the greeks of epirus feel outraged by the destiny which the european powers have imposed upon them--to be torn from their own civilized and christian kindred and subjected to the sway of the barbarous mohammedans who occupy albania. nor is it surprising that since hellenic armies have evacuated northern epirus in conformity with the decree of the great powers, the inhabitants of the district, all the way from santi quaranta to koritza, are declaring their independence and fighting the albanians who attempt to bring them under the yoke. the future of albania is full of uncertainty. the state, however, was not created for the albanians, who for the rest, are not in a condition to administer or maintain it. the state was established in the interests of austria-hungary and italy. and those powers are likely to shape its future. the aegean islands and crete for the sacrifice demanded of greece in epirus the great powers permitted her by way of compensation to retain all the aegean islands occupied by her during the war, except imbros, tenedos, and the rabbit islands at the mouth of the dardanelles. these islands, however, greece is never to fortify or convert into naval bases. this allotment of the asiatic islands (which includes all but rhodes and the dodecanese, temporarily held by italy as a pledge of the evacuation of libya by the turkish officers and troops) has given great dissatisfaction in turkey, where it is declared it would be better to have a war with greece than cede certain islands especially chios and mitylene. the question of the disposition of the islands had, however, been committed by turkey to the great powers in the treaty of london. and turkish unofficial condemnation of the action of the powers now creates a dangerous situation. mr. venizelos declared not long ago, with the enthusiastic approval of the chamber, that the security of greece lay alone in the possession of a strong navy. for mr. venizelos personally nothing in all these great events can have been more gratifying than the achievement of the union of crete with greece. this was consummated on december 14, when the greek flag was hoisted on canea fort in the presence of king constantine, the prime minister, and the consuls of the great powers, and saluted with 101 guns by the greek fleet. king constantine fortune in an extraordinary degree has favored the king of the hellenes--fortune and his own wise head and valiant arm and the loyal support of his people. when before has a prince taken supreme command of a nation's army and in the few months preceding and succeeding his accession to the throne by successful generalship doubled the area and population of his country? [map: map3.png caption: the balkan peninsula after the wars of 1912-1913.] cost of the war the balkan wars have been bloody and costly. we shall never know of the thousands of men, women, and children who died from privation, disease, and massacre. but the losses of the dead and wounded in the armies were for montenegro 11,200, for greece 68,000, for servia 71,000, for bulgaria 156,000, and for turkey about the same as for bulgaria. the losses in treasure were as colossal as in blood. only rough computations are possible. but the direct military expenditures are estimated at figures varying from a billion and a quarter to a billion and a half of dollars. this of course takes no account of the paralysis of productive industry, trade, and commerce or of the destruction of existing economic values. yet great and momentous results have been achieved. although seated again in his ancient capital of adrianople, the moslem has been expelled from europe, or at any rate is no longer a european power. for the first time in more than five centuries, therefore, conditions of stable equilibrium are now possible for the christian nations of the balkans. whether the present alignment of those states toward one another and towards the great powers is destined to continue it would be foolhardy to attempt to predict. the future of the balkans but without pretending to cast a horoscope, certain significant facts may be mentioned in a concluding word. if the balkan states are left to themselves, if they are permitted to settle their own affairs without the intervention of the great powers, there is no reason why the existing relations between greece, servia, montenegro, and roumania, founded as they are on mutual interest, should not continue; and if they continue, peace will be assured in spite of bulgaria's cry for revenge and readjustment. the danger lies in the influence of the great powers with their varying attractions and repulsions. france, germany, and great britain, disconnected with the balkans and remote from them, are not likely to exert much direct individual influence. but their connections with the triple alliance and the triple entente would not leave them altogether free to take isolated action. and two other members of those european groups--russia and austria-hungary--have long been vitally interested in the balkan question; while the opposition to servian annexation on the adriatic littoral and of greek annexation in epirus now for the first time reveals the deep concern of italy in the same question. the serbs are slavs. and the unhappy relations between servia and austria-hungary have always intensified their pro-russian proclivities. the roumanians are a romance people, like the french and italians, and they have hitherto been regarded as a balkan extension of the triple alliance. the attitude of austria-hungary, however, during the balkan wars has caused a cooling of roumanian friendship, so that its transference to russia is no longer inconceivable or even improbable. greece desires to be independent of both groups of the european system, but the action of italy in regard to northern epirus and in regard to rhodes and the dodecanese has produced a feeling of irritation and resentment among the greeks which nothing is likely to allay or even greatly alleviate. bulgaria in the past has carried her desire to live an independent national life to the point of hostility to russia, but since stambuloff's time she has shown more natural sentiments towards her great slav sister and liberator. whether the desire of revenge against servia (and greece) will once more draw her toward austria-hungary only time can disclose. in any event it will take a long time for all the balkan states to recover from the terrible exhaustion of the two wars of 1912 and 1913. their financial resources have been depleted; their male population has been decimated. necessity, therefore, is likely to co-operate with the community of interest established by the treaty of bukarest in the maintenance of conditions of stable equilibrium in the balkans. of course the peace-compelling forces operative in the balkan states themselves might be counteracted by hostile activities on the part of some of the great powers. and there is one danger-point for which the great powers themselves are solely responsible. this, as i have already explained, is albania. an artificial creation with unnatural boundaries, it is a grave question whether this so-called state can either manage its own affairs or live in peace with its serb and greek neighbors. at this moment the greeks of epirus (whom the great powers have transferred to albania) are resisting to the death incorporation in a state which outrages their deepest and holiest sentiments of religion, race, nationality, and humane civilization. on the other hand the hoti and gruda tribes on the north fiercely resent annexation to montenegro (which the great powers have decreed) and threaten to summon to their support other malissori tribes with whom they have had a defensive alliance for several centuries. if prince william of wied is unable to cope with these difficulties, italy and austria-hungary may think it necessary to intervene in albania. but the intervention of either would almost certainly provoke compensatory action on the part of other european powers, especially russia. one can only hope that the great powers may have wisdom granted to them to find a peaceful solution of the embarrassing problem which they have created in setting up the new state of albania. that the albanians themselves will have an opportunity to develop their own national independence i find it impossible to believe. yet i heard in the summer of 1913 at valona from the lips of ismail kemal bey, the head of the provisional government, a most impressive statement of his hopes and aspirations for an independent albania and his faith and confidence in its future, in which he claimed to voice the sentiments of the albanian people. but, as i have already explained, i think it doubtful whether under the most favorable external circumstances the albanians are at present qualified to establish and maintain an independent state. and their destiny is so inextricably entangled with the ambitions of some of the great powers that the experiment stands no chance of getting a fair trial. i heartily wish the circumstances were other than they are. for as an american i sympathize with the aspirations of all struggling nationalities to be free and independent. and my interest in albania is deepened, as the interest of all americans must be deepened, by the fact that a large number of albanians have now found a home in the united states. distributed proofreaders europe at http://dp.rastko.net serbia in light and darkness by rev. father nicholai velimirovic with preface by the archbishop of canterbury _with 25 illustrations_ longmans, green and co. 39 paternoster row, london fourth avenue & 30th street, new york bombay, calcutta, and madras 1916 author's note. the aim of this volume is to give to the english-speaking people some glimpses into the past struggles, sufferings and hopes of the serbian nation. i have tried to describe the serbian life in _light_, in its peace, its peaceful work, its songs and prayers; in _darkness_, in its slavery, its sins, its resistance to evil and battle for freedom. it is only the peoples which suffer themselves that can understand and sympathise deeply with the serbian soul. i dedicate, therefore, the following pages to all those who suffer much in these times, and whose understandings are enlarged and human sympathies deepened by sufferings. i will take this opportunity of expressing my warm and respectful thanks to his grace the archbishop of canterbury for his kind assistance and generous commendation of my work in england. my gratitude is due to the rev. g.k.a. bell and dr. e. marion cox for their help in the revision of these pages. nicholai velimirovic. london, _april_, 1916. contents. preface by the archbishop of canterbury _part i._ lectures on serbia england and serbia serbia for cross and freedom serbia at peace serbia in arms _part ii._ fragments of serbian national wisdom _part iii._ fragments of serbian popular poetry illustrations. h.m. king peter crown prince alexander premier n. pashitch king milutin soldier on guard the goat-herd during turkish rule in serbia the monastery of cetinje the second serbian revolution of 1815 the monastery of kalenic serbian soldiers with an english nurse serbian officers under adrianople in 1912 the cattle market a typical montenegrin lady--h.m. queen milena peasant types the superior of a monastery king peter and the turkish general women doing the work of men _from a photograph by underwood and underwood_ serbian women carrying wounded _from a photograph by kind permission of mr. crawford price_ waiting for a place in the hospital _from a photograph by topical press agency_ "my mother." spliet-spalato a serbian refugee spinning by moonlight dubrovnik-ragusa preface by the archbishop of canterbury. the presence of father nicholai velimirovic in england during the last few months has brought to the many circles with which he has been in touch a new message and appeal enforced by a personality evoking an appreciation which glows more warmly the better he is known. but this little book is more than the revelation of a personality. it will be to many people the introduction to a new range of interest and of thought. he would be a bold man who would endeavour at present to limit or even to define what may be the place which the serbia of coming years may hold in eastern europe as a link between peoples who have been widely sundered and between forces both religious and secular which for their right understanding have needed an interpreter. of recent days the sculpture and the literature of serbia have been brought to our doors, and england's admiration for both has drawn the two countries more closely together in a common struggle for the ideals to which that art and literature have sought to give expression. it is not, i think, untrue to say that to the average english home this unveiling of serbia has been an altogether new experience. father nicholai's book will help to give to the revelation a lasting place in their minds, their hopes and their prayers. randall cantuar. lambeth, _easter_, 1916. _part i_ lectures on serbia england and serbia. _delivered for the first time in the chapter house of canterbury cathedral. chairman: the lord archbishop of canterbury._ the sign of the church of england. your grace, ladies and gentlemen, to come to canterbury, to visit this sion of the church of england, that has been my dream since my fourteenth year, when i for the first time was told of what a spiritual work and of what an immortal glory this place has been the home. i dreamed a beautiful dream of hope to come here silently, to let every man, every house and every brick of the houses silently teach me, and, after having learned many fair and useful things, to return silently and thankfully home. unfortunately i cannot now be a silent and contemplative pupil in this place, as i desired to be, but i must speak, forced by the time in which we are living and suffering. i will speak in order not to teach you, but to thank you. and i have to thank you much in the name of the serbian nation and in my own name. i thank you that you are so mindful of serbia, of a poor and suffering country that failed so much in many respects, but never failed in admiration of the english character and civilisation. from central european civilisation we received a small light and a great shadow. from english civilisation we got--i dare say it--the light only. there is no doubt that english civilisation, being a great light, must have its shadow also, but our eyes, blinded by the great light, did not see the dark side of this light. i thank you that you gave us shakespeare, who is the second bible for the world; and milton the divine, and newton and herschel, the friends of the stars; and wellington and nelson, the fearless conquerors of the ambitious tyrant of the world; and stephenson, the great inventor of the railway and the great annihilator of distance between man and man; and carlyle, the enthusiastic apostle of work and hope; and dickens, the advocate of the humble and poor; and darwin, the ingenious revealer of brotherly unity of man and nature; and ruskin, the splendid interpreter of beauty and truth; and gladstone, the most accomplished type of a humane statesman; and bishop westcott and cardinal newman, the illuminated brains and warm hearts. no, i never will finish if i undertake to enumerate all the illustrious names which are known in serbia as well as in england, and which would be preserved in their integrity in serbia even if this island should sink under the waters. i have to thank you for many sacrifices that the people of this country have made for serbia during the present world-struggle. many of the english nurses and doctors died in serbia in trying courageously to save serbian lives in the time of typhus-devastation. they lost their own lives saving ours, and i hope in losing their lives for their suffering neighbours they have found better ones. their work will never be forgotten and their tombs will be respected as relics among us serbs. besides, great britain also sent military help for serbia. it was dictated to great britain by the highest strategic reasons to send troops to serbia, to the danube, in order to stop the germans there, to hinder their junction with the bulgars, to annihilate all their plans and dreams regarding the east, to defend serbia not only as serbia, but as the gate of egypt and india, and so to protect in the proper place and in the most efficacious manner her oriental dominions. but seemingly england sent her troops to serbia more to protect her honour than her dominions, more to help serbia than to defend egypt and india. the number of these troops and the time when they arrived in serbia indicate that. hundreds of miles the serbs had been driven back by the enemy before the british forces reached the serbo-greek frontier. but still they reached the serbian land, they fought on serbian soil and shed their noble blood defending that soil. serbia will rather forget herself than the english lives sacrificed for her in such a catastrophic moment of her history. england is the greatest empire of the world, not only at the present time, but since the beginning of human history. neither the artificial combination of alexander of macedonia nor the ancient roman empire, neither spain of charles v. nor napoleon's ephemeral dominion were nearly so great as the british empire of to-day. never has a nation possessed so much sea and so much land as the british. this wonderful empire includes people of every race, countries of every climate, human societies of every degree of civilisation, almost all kinds of minerals, plants and animals, lakes and rivers, mountains and forests. the most ancient civilisations of egypt, india and the mediterranean islands are brought together in conjunction under the same rule as the new worlds, like south africa, canada and australasia. the communication between the zones of the everlasting snow and those of the everlasting hot sun is established in perfection. the countries and peoples which were for thousands of years in contact with each other only through dreams are now in real contact through business, trade, science, art, and through common sufferings and hopes. still it might be asked: has such a great body indeed an aim? short-sighted people, who are ready at once with a reply on any question, will say: the only aim of this great empire is the exploitation of every country and every body by the english with the pretext of civilisation. so may think some english too. what can we say about the aim of the greatest empire? the truth is that the real aim of this empire is larger than the selfishness of any person or of any nation. the real aim is: _first_, to exchange the material products of the countries, and so to create a greater comfort for the people that live in them. in the wildest islands in the pacific you can find--i will mention only little things--the same fine sofas, fireplaces, draperies, modern kitchens, piano and library, electric light and cablegrams, as in london. and in foggy and smoky london you can have all the african fruits, australian wine and wool, canadian metals and wood, indian beasts and african ivory. _second_, to exchange the spiritual good of races and nations. the wisdom of the world is not concentrated in the brains of any single nation. every nation has some original experiences of its own about this life. the eskimos have certainly something new to say to the people from the plains of the ganges and the nile. and these people, these descendants, of buddha and rameses, as well as the descendants of moses and hamurrabai, have things to say that never were thought possible in the countries of perpetual snow and ice in northern canada. such is of the greatest profit for science, religion, ethics, sociology, art. darwin and spencer, with their immense scientific experiences, were possible only in such a world-empire as the english. the words of tagore, the indian thinker, can be heard to-day without great delay on the atlantic and pacific, as well as in india. when a genius is born in new zealand his message reaches the world, and his glory cannot be concealed in the southern hemisphere. _third_: this empire is an experiment in the realisation of human brotherhood. i repeat, through the medium of this empire man is brought near to man, and nation to nation, and race to race. it was very difficult in the ancient roman empire to become _civis romanus_, because this empire was founded upon the pagan philosophy of lords and servants. it is, on the contrary, very easy in the british empire of to-day to become a british citizen, because the british empire is founded upon the christian philosophy of democratic equality and brotherhood. all is not accomplished, but i say it is an experiment, and a good one; a prophecy, and a hopeful one. _fourth_: great britain is destined by providence to be a great educator of nations. that is her part in history. she has democracy and tradition--two things that are considered everywhere as incongruous--and therefore she is capable of understanding everybody and of teaching and leading everybody. she is the nurse for the sick people of the east; she is the schoolmaster for the rough people of the wild isolated islands; she is the tamer of the cannibals and the guide of the civilised; she inspires, vivifies, unites and guides; she equalises; she christianises. i read the other day a german menacing song: we are going, we are going to see who will henceforth govern the world- england or god? i can say certainly--god. he will govern the world. but we can say to-day, though in due humility: _gesta dei per britannos_. would you know assuredly through which of the powerful nations god is working to-day? ask only which of these nations is most the champion of the rights of the small and poor nations, and you will find out the truth. for from the beginning of the world-history all the leading religions and philosophies called the great and powerful to protect the poor and powerless. the record of this recommendation belongs doubtless to the christian religion. the suggestion of all the religions was like this: it is impossible to be proud and selfish under the eyes of god. the suggestion of the christian religion is: under the eyes of god the more you have the more you must give, and the more you give the more you have; and if you even give your life for men, you will find a better life in god. what is serbia then? if we serbs look upon the english power on this planet, and then look and see our own less than modest place on the globe, we must unwillingly exclaim in the words of the psalmist: o lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him?--or with a little change: o england, what is serbia, that thou art mindful of her? and the poor sons of serbia, that thou visitest them? a small strip of land with five million inhabitants and without seaboard. a peasant people devoted to agriculture and to nature, to the forest and cattle, to songs and tales. a past full of glory, of blood and sins. a present full of tears, pains and hopes. a king carried on a stretcher through the rocky desert of albania,--a loyal parliament which refused to make a separate peace with the enemy even in the darkest hour of national tragedy,--an honest government which did everything possible to save the country, and which, when the country was nearly conquered, exclaimed through its president: "it is better to die in beauty than to live in shame!"--a fearless army, which for three years only knew victory, now watching in snow on the mountains of montenegro and albania, and lodging in the dens of wolves and eagles.[1] another army of old men, of women and children, fleeing away from death and rushing to death. shall i say that is serbia? no: that is only a part of serbia. you have heard talk of greater serbia. i personally think that serbia can never be greater than in this solemn hour of her supreme suffering, in which all the civilised world in both hemispheres trembles because of her catastrophe and sympathises with her. i personally love my little country just because it is so little; and just because its deeds are greater than its size. i am not sure that i should love it so much should it happen to become territorially so big as spain or italy. but i cannot help it; i must say that our irridentists in austro-hungary are more numerous than our population in serbia. eight millions of our serbo-croat and slovene brothers have been looking towards serbia as towards their piedmont, waiting their salvation from serbia, as alsace-lorraine is waiting its salvation from france, and being proud of serbia as all slaves are proud of their free kinsmen. all the slaves from isonzo to scutari are groaning under the yoke of an inhuman austro-magyar regime, and are singing of serbia as their redeemer from chains and shame. little serbia has been conscious of her great historic task, to liberate and unite all the southern-slavs in one independent being; therefore she, with supreme effort, collected all her forces to fulfil her task and her duty, and so to respond to the vital hopes of her brethren. shall i say that is serbia? no; that is only physical serbia. but there is a soul of serbia. for five hundred years the serbian soul suffered and believed. suffering sometimes breaks the belief. but the serbian suffering strengthened the belief of the serbian people. with belief came hope, with hope strength; and so the serbs endured the hardest and darkest slavery ever recorded in history, not so much by their physical strength as by the strength of their soul. besides, it was a great temptation for the serbs to abandon the christian faith and to accept the faith of the crescent. under this condition only, the turks promised freedom to the serbs and equal rights. several of the aristocratic families could not resist this temptation and became renegade to the faith of their ancestors in order to save their lives. but the mass of the people fearlessly continued to be faithful to the belief in the cross. allow me to give you only a few examples of the activity of the serbian soul in the time when the serbian body was in chains. although the serbian body was enslaved, the serbian soul was still free and active. here are some proverbs made during the time of slavery and abasement of the body: it is better not to be born than to misuse life. the sun sees everything and keeps silent; the foolish man knows nothing and still talks. why does god send suffering to the best of his children? because the weak cannot endure it. the tears of the weak are accusations of the strong; the tears of the poor are accusations of the rich; the tears of the righteous will be transformed into diamonds under the throne of god. a king asks another king: how many people do you govern? but if god speaks to a king, he asks: how many people are you helping? even the dry leaves cry out when trodden on; why should not the trodden man cry out? it is better to give life than to take life. if you give life, you do what god does; if you take life, you do what satan does. some men are better than others, but there is no man so good as god and no one so bad as the devil. some people are dressed in silk and satin, and others are dressed in rags. very often that is the only difference between man and man. there is a great difference between a learned man and a good man. the learned man can do good, but the good man will do good. the learned man can build the world up, but can destroy it too; the good man can only build it up. a man's judgment lasts as long as a man's life, but god's judgment lasts as long as god. it is better to dress the soul in silk and the body in rags than the reverse. if life does not mean work, then life is worth nothing. work and virtue are sisters, as well as idleness and vice. work and prayer are two eyes on the same face. the man who works only, without praying, has one eye only; and the man who prays without working only has one eye too. the man who neither works nor prays has no eyes, and walks in darkness. neither be boastful of life nor fearful of death. death is conditioned by life, and life by death. you can kill me, but my son will live; you can kill my son, but my soul will live. the kingdom of god is coming as quietly as the moonlight, and it will come fully when men learn not to live in convulsions and not to die in convulsions. there are only two nations upon the earth: that which weeps and that which laughs. now i would like to indicate slightly what the english political interests in serbia are. little as she may seem, democratic serbia is still the greatest moral factor in the big slav world. she is admired by other subjugated slavs because she succeeded without anybody's help in freeing herself. she is envied by all other slavs, from near and from far, as well as from other neighbouring nations, because of her nearly perfect democracy. serbia is the only democratic state among the four independent slav states (russia, montenegro, bulgaria). and just in this terrible war it became clear to all the world that serbia was the only democratic state in the near east. turkey is governed by an oligarchy, bulgaria by a german despot, greece by a wilful king whose patriotism is overshadowed by his nepotism, roumania is ruled more by the wish of the landlords (boyars) and court than by the wish of the people. i will say nothing about the very profanation of democracy in the dark realm of the hapsburgs. serbia not only means a democratic state, but a democratic nation; that is to say, that not only are the serbian institutions (including the church also) democratic, but the spirit of the whole of the nation is democratic. after all, this democratic spirit of serbia must be victorious in the balkans as well as in the slav world. you know that england's glory has always been to stand as the champion of democracy. england's best interests in the near east now more than ever imperatively require her to support democratic serbia against her anti-democratic enemies. how different serbia is from all her neighbours was clearly proved just by this war. she is alone in the near east fighting on the side of the democratic england and france against prussian militarism and autocracy. that does not happen accidentally, but because of the serbian democratic spirit. this spirit is very attractive for all the slavs who are under the austro-hungarian rule. many of them are looking towards powerful russia to liberate them (poles, bohemians, ruthenes, slovaks). yet they do not wish only freedom, but _freedom_ and _democracy_ together. therefore they are looking with one eye towards russian power and with another towards serbian democracy. it is clear that the english victory over the germans must have as the first consequence the liberation of all the slaves in europe. in this case all the southern slav people in austro-hungary--serbs, croats and slovenes--wish to be one unit with democratic serbia, as it was formulated lately by the southern-slav committee in london, and all the others--poles, bohemians, ruthenes and slovaks--wish to be _like_ democratic serbia. consequently serbia is a kernel, a nucleus of a greater southern-slav state, and at the same time the inspiring and revolutionising power for all the down-trodden slavs. this kernel for five hundred years was the little, but never subjugated, montenegro, but lately the piedmontal role has been transferred to serbia. the english political interest in the future greater serbia, or yougoslavija, is of the first importance. the southern-slav state will number about fourteen millions of inhabitants. this state will be the very gate of the east. yet serbia is not only the nucleus of the united southern slavdom, but the very nucleus of a balkan federation also, in which the greco-roumanian element should be a good balance to the slav element in it. i repeat i like my little country just because it is so comparatively little. but by necessity it is to become much larger. by necessity the whole of the serbian race is to be freed and united. by necessity the southern-slav state and the balkan federation are to be realised. some of our neighbours may be against that, but all their opposing effort will be in vain. every intrigue against the serbian ideals of freedom and unity cannot effect a suppression, but only a short prolongation of the period of its realisation. behold, the time has come, the fruit has grown ripe. all the serbian race has now been plunged into slavery. united to-day in slavery, they have now only one wish--to be united to-morrow in freedom. england is bound to russia more by a political or military treaty, but she is bound to serbia, and through serbia with all other democratic slav worlds more by spirit--just by this democratic spirit. this spirit which divides the slav world into two different camps, unites england with one of them,--with the democratic camp, the champion of which has been serbia. a very curious spirit dwells in the little serbian body, a very curious and great spirit, which will, i am sure, give form to the future balkans as well as to the future democratic slavdom. and be sure this spirit is rather panhumanistic than panslavistic. but after all, when i think of 400 million inhabitants of the british empire and remember such a poor topic, as my country, about which i am just speaking, i must cry again: england, what is serbia, that thou art mindful of her? and the poor sons of serbia, that thou visitest them? still, serbia is an admirer and friend of england, and that is a good reason why england should look sympathetically towards little serbia. there is a serbian proverb: "a wise lion seeks friends not only among the lions, but among the bees too." of course serbia needs england much more than england needs serbia. i will not now dwell upon serbia's material needs; i will tell you about what are serbia's spiritual needs. to begin with the children, the serbian children need good education. our schools give more knowledge than strength of character and a humane cultivated will. our national poetry and history have educated our people much better than modern science did. still we perceive that science is necessary for a good education in our times. therefore we very much need to consult england in this respect. we well know how english education is estimated all over the world. england can help us much to educate the new serbian generations in the best way, because such a country as serbia deserves indeed a noble and worthy future in which to live. don't you agree with me? only i am afraid that i am speaking of the best education of the serbian children just at this moment when it were perhaps more suitable to speak about the best way to save them from hunger, pain and death. the serbian women need to develop their capacities more for social work, so as to take a more important part in the organisation and cultivation of their lives. the past of our women consisted in singing, weaving and weeping. i am sure that the english women, whose sympathy for serbia in these tragic days will remain memorable for ever,--i am sure that after this war they will come to serbia and help their poor sisters over there, teaching them and enlightening them. yet i am again afraid to dwell longer upon the topic of the enlightenment of the serbian mothers at the very moment when those mothers with their sons and daughters, trodden down by the prussian boot, look towards heaven and silently confess their sins, preparing themselves for a cruel death. what do the serbian men need? they need civilisation, or in other words: the bible, science, art. but they do not need the bible of killing from germany, nor the science of killing and the art of killing from germany. they do not want the civilisation which means the large and skilful manufacture of instruments of killing. they want the bible which makes good, and science which makes bright, and art which makes godlike. therefore the men of serbia are now looking so eagerly towards england and her civilisation. more english civilisation in our country, more england in serbia--that is our great spiritual need! my illustrious chairman, the most reverend archbishop of canterbury, wrote recently in one of his books: "we are everywhere trying in these later years to understand and to alleviate human sorrow." [2] yes, you are. we serbians feel your sorrows too. "to understand and to alleviate human sorrow." that is the divine purpose of a humane civilisation. that is the final aim of our terrestrial education--to understand each other, and to support each other. do you think that it is difficult for a rich nation as well as for a rich man to come into the kingdom of heaven? i am a little embarrassed seeing rich england now coming into this kingdom. yet she is coming into the kingdom of god, not because she is rich, but because she being powerful humiliated herself, took the cross and went to suffer for the poor and sorely stricken in this world. she humiliated herself going to support belgium; she humiliates herself hurrying to support serbia; she humiliates herself mourning so much for armenia. but her humiliation is the best proof of her true christianity, as her fighting and suffering of to-day is the very fighting and suffering for christianity. do not be afraid of humiliation, citizens of the greatest empire of the world; behold, the humiliation is the very condition of real glory and real greatness! for more than a thousand years, from this place has been preached the only son of god, whose way to glory, greatness and divinity was through painful humiliation. do persist and do not weary in this way,--it will bring your dear country nearer to god. do persist in humiliation,--it will be the most durable foundation of a glorious young england. do persist in supporting oppressed and poor serbia,--it will be rewarded hundredfold to your children and to the children of your children. do persist in doing good, that is my final word to you, my enlightened brethren and sisters. and when i say _do persist in good_, i repeat only what for nine hundred years has been preached within these walls by thousands and thousands of servants of christ, either well-known or unknown, but all more worthy than i am. serbia for cross and freedom. _delivered for the first time in the church of the holy trinity, stroud green, london._ i was a citizen of a small country called serbia, and i am still a citizen of a great country called the universe. in my first fatherland there is now no other light except the brightness of tears. but in my second fatherland there is always the splendid and silent light of the sun. my little country is now a great tear-drop, a shining and silent tear-drop. a gentleman from south africa wrote to me the other day and asked about my country--"why it is so shining"? i replied: just because it is now transformed into a big tear-drop, therefore it is so shining that even you from south africa can see its splendour. i come as an echo of the weeping splendour of my country which is now plunged into the worst slavery. i come as a voice beyond the grave to your famous island, brethren and sisters, not to accuse, not to complain, but to say by what invisible bonds my country is tied to yours. i will say at once, plainly and simply--by common beliefs and common hopes. at the time when saint patrick preached christ's gospel in heathen ireland, the serbs were heathen as well. their gods, with perun at the head, corresponded to wothan and his divine colleagues, whose names are recalled in your names of the days of the week still. about the time when saint augustine came over here, met queen bertha and baptised king ethelbert in saint martin's church in canterbury, the conversion of the heathen serbs had made good progress. in the time of alfred the great, who was "the most complete embodiment of all that is great, all that is lovable in the english temper," as an english historian praises him so justly, the serbs received god's word in their own language from the slav apostles, cyril and methodius, and soon afterwards the christian faith was officially introduced and established among them. in the time of the conquest, when the norman and danish kings disputed the possession of england, the serbian provinces were fought over by the greek, bulgar and avar rulers. but the belief in christ grew more and more uninterruptedly. when richard the lion-hearted sailed from england to the holy land, not to fight for the national existence, as we to-day speak of it, but to fight for the most unselfish and idealistic aim, for cross and christian freedom, serbia was already opening a great epoch of physical as well as spiritual strength. our king nemanja, the founder of a dynasty which ruled in serbia for nearly 300 years, had heard tales and songs about the english king with the lion's heart, and had helped the same cause, the cause of the crusades, very much. his son, saint sava, organised the christian church wonderfully, and wonderfully he inspired the educational and scholarly work in the state created by his father. this saint sava, the archbishop of serbia, after he had travelled all over serbia, greece and bulgaria, preaching the gospel of the son of god, died in bulgaria. his body was transferred to and buried in a monastery in herzegovina. afterwards, in times of national hardships and slavery, great pilgrimages took place to the grave of the saint, which became the comforting and inspiring centre for the oppressed nation; the turks destroyed the tomb, carried the body over to belgrade and burnt it, in order to lessen the serbian national and religious enthusiasm. the result was just the contrary. on the very same place where saint sava's body was burnt there is now a saint sava's chapel; close to this chapel a new saint sava's seminary is to be erected, and also saint sava's cathedral of belgrade. and over all there is an acknowledged protection of saint sava by all the serbian churches and schools, and a unifying spirit of saint sava for all the serbian nation. saint sava's belief was the same as the belief of saint patrick and saint augustine. his hopes were the same as theirs too. he believed in the one saving gospel of christ, as they did. he hoped men could be educated by this divine gospel, to be heroic in suffering and pure and holy in the enjoyments of life, just as the great saints of this island doubtless hoped and worked. the belief and hopes of the serbian kings represented almost throughout our history the model of the true religious spirit and of the hopeful optimism of the nation. that can be said especially for the kings since saint sava's time until the definite conquest of serbia by the sultans, _i.e._ since richard and john's time until the time of the black prince and wycliffe, and from the black prince and wycliffe till the end of the wars of the roses in england. our kings did what all the kings in the world do; they fought and ruled, they ate and drank, and danced and played, and still the majority of them took monastic vows and died in solitude and asceticism, and a great part of them were recognised by the people as saints and invoked by the oppressed in the dark times as the advocates of national justice, before god. they built beautiful churches and monasteries in the towns and forests. they strove always to build the "houses of god" more solid and more costly than their own houses. their castles and palaces they built to their own glory, and their pleasures no longer exist, but the churches they built to the glory of god still exist. in these churches our pious kings of old prayed; in these churches afterwards our hard oppressed people wept during the time of slavery; in these "houses of god" the fanatic turks enclosed their cattle, their goats and sheep, their horses and donkeys, thus abasing and ridiculing our sanctuaries. but the more these sanctuaries have been abased and ridiculed by the enemy, the more they have been respected and adored by the people. we serbs cannot complain that our middle ages were as dark as the people in europe are accustomed to represent their own. during the three hundred years of the reign of neniania's dynasty not one of our kings was killed. the importance of this fact only the historian can understand who knows well the history of our neighbours, the byzantines and venetians of that time, who in many other respects had been our teachers. we learnt many useful as well as perilous things from them, but we did not learn their art of poisoning kings, of torturing them, suffocating them, making them blind, cutting out their tongues, etc. it is only in modern times that we committed the great sins of the middle ages, namely, killing our kings and making civil wars. during the last hundred years we killed only three of our kings: karageorge, michael and alexander. in modern times three have been killed in a hundred years, and in the middle ages not one in three hundred years!--a fact as unusual as curious. but you should remember that our modern times in serbia began after five hundred years of a bloody slavery and dark education under turkish tyranny. i mention our great sins not in order to excuse but to accuse my people. i will not even accuse the turks, our rulers and educators during five hundred years. our ancestors were accustomed to see human blood spilt every day. they were accustomed to hear about strangled sultans and viziers and pashas. and, besides, they lived through the record of all the crimes ever written in history; the turks arranged a horrible bloody bath in executing their plan of killing all the leaders and priests among the serbs! it happened only a hundred years ago, in the lifetime of chateaubriand and wordsworth, in the time of pitt and burke, in the time of your strenuous mission work among the cannibals. our ancestors lived in blood and walked in blood. our five hundred years' long slavery had only two colours--red and black. and yet i will not accuse the turks but ourselves. neither our kings of old, nor our ancestors before the enslavement set us the example of killing kings. rather the strangers that conquered and ruled our country set us such an example. but it is our fault for having followed an abominable example like that. i confess our sins before you, and pray: forgive us, good brothers! forgive us, if you can. god will not forgive us. that is the belief of our people. god is merciful, but still he does not forgive without punishment. god is righteous and sinless, and therefore he has right to punish every sin of man. but it were a monstrous pretension for men to punish every sin, being themselves sinful, very sinful. we will forgive all your mediaeval, if you will forgive us our modern sins. remember! god will begin to "forgive us our trespasses" only at the moment when we all forgive the trespasses of all those that have sinned against us. he will forgive us then, because he will not have anything more to punish. god's mercilessness begins when our mercifulness ends. god will rule the world by justice as long as we rule it by our mercilessness. he will rule the world by mercifulness when we forgive each other, but not before. to forgive the sins of men means for us nothing more than to confess our own sins. to forgive the sins of men means for god nothing less than to let the events be without consequences. and it contradicts human experiences or science. it contradicts also the experiences of our kings of old. they saw and heard of the sins punished, and they feared sin. they regarded humility and mercifulness as the greatest virtues. on the day of the "slava," which means a special serbian festival of the saint patron of the family (every serbian family has its patron among the saints or angels which it celebrates solemnly every year, instead of celebrating their own birthdays), on this day our kings themselves served their guests at the table. it was a visible sign of their humility before the divine powers that rule human life. besides, on every festive occasion in the royal court was placed a bountiful table with meat and drink for beggars and the most abject poor. the king was obliged by his christian conscience and even by national tradition to be merciful. how the people regarded the kings is clear from popular sayings like these: every king is from god. if a king is generous he is from god, as a king should be from god. if a king is narrow and selfish he is from god, as a monkey is from god. a wise king speaks three times to god and only once to the people. a foolish king speaks three times to the people and only once to god. speaking to god a wise king thinks always of his people, and speaking to the people he always thinks of god. a foolish king thinks of himself always, whether he speaks to god or to the people. every king has a crown, but every kingly crown stands not on a kingly head. a gipsy asked a king: of how much value are your riches? the king replied: not more than your freedom. the smile of the king is medicine for a poor man, the laugh of the king is an offence for the mourning one. a king who fears god has pity for the people, but a king who fears the people has pity for himself. the face of a good king lends splendour to his crown, and the crown of a bad king lends splendour to his face. the sins of the people can only sooner bring the king before god, but the sins of the king can push the people to satan's house. the belief of our kings was the same belief which saint sava preached, their hopes were his hopes. god is the eternal and powerful king of the world; christ is the way of salvation from sin; good must be in the end victorious over evil. that was the belief and hope of our kings. was it not likewise the belief and hope of king ethelbert, of saint oswald and edward the confessor? did not richard the lion-hearted struggle for the same belief and hope in palestine, which was at his time as far as a voyage around this planet to-day? is not this same belief and hope the corner stone of westminster abbey and saint paul's, of this church and of every church on this island, and of every great and beautiful deed that you inherited from your ancestors? yet the belief and hopes of our kings were never different from the belief and hopes of the serbian people. the serbian people have shown their individuality only in the dark time of their slavery. the saint and the heroic kings died, but their souls lived still in the hearts of their people, in the white churches they built among the green mountains, in their deeds of mercifulness and repentance. the enslaved people were conscious that there were no more kings of their own who represented all that was the best in the serbian soul, and that they, the people, have now themselves to represent the serbian name, belief and hopes before god and their enemies. and they have done it. at the time when columbus sailed over the seas to find a new continent in the name of the most christian king of spain, the serbian suffering for the christian religion had already begun. at the time when the famous english thinker thomas more wrote _utopia_, preaching brotherhood among men based upon religious and political freedom, the serbs stood there without any shadow of religious and political freedom, dreaming of and singing about the human brotherhood founded only on the ruins of both tyranny and slavery. at the time when the great shakespeare wrote his tragedies in ink, the serbs wrote theirs in blood. at the time when cromwell fought in the name of the bible for the domestic freedom of parliament, the serbian leaders gathered in the lonely forests to tell each other of the crimes that they saw defiling the cross, to confess to each other their cruel sufferings and to encourage each other to live. at the time when milton wrote _paradise lost_, the serbs felt more than anybody in the world the loss of paradise. at the time when livingstone went to dark africa with the light of human civilisation, serbia was ruled by darker powers even than central africa. at the time when the great english philosopher locke wrote his famous book on the education of men, the people of serbia had no schools and no teachers at all; they educated themselves by the memories of the great deeds of the heroes of the past, by looking at their kings' churches, and by glorifying a death for justice and a life of suffering. at the time when adam smith wrote his famous work, _the wealth of nations_, the serbian nation possessed only one form of wealth, and that was the inward wealth of the glorious inheritance of strong belief and of bright hopes. all other forms of wealth that it saw around in the large world, including its own physical life, belonged not to it but to its enemies. at the time when your learned priests and bishops discussed the subtle theological questions of the relations between time and eternity, between justice and forgiveness, between the son and the holy ghost, between transcendence and omnipresence, our priests and patriarchs had to defend the religion of the cross from the aggressive crescent, and to protect the lives of the oppressed, and to lead and inspire the souls of their flock. i think both your and our priests did their duty according to the time and circumstances under which they lived and worked. "for cross and freedom" has been our national motto. it is written on our flag and in the hearts of each of us. our motto never was "for existence" or "for vital interests." that was an unknown form of language to our kings of old, and that is still a language very strange for our ears to hear to-day. we never fought indeed solely for a poor existence in this world. we fought always rather for the ideal contentment of this terrestrial existence. we fought not for life only, but for what makes one's life worth living--"for cross and freedom!" the cross is mentioned first, and then freedom. why? because the cross of christ is the condition of a real freedom. or, because the cross is for god's sake and our freedom is for our sake. we should fight for god's sake first and then for our own. that was the idea. or, because cross and freedom are two words for the same thing. the religion of the cross involves freedom, and real freedom is to be found only in the religion of the cross. "for cross and freedom!" a serbian proverb says: the cross shines better in the heart and the crescent in the hand. another: why are there so many mohammedans in the world? because the crescent pays every day during life to its followers, and the cross pays only after death. have confidence in christ and follow him even into the house of the devil, because he knows the way out. twelve poor apostles did more good to man than the twelve richest sultans. in vain you will ask from god any good without suffering. for suffering is the very heart of every good, of glory, and of pleasure as well. every drop of christ's innocent blood must be paid for by a lake of men's blood. it is better to die for the cross than to live against the cross. when you fight for freedom you are helping every slave in the world, not only yourself. freedom is an atmosphere which makes the sun brighter, and the air clearer, and the honey sweeter. to die for the cross and freedom means two lives and no death. a wolf never can so badly enslave a fellow-wolf as a man can enslave a fellow-man. it is not easier to live in freedom than to fight for freedom. one must fight for freedom as an archangel, but one must live in freedom as a saint. all men that god created can live on the earth. god gave space and air enough for all, if men only would give goodwill. when you pass the tomb of a man who died for cross and freedom, you should bow your head low; and when you pass the palace of a man who lives for wealth and pleasure, only turn your head the other way. i observed during this world-struggle the conduct, deeds and words of our serbian neighbours, and i was in the end both very sorry and very glad. i was very sorry as i read the declaration of a bulgarian statesman: "we bulgars must be on the side of the victors." i was very glad remembering that never in the whole serbian history have such words been uttered by a responsible person. our kings of old said very often that serbia must fight on the side of justice, even if justice has for the moment no visible chance to be victorious. our saint king, lazare, refused on the eve of the _battle of kossovo_ to negotiate with the turkish sultan, whom he regarded as a bearer of injustice and an enemy of christianity. i was very sorry to see that greece broke her pledged word and thoughtlessly refused to keep her treaty with serbia, whereas france with england, who had no signed treaty with serbia, came and did what in the first place it was greece's duty to do. i was still more glad and hopeful in regard to the future of mankind, seeing a great difference of moral views between the leading nations of human civilisation like the english and french, and a small nation like the greek, which is commencing to learn again what many hundred years ago greece taught all other nations. and i was very glad remembering that in our _own_ serbian history there is no case of such an example of infidelity or even of hesitation to fulfil the pledged word of the nation. in this respect the serbian women excelled as well as men. therefore, and because i am speaking before you, brothers and sisters, whose country may be proud not only of a large number of great men of every kind, but of great and famous women as well, i must mention the memorable qualities of the serbian women in the long fight for cross and freedom. what sacrifices _for cross and freedom the serbian_ _women_ have made cannot be enumerated from this pulpit, but only slightly touched upon in a few examples. i take just three splendid names: miliza, yerina and ljubiza. _queen miliza_ was a lady of a peaceful domestic character. but she was also the wife of the most tragic king in our serbian history, of king lazare, who perished with all his army on the field of kossovo fighting for cross and freedom against islam rushing over europe. she had nine brothers--nine brothers and a father. all were killed on kossovo together with king lazare, and miliza survived that catastrophe. after the death of king lazare, queen miliza ruled the country together with her son, stephen the tall. but sultan bayazet asked three things from the new rulers in serbia. firstly, he asked for miliza's daughter mara for his harem. miliza gave her daughter. then bayazet asked a second, more dreadful thing, namely, that his unfortunate mother-in-law should build a mosque in krushevaz, the serbian capital at that time, so as to have a place where he could pray when he came to visit her. there existed and still exists a beautiful church built by king lazare. now miliza was constrained to build, close to this dear monument of her husband, in which she prayed every day for his soul and for the salvation of serbia, a turkish mosque. she agreed silently and she protested silently. then bayazet asked a third still more dreadful thing, namely, that stephen the tall should help him with his troops in a time of danger for the turkish empire. queen miliza with a broken heart advised her son to sign such a treaty in order to save the rest of the state and people. but very soon it happened that bayazet needed and asked for stephen's help against the formidable mongol conqueror tamerlan. stephen hated both the asiatic monsters--bayazet and tamerlan--equally, and it was more profitable for him to break the treaty with bayazet and to help tamerlan, who had more chance. but he remained faithful to his pledged word. bayazet was beaten, taken prisoner and encaged as a beast by tamerlan. and stephen, after having fought splendidly for his ally with the serbian cavalry, came home. when thinking over the present conduct of our greek ally, i am reminded very often of this noble and loyal king of my country. queen miliza could not endure any longer all the terrible changes from bad to worse; she transferred all the power to her son, built a wonderful monastery, ljubostinja, near krushevaz, where she as a nun found a retreat in which to pray and to live, until the end of her weary and melancholy life. _queen yerina_ was the last serbian ruler in the country, which slowly sank into slavery. she was very intelligent and very energetic. the turkish sultan took two sons of hers as hostages. she gave them up, and she continued to rule the country. but both of her sons were blinded by red-hot irons and sent back to their mother. even this did not break yerina's energy. she constructed great fortresses all over the country to protect the people from the enemy's invasion. she never had any rest, thinking and working to save serbia. she offered the most obstinate resistance to the turks as well as to the discontented faction among the serbs. many of her contemporaries were ungrateful to her and called her the "cursed yerina," but still posterity bestows upon her great admiration and sympathy. _princess ljubiza_ came on the scene of our history only a hundred years ago, in the days of the serbian revolution and resurrection. as queen miliza and yerina sacrificed all to save the honour of serbia, so ljubiza did her best to help her husband, prince milosh, to liberate the country from the turks. once after the second revolution broke out, the serbian troops were engaged in a bloody battle on morava river. but the turks were in an overwhelming majority, besides that they had better arms and more munitions. the frightened serbian troops fled. ljubiza saw that the situation was quite decisive for the whole future, ran to meet the soldiers, and to admonish them to go back and fight. "what wretched soldiers you are!" she cried. "are not the turks made of flesh and blood as you? cannot their blood be shed as yours? whither are you running? home? but we women only are at home. well, come home, take our distaff and spin, and give us your rifles; we will go and fight." the soldiers were so ashamed and encouraged by this remarkable woman that they turned back and began to fight anew so fiercely that the enemy was confusedly beaten and dispersed, and a decisive victory won by the serbs. for cross and freedom fought the serbian women directly or indirectly, not only the queens and princesses, but all the peasant women as well, if not otherwise, then at least in giving life and education to the fighters, whom powerful england repeatedly called her worthy allies. england is also fighting for cross and freedom, not for existence, not for sea, not for wealth, but for cross and freedom, for the christian cross and for the freedom of the smaller nations. it means in other words: for god's cause. for who created the small nations if not he that created all great and small things in this wonderful world? or who has the divine right and sad duty to exterminate, to suffocate, to enchain, the small creations of the highest if the highest wants them to exist? great britain justified her greatness by entering this war so as to protest against the violation of right, even by those who agreed to this right, and to protect the small and poor. it is easy to be physically great, but it is difficult to be morally great. great is the power which violates the right, still greater is the power which protects the right. to destroy is much easier than to build. to be great and to be proud means not to be great at all. to be great and to be modest means real greatness and belief in god. for who can be proud believing in god? or who can feel god in this universe and still say, i am great? our modesty is only our confession that there is a god. since we see both ends of our life--birth and death--so near us, we must be humiliated. yet who can see any end of god, either in the past or in the future? where are all the greatest empires of the past? all is dust under the feet of the eternal. whither are we all going, great or small? to be dust under his feet. from this dust will survive only the small portion of god's spirit that dwells in this dust. all our thoughts and feelings, and deeds and strivings, and struggles and passions, which are directed towards dust will die together with our bodily dust. only that portion of our being which is directed towards god will survive, will continue to live in the presence of god, will see god. for god only can see god. fighting for belgium, for serbia and montenegro, for armenia, poland and bohemia, for all the poor and oppressed--great britain is fighting for god's cause. for whose cause indeed is belgium's and serbia's, if not god's cause? i wonder who would protect all the oppressed in the world if not this country, in which god's word is more taught and learned than in any other, and which is endowed with all good gifts that god can give to mortals? yet fighting for god's cause, one fights best for one's own. yes, we fight always best for our own cause when we have it least in sight. england entered this war not after a long calculation; she entered the war spontaneously and only afterwards she put the question to herself: why did i enter this war? now england is conscious why she entered the war. she knows now that somebody else pushed her into this avar, and that she is fighting for somebody else's cause. this somebody else is--god. the sons of great britain going to the east to fight are going the same pathway as their ancestors went in the time of the crusaders. the same way, the same aim: to save the honour of the cross and to fight for freedom! it is the pathway of supreme suffering, but also the only pathway of real glory and merit. any other way for england's greatness was impossible. england had to choose either the way of pettiness or of greatness. she chose the second. god bless england! we pray to thee, our father, in order not to change thy will but ours. thy will be done! if serbia is an impediment to human civilisation and an evil, as our german brothers think, father, make of serbia a salt lake before they make of her a cemetery. yet thy will be done and not ours. we are thine in our righteousness and in our sins. what is, indeed, the whole of our planet? a small grain of dust. what are we, then, on this small grain of dust? we, men, either great or little? we, nations, rich or poor? we, the churches, either right or wrong? one word only i dare to say: the silence in thy presence shall be our name, and our prayer. even on the brightest and most peaceful day of our life, there is no true light except thee. how much more we need thy light in the darkness of the present moment! we are a small grain of dust under thy throne, but remember, the only grain of dust which can consciously worship thee. that shall be our only glory and pride among our brothers: animals, plants, and stones. but in worshipping thee we become fellows of the stars. lord, be our everlasting sun and cast thy light on every star, now and for ever. amen. serbia at peace. _delivered for the first time at cambridge, in the new lecture rooms, the vice-chancellor of the university in the chair._ the most suitable language for tragedy is silence. serbia's tragedy needs no rhetoric, no language to describe it, to exalt it. for silence, and not rhetoric, makes tragedy greater. serbia's silence to-day is as deep as her tragedy is dark. the most silent suffering is the most vocal suffering at the same time. the most silent suffering is like a screw boring into the conscience of the makers of the suffering. such silent suffering is the severe judge of the world who makes all rich people poor, all proud humble, all pleasure bitter, all human progress abased. there is something wrong about this life. what may it be? i do not know, but suffering reminds us every day that there is something wrong with this world. suffering from surrounding nature is not the worst,--nature can be governed by us; nor the suffering from god,--god can be touched by our prayer; but the worst of all is our suffering from ourselves. thousands and thousands of serpents live in serbia. yet all the serpents throughout the serbian history, from the time of the druids on this island till the time of tennyson and kipling, effected not such a poisonous devastation of men and cattle in serbia as lately a host of invaders did, who boastfully regarded themselves to be at the summit of human civilisation. it is despairing to see what use of her power, her "kultur," her science and her riches, germany of to-day is making in serbia, among a people who for half a thousand years struggled against the turkish tyranny with the motto _for cross and freedom_, and who looked sometimes from their dark corner towards the german kaiser, the knight of many holy orders, as towards the champion and redeemer of enslaved christianity in the balkans. never suffered a nation from serpents as much as the poor nation of serbs suffers to-day from "civilised" men. don't you think indeed that there is something wrong about this life of ours? the bible showed in its first sheets that there is something very wrong with us. by the killing of his brother, cain fore-shadowed all the history of mankind. even the first man on earth was not a balanced and happy creature. all our earthly time is filled up with a passionate convulsion in a struggle for life and light. yet our confusion and unhappiness chiefly come from ourselves, and neither from nature nor from god. when will this suffering of man from man stop? we have been accustomed to speak hopefully about the twentieth century. we supposed that that century at least would show the serpents as greater enemies of men than men themselves. we see despairingly to-day that the serpents are innocent creatures in comparison with men. the tragedy of crushed and murdered serbia is a crying proof of how the serpents are comparatively innocent creatures. yet serbia is silent in her tragedy. i myself would prefer to be silent too. but i cannot, being not only an unhappy survivor of a horrible shipwreck, but above all a priest and servant of god. if our national pride bids us serbs be silent in this shipwreck, my christian honour and pride bids me cry out and protest. i am a surviving protest of my murdered country. yet i am still a transitory protest, a protest only for a moment before god the slow and the righteous begins to protest himself. my protest is in words, my words are from the air. but god's protest will be, as always, from the unquenchable fire, which burns bodies and souls. i indicate only the terrible protest which will come. why am i protesting now before you, sons and daughters of great britain? because you have been the champions of the bible in the world, i.e. the champions of justice, freedom and the brotherhood of men. because your knights have fought for the christian cross and freedom. your island has been an island of salvation for all the refugees, who as champions of liberty must escape from their own countries--among others, rousseau, voltaire and victor hugo, even the sons of a very liberal nation. your most famous generals and admirals have humiliated the greatest conqueror of the world and granted him a cottage on a small island in which to live, instead of the world empire of which he dreamed. your statesmen--i will mention only a few of them: pitt, bright, gladstone--asserted repeatedly that the domestic and foreign policy of this country should be founded on christian principles. your women are famous in the world because of the fine and humane education that they give to their children in order to make every new generation a new proof to the world of how this island is obviously worthy of its great role on our planet. your working people possess a healthy sense of both reality and idealism, and avoiding all extremes and extravagances, to which poverty necessarily leads the working class in other countries, are powerfully promoting human progress, the material as well as the moral. your nobility, far from being corrupted and degenerated by their wealth, have filled the world with astonishment from the beginning of this war by their extraordinary patriotism and willingness to sacrifice everything, including life itself, in the struggle for the honour and the unshakable ideals of their country. that is why i am protesting before you, valiant sons and daughters of great britain, the heirs of the most valuable heritage that ever a nation could call its own. serbian life in peace time is the most eloquent accusation and the mightiest protest against the crime of two great christian kaisers. these two christian kaisers conquered serbia by their iron and mercilessness, and bound serbia's throat so horribly that in serbia there is now air and light only for the conquerors and not for the conquered. breath-less and breadless, serbia cannot protest, but i can. well, i propose to describe to you to-night serbia and the serbians in peace time, in order to show you what life your smallest allies lived before the great storm came over their country. i will begin with: the serbian village. why? because the village is the very foundation of all that we possess in material, spiritual and moral good. after the turks conquered serbia, five hundred years ago, the serbian population was forced by the conquerors by degrees to abandon the towns and to retreat into the villages, and then to abandon even the villages in the plains, on the banks of the rivers, where the soil was the most fruitful, and to escape into the forests, mountains and less accessible country. the village thus became the very soil upon which has grown our democracy. that is the difference between our democracy and the west european, where the democrats movement started and developed in the towns. driven into the forests and mountains by the common enemy, despoiled of freedom and riches the upper and lower classes, the learned and the illiterate, suffered the same abasement and injustice, did the same work, ploughed and sowed, struggled against the same evil, the turkish yoke, and sang of the same hopes. under such conditions was born our democratic spirit, which served wonderfully afterwards, in the time of liberation and freedom, as a base for our democratic institutions, social, political and ecclesiastical. i said that our village is the very foundation of our material wealth. we have, so to say, no industry, but every one of our peasants has his own land. the land being fertile, our country never knew what hunger was. it was a pleasure to see the peasants in the spring ploughing their own soil; in the summer looking over the-golden harvest of their own; in the autumn contemplating the stores plenteously filled; in the winter feasting and resting in their own houses. if you should ask any of the serbian peasants: "to whom does this house belong? or this field? or this harvest?" he would unmistakably reply: "to god and to me!"--so in the mind of our peasants god is the first landlord, and the second they themselves. even during the last three years of war in serbia there was plenty of all the necessaries of life, especially of wheat and cattle, of fruits and hay, of vegetables and wood. but now--in serbia all the wealth is in the past; it exists only in the memories of the despoiled, plundered, devastated, starved and silent slaves. in the german papers there was published a private letter from a german soldier in serbia. "we are very well here. we have plenty of food and everything. much more abundantly than we had on the western front!" i am sure you understand well what this soldier meant and whence such an abundance in food supply "and everything" for the german invaders in serbia came. almost simultaneously a german army commander wrote to a man in a neutral country these words: "not only i permit you to come into serbia and help the serbs, but i pray you come at once. among the population in serbia there is the greatest misery and almost starvation _en masse._" what happened? the "civilised" subjects of kaiser william would not kill the civil people in serbia directly as the stupid turks did, but indirectly in order to save the faithless honour of "civilisation." they drove away the population--that means the old and sick men, women and children--all other serbs serving as soldiers and being in retreat; they drove the population away, took food, cattle, copper, warm clothes, carpets, covers, everything, and after this was done, allowed the people graciously to come back "to their homes and their customs," as the kaiser declared. but to come how and where? thousands died on the way back, thousands succeeded in coming back to their cold and breadless homes to die there; they are considered as the happier; and thousands fled with the serbian troops into albania and to the mediterranean islands, where they died or are still dying from hunger, but because they died in freedom and not as slaves they are considered as the happiest. we are beggars now. this is the first year in our history that we must pray to men for bread; until now we prayed only to god for daily bread, and god gave it to us abundantly. but we became beggars for bread only after the german civilisation showed itself to be a beggar, poor in moral, poor in truth and heart. now i will try to show you how the serbian village became the foundation of the serbian spirit. no universities, no schools, no libraries, no written literature and no lectures for five hundred years! imagine such a people. that is the serbian people. the only men who could write--the priests; the only library--the memory; the only education--the mother; the only university--nature; the only historians--the blind bards; the only friend and comforter--god! imagine such a people and call them--serbs. imagine the english people for half a thousand years without schools, without education, without universities, without historians, authors, friends and comforters! i am sure it is difficult for you to imagine your country even without shakespeare, and without oxford and cambridge scholarships and the british museum, not to mention other things. it may be of great interest to a psychologist as well as to a historian to know what kind of mental activity a people shows who are deprived of all that we to-day consider as an indispensable need of daily life. what may such a people be doing? well, when by such a people are meant the eskimos, it is clear: they hunt, eat, talk and sleep. but when by such a people is meant a people of the european, aryan race--what then? the serbs are a european, aryan race. what did they do? three things--they thought, sang and hoped. they _thought_. they thought about heaven and earth, about life and death, and man and animal, and about everything that affects human nature. they made comparisons and asked for the reason and purpose of everything. they drew their conclusions and expressed the results of their long observations. they thought a very, very long time before they uttered a short sentence. these sentences lived in the oral traditions, and have been transferred from one generation to another. these sentences are very like the proverbs in the bible, very like la rochefoucauld or extracts and quotations from famous works. the serbian sentences are striking. i have read a good deal by the great writers of europe, but very often a popular serbian saying strikes me more forcibly than a famous book. here is just one saying: god is on the height, satan is in the depth, man is in the middle. if god will, he can be above, below and in the middle. if satan will, he can be below and in the middle. if man will, he can be like god everywhere, in the middle, or above or below. another: a bird envied the serpent; thou knowest earth very well. the serpent envied the bird: thou knowest heaven very well. and both envied man: thou knowest heaven and earth. man replied: "my knowledge and my ignorance make me equally unhappy." another: either snow or ice, or steam or fluid, water is always water. either poor or rich, or ignorant or learned, man is always man. another: only a half-good man can be disappointed in this world. but a wholly good man never is disappointed because he never expects a reward for his good actions. the serbian people _sang_ also. sitting around the fire in the long winter nights, the serbian peasants sang their glorious past, their dark present and their hopes for the future. there is a serbian instrument called the _gusle_, more interesting than the greek lyre, because more appropriate for the epic songs. it looks also like the indian instrument _tamboura_. well, as the ancient greek bards sang their achilles, using the lyre, and as the ancient indian singers sang their krishna with the help of the tamboura, so the serbian epic singers accompanied with the gusle their songs on their hero of old, marko. marko was a historic person, a king's son. he was the never-weary champion of right and justice, the protector of the poor and oppressed, a believer in the victorious good, a man who left an impression on the coming generations like a lightning flash in the dark clouds. in every village house in serbia there is a gusle, and almost in every family a good singer with the gusle. the blind bards sang on the occasion of the festival or a meeting. the great pitt, when once asked from whom he learned the english history so well, replied: "from shakespeare." to the same question we serbs can reply: "from our national poetry." it is very rare for a people in the mass to know their past as well as the serbs know their own. the serbs regard their history not so much as a dry science, but rather as an art, a drama, which must be told in a solemn language. they knew their history, and therefore they sang it; they sang it, and therefore they knew it better and better. the serbian men sang, but not only the men, the women sang as well. when the harvest was being gathered during july and august, the women and girls sang in the fields or under the fruit trees. in our country we have the sun abundantly, and the outdoor singing responds fully to the luxuriance of light. what shall i say then about our women's singing in the autumn in the dry and soft moonlight? it is the time of spinning on the distaff. the tired men go to bed, but the women sit down in a circle in the houseyard in the open place. they chat and they sing without stopping their spinning. they sing two and two, in duet, but so that a new duet is begun when the other finishes. this duet singing is not only in one family, but in many at the same time, in different parts of the village. moonlight--we have wonderful clear and white moonlight in serbia--silence, singing from every side, from every house, from girls, nightingales and other birds. the whole of the village is the stage, hundreds of singers, moonlight and open starry space--i am sure you would be much more fascinated by such a serbian rustic opera than by many modern operas on a stage in london. and now--there rushed into serbia: the kaiser, who does not sing, and our singing stopped. under the turks the serbian people sang. you can find in the british museum ten big volumes of the serbian national poetry which was composed during the time of the turkish rule in serbia. this rule was very hard and very dark indeed, but still we considered ourselves as the champions of the cross against the crescent, and we imagined that we should be the bulwark of christian europe, i.e. of central europe in the first place. therefore we endured the struggle with the turks, singing and hoping. and now--the two _christian_ kaisers, with a fox from sofia, have crushed serbia more completely than she ever was crushed by the turks. "come back to your homes and your customs," so the kaiser william invited the serbian refugees. "to your customs!" but, oh _illustrissime caesar,_ we could reply, our first and best custom is to sing. tell us, how we could sing now? you know, oh kaiser, because you preached the bible also, you must know the biblical complaints of the israel of old: "by the rivers of babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered zion. we hung our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. for there they that carried us away captive required of us a song, saying, sing us one of the songs of zion? how shall we sing the lord's song in a strange land?" you are now playing a real babylonian role towards us serbs, i.e. towards a people who fought for the cross, who sang freedom and who were crucified for justice. you are not a better man than any peasant from the serbian villages. do you want a proof? the serbian peasant can sing, and you cannot. you cannot sing, not because of your diseased throat, but because of your evil conscience. you stopped the singing in a country of songs, oh ill majesty! how could we now sing our songs while our homes are transformed into empty caves? how could we sing, seeing our bread in strangers' hands and cold stones in ours? how could we sing now, when all our past protests against you and all our dead are disturbed in their graves? you covered our country with sins and crimes, and it is not our custom to sing of sins and crimes, but of virtues. when will you show us your virtues? you have shown us until now only your iron and fire, your brutality and brutality, and again brutality and brutality,--and, did i say?--iron and fire. that is the essence of your religion and science, of your soul and glory. we will despise all that you brought into our country. let us be silent, sire, and you may continue to show your mephistophelean civilisation, and after you have crushed all those who are weaker and smaller than you, sire, open your lips and preach upon their ruin to your admirers: _cantate domino!_ but we will not sing after our custom of old in your presence. we prefer to be silent and to wait for god's judgment. the hidden moral treasures of the serbian people are now shining, as always, throughout all the times of darkness and suffering. you will remember from the beginning of the war all the declarations of the serbian government about the serbian loyalty to the end. some among you might have thought: such declarations are dictated by political reasons. no, such declarations have been only a poor expression of what we all in serbia thought and felt. loyalty to friends, devotion to our pledged word, fidelity to the signed and unsigned treaties were always considered in serbia as sacred duties in the conscience of the people. our morale is not something that was learned in the schools--do not forget we had no schools for centuries--but rather an inherited treasure which every man was obliged to keep in great brilliancy. it is not a morale supported by learning, sophisms and quotations, it is an elementary power which is not a possession, but which has possession of everybody. our prime minister uttered the other day these words: "better to die in beauty than to live in shame!" fifteen hundred years ago similar words were uttered on this island of yours by a knight of beowulf's escort: "death is better than a life of shame." every child in serbia thinks the same as our prime minister about the value of life and death. "better to die than" to live so and so, or than to do this or that--hundreds of the serbian proverbs begin with those words. in proverbs is expressed our moral wisdom, in proverbs and poetry. yet our proverbs are poetry as well. the morale is regarded not so much as a teaching, rather as poetry, like history. history and morality are things which shall be sung, history and morality are such dignified topics that they must be expressed in a dignified, solemn language. poetry is the very essence of things. it is the most earnest thing in the world. that is our opinion. the serbs read the bible very little, although they had the bible in their own language and used it in divine service before you used it in the church of your own. the bible was listened to in the church, but poetry at home. as shakespeare can be called your second bible, so, and still more, our national poetry for us has been indeed a second bible. our poetry has been our history, our moral, our beauty, our hopes, our education, our encouragement--our bible. by our poetry, as by the bible, the morale is not only taught but inspired. what is this morale, taught by serbian poetry and proverbs, when uttered in a dry form? "dear god, we thank thee for all," that is the usual beginning of every poem. love? love is better than justice. justice? justice is better than injustice. injustice? it must be punished. suffering? it must be relieved. patience? that is the great virtue of the sufferers. honour? better to die than to give up honour. dishonour? it means as much as death. mercifulness? it shines like the sun over the world. a beggar? he puts your heart to the test. death? god is behind death and therefore death is no evil. prayer? it shall be used always, but it never helps unless we do our best. humility? it is always rewarded by love. fearlessness? it is commended very strongly. cowardice? it is repudiated and despised to the utmost. obedience? youth must be obedient and respectful towards old people. chastity? better to burn down a church than to take or to give away chastity. protection of the weak? marko protected weak people and animals. that is a great merit. chivalry? always; towards friends and enemies. work? without work prayer does not help. freedom? man is man only in living in freedom and in fighting for freedom. wealth? it is no virtue, and if it does not support virtue, it is a vice. god? he is the lord of the world and thy steady companion. such morals have been preached, yea, sung by our ancestors, and by ourselves. certainly we have sinned often against these morals, but in our sins and in our virtues they have been always regarded as a standard of all that is good and beautiful. sinning serbia. serbia sinned and repented her sins, and again sinned. put yourselves, gentlemen, in the chair of a judge, and i will confess to you all the sins of serbia. serbia sinned and suffered. her sins have been her hell, her sufferings--her purgatory. i don't pray you to forgive serbia, but only to compare justly her sins with her sufferings. the serbs sinned against all the ten commandments, it is true, but still regarded the ten commandments as the standard which is better than a nation's doings. although the people said beautifully: "a grain of truth is better than a ton of lies," still the lie, like a parasite, had its nest in serbia as elsewhere. although the people said: "it is better to be blind with justice than to have eyes with injustice," still injustice had its seed, its growth and fruits among the same people. although cain's sin has been abhorred by the conscience of the serbs, still this sin of taking the life of a brother has defiled the very soil of serbia, which has been so much sanctified by the sufferings and unselfish sacrifices of her people. you will not find certainly in serbia the refined vices which are practised in the shadow of great civilisations, but you will find quite enough great and small sins, which the serbian conscience does not justify any more than yours. the serbian and the bulgarian spirit. besides, i will confess to you one great sin of the serbian people. it is an exaggerated love for independence. it is a virtue as every honest love is a virtue, but it becomes a sin if exaggerated. it is a brilliant quality like the sunshine in the time of fighting against the common enemy, but it is a sin in peace time when organised efforts for the social welfare are required. this spirit of independence, the independence from enemies as well as from friends, has considerably disturbed our social life and progress-during the last century. now, by this greatest of our sins and greatest of our virtues as well, we serbs differed chiefly from our neighbours. the people in great britain have been accustomed to look towards the balkans as towards a country with one and the same spirit. this is a great mistake. there are chiefly two spirits: the serbian and the bulgarian, _i.e._ the spirit of independence and the spirit of slavery. the serbian spirit resisted until the end stubbornly and tenaciously against the turks conquering the balkans five centuries ago. the bulgarian spirit surrendered without any resistance. "the kral of bulgaria did not wait to be conquered, but humbly begged for mercy"; so writes an english historian.[3] the rebellious spirit of the serbs arose first in the balkan darkness a hundred years ago against the tyranny and the despotic wickedness of the turkish rulers, and liberated the serbian fatherland. the bulgarian spirit waited until strangers came and liberated the bulgarian country. those strangers have been: russians, serbians, roumanians and mr. gladstone. the bulgarian spirit has been since 1878 under the rule of the german kings, as slavishly subordinate as it was for five hundred years under the rule of the turkish viziers and pashas. it was pure ignorance which made some people exclaim some months ago: "it is king ferdinand's war against serbia and the allies, and not the bulgarian people's. the bulgars will never fight against the russians, their liberators." yet the fact is and will remain: the bulgarian people have only one thought, i.e. the thought of their ruler, be it ferdinand or somebody else, and they have only one will, i.e. the will of their ruler. they will fight against the russians as fiercely as they fought against the turks yesterday, and against the french and british to-day, if it is only the plan and will of their ruler. this slavish spirit, which is a disgrace to a nation in the most tragic and decisive events of the world's history, makes the bulgarian people in peace very happy and fit for peaceful organised work, when obedience and subordination are required. this slavish spirit is the greatest virtue and the greatest sin of the bulgarian nation. yet, i am speaking of our own sins, and i confess that our greatest sin has been the too greatly developed love of personal independence. it is the truest spirit of the serbs. from this spirit originated all our fortunes and all our misfortunes. from the point of view of this spirit consider, please, all our sins in modern times: the killing of our kings, the internal disturbances, and all the irregularity in the political and social life of our country, and you will understand us better; and if you understand us better, i am sure you will forgive us more easily. serbia in prayer. serbia has sinned, serbia has prayed. if you put on one side of the scales serbia's sins and on the other serbia's sufferings and prayers, i am sure the latter will send the balance down. again i must come back to the serbian village. prayer is there considered not only as an epilogue to a sin but as a daily necessity. the first duty after one's ablution in the morning is prayer. that is a sanctified custom. many songs on our national hero, marko, begin as follows: "marko got up early in the morning, washed his face and prayed to god." and all the songs begin, i repeat it, with the verse: "dear god, we are thankful to thee for all." but not only the songs begin with prayer, every work and every pleasure begins with prayer as well, every day and every night, every feast, every rest and every journey. this custom has been partly broken and abandoned only in the towns under the influence of the central european materialistic civilisation. in the villages unbelief is unknown. in our green fields, under our dark-blue heaven, in our little white houses and wooden cottages, on the banks of our murmuring brooks and magnificent rivers, atheism is unknown. every family in a house is regarded as a little religious community. the head of the family presides over this community and prays with it. when i tell you that, i tell you my personal experience. i was born in a village, in a family of forty-five members. we prayed together every saturday, after the weekly work was over. in the evening my grandfather, the head of the family, called us to prayer. we had no chapel in the house. in bad weather we prayed in the house, in fine weather out of doors, in the yard. the starry heaven served as our temple, the moon as our guardian, the silent breath of the surrounding nature as our inspiration. my grandfather took a chalice with fire and incense, and sprinkled every one of us. then he came forward, stood before us and bowed deeply, and his example was followed by us all. then began a silent prayer, interrupted only here and there by a sighing or by some whispering voice. we crossed ourselves and prayed, looking to the earth and looking to the stars. the prayer ended again with deep bowing and with a loud amen. when i recall this prayer in my memory, i feel more piety, more humility and more comfort than i ever felt in any of the big cathedrals in either hemisphere where i have had the opportunity of praying. this prayer of the serbian peasants, beautiful in its simplicity and touching in its sincerity, survived generation after generation, and has been victorious over all crimes that the strangers of the asiatic or of the european faith have committed on us. our tenacious and incessant prayer is an evident sign of our tenacious and unbroken hope. we pray because we hope; we hope still more after we have prayed. everything can be disturbed in serbia except prayer. the invasion of the kaiser's troops in serbia disturbed and perturbed everything in serbia, but the prayer of the serbian people still continues. enslaved in serbia, dispersed as the refugees are all over the world, we pray to the god of justice, now as always. our prayer means our hope. the kaiser's subjects and the bulgarian slaves can kill everything in serbia--and the purpose of their coming into serbia is killing--but they never can kill our hope. martyred serbia, your loyal ally, oh noble sons and daughters of great britain, is now silent and powerless. enemies and friends can now laugh her to scorn. she will remain silent. i am sure you will respect this silence of the crucified. i am sure everyone of you will do his best to redeem serbia. well, serbia can now give, after all, her cause to god and can wait the end hopefully. she can now say to the kaiser, her conqueror and lord, the words of one of your great poets: "i have lost, you have won this hazard yet perchance my loss may shine yet goodlier than your gain when time and god give judgement." a c swinburne (_faliero_). serbia in arms. delivered before the english soldiers. i propose to-night, gentlemen, to describe to you serbia, my native country, my dream of the past, my dream of the future, and one of your allies, loyal and faithful in life and death. i will try, of course, to give you only some glances at and slight insight into what serbia has represented with her soul, her efforts, ideals and hopes. the time is short, yea, our time to-day is more empty than the events which surprise us every day, every night, and overwhelm us like an avalanche of snow and ice from the alps. how poor and insufficient is our human language to-day, even the language of the most eloquent mortals from this island like burke, macaulay and carlyle, to describe the events which our eyes are seeing and our ears listening to at the present moment! do not expect from me an equivalent description of serbia, which has been one of the greatest factors in this world-war during many months, and which has disturbed your hearts for so long and attracted thousands of your sons and friends over the seas, to take the sword from serbia's mangled hands and continue the struggle for the same cause for which she fought until death. all that i can tell you consists in some poor instances and remembrances which will be sufficient to show you that serbia has been worthy to live and to be your ally, and consequently that she is worthy of your great sympathy with her and of your helping her resurrection. serbia has been at war since 1912. in autumn 1912 king peter of serbia consecrated his church of white marble, built in topola, the birthplace of his grandfather, karageorge, the protagonist of balkan liberation. on the same hill, on which karageorge took the resolution to begin one of the greatest things that ever happened on the troublesome balkan soil, on the hill of oplenaz, karageorge's grandson, king peter, erected a beautiful church and then declared war on turkey. it was one of many wars that we had with turkey, one of many--known and unknown to you--during five hundred years. we have had our old accounts with the turks. we despised them as the slaves will despise their lords, and they despised us as the lords will despise their slaves. yet we respected their virtues, and they recognised some of ours. with the sword they conquered our country, and we knew that only with the sword we could reconquer it from them. our christian drama with the turks in the balkans began with blood, and we all believed it must finish with blood. in our bloody conflict with the turks we, the christians, lost three kings--one of them was king constantine of byzantium, and two were the serbian kings, vukashin and lazare--during a period of seventeen years. as well as serbia and greece, roumania also offered great resistance to the turks. it is a historic fact, that after the decisive balkan battle on the field of kossovo, the roumanians also fought against the turks. in the battle of rovina between the turks and roumanians, our epic serbian hero, marko kralevich, the last king of macedonia, called marko of prilep, also participated, and was killed there. he was the third serbian king killed in the defence of christian freedom in the balkans. that was the time when the albanians, too, showed their virtues more than ever before. under skenderbeg, the prince from croya, they resisted the mussulmans very bravely. but they fell into slavery in the same way as serbia, greece, roumania and croatia. the only country in the balkans which surrendered without any resistance was bulgaria. the only country in the balkans that never was conquered by the turks was montenegro. poor montenegro, a skeleton of rocky mountains, has shown during five hundred years more heroic beauty and idealistic enthusiasm than many great empires in asiatic and european history, which fought their selfish battles for power and comfort, and have been respected and adored merely because of their numbers and dimensions. now, in the year of our lord, 1912, two serbian kingdoms, serbia and montenegro, with two other christian kingdoms, greece and bulgaria, declared war on the turks. the roumanians were with their sympathies on the side of the christian allies. the albanians, degenerate and disorganised, very different from skenderbeg's contemporaries, standing now under the influence of austria, were pro-turks and against the christian warriors. shall i remind you of the results? i suppose the surprising fact is fresh in your memories even now that only two months after the balkan war had been declared the delegates of the belligerents for peace stayed in hyde park hotel in london. turkey lost and the christians won. the serbian troops crossed the frontier and fighting proceeded in three different directions, towards skoplje and prilep, towards adrianople and towards scutari. a foreigner never can realise what a serbian soldier thought and felt at that time. skoplje had been the centre of our mediaeval kingdom; in prilep lived and ruled king marko, our national hero; under the walls of. adrianople king vukashin, marko's father, was killed resisting the turkish invasion; scutari was the last free dominion of the serbian kings balshic before universal darkness covered the whole of the balkans, except montenegro. in every direction the serbian soldiers faced their own history. their past glory has been revived; their heroes of old excited their imagination; many saw them in visions or in dreams, all imitated them in heroic deeds and in sufferings. here succumbed the saint king lazare! exclaimed our soldier in the field of kossovo. here fell the duke milosh after he killed the turkish sultan murad! here lived marko of prilep! from this fortress he protected the remnants of the serbian people and their past glory after the fatal battle of kossovo! here on the stones the hoofs of shiraz, marko's cherished horse, are to be seen. there are churches built by king urosh, or stephen, or milutin, or dushan, or lazare! here on the mariza river fell vukashin with sixty thousand of the most splendid serbian warriors defending the freedom of the balkans. there on scutari stand lofty walls constructed by the same king vukashin. this is the way by which the byzantine princesses had come to be the wives of our kings or dukes. there is the town where king dushan, in allegiance with kantakusen and the greeks, fought against the first turkish invaders. on this lake of ochrida was a beautiful church with a serbian archbishopric. that is the mountain where the _villas_ (fairies) lived and from which they flew down to help our heroes or to preserve the serbian down-trodden rights. in this town king nemanja met the crusaders from the west proceeding to the east and gave them hospitality. in that town our greatest king proclaimed the famous codex of laws, _zakonik_, which is comparable with the best codexes of that kind. here are the tombs of our patriarchs, who led and protected the nation during centuries of oppression and slavery. there are the towers built from the skeletons of the serbian leaders, who were slaughtered for their ideals of freedom; and there again is the spot where were hanged several _voivodas_ and _bishops_. bones upon bones, blood upon blood, sin upon sin, heroism upon heroism! kossovo, scutari, kumanovo, skoplje, prilep, bitolj, adrianople--all these names were well known by every serbian soldier. in their childhood and boyhood they sang these very names, they sang them and knew the historical events and heroes connected with them. and so they came now not as guests and strangers, but they returned home after a long absence. it seems to every one of them like a dream: the land which has been for generations and generations the topic of poetry now stood before the serbian warriors as a reality. the serbian brothers from austria-hungary came to macedonia, kissed the sacred soil, and each one took a handful of the sacred dust from the tombs of our kings and heroes of old. two months after the outbreak of war king peter returned to topola and prayed gratefully in his white church to god and to saint george. this democratic king, who has been elected by the serbian parliament (_skupshtina_), thanked god that he with his people had finished the work of liberation from the turkish yoke, which work was started by karageorge, his grandfather, who also was elected by the people to be their leader. in summer 1913. the war with the turks was a short one. yet the war with the bulgars was still shorter. the bulgars attacked us in a dark night. austria suggested such an attack, and this quite suited the bulgarian spirit. it is a slavish spirit, full of slavish ambitions and slavish abject methods. when i tell you that, believe me, i tell it neither as a chauvinist nor even as a serbian patriot, but as a man who has studied very carefully the history and psychology of the balkan peoples. the bulgarian attack against the serbian army was resisted not only by the serbs, as the bulgars hoped, but by the greeks and roumanians as well. i visited the battlefield afterwards. i have been in stip, a town on the bregalniza river, where the attack began. i saw the tree on the bank of the river, under which the serbian and bulgarian officers rested together the very day before the treacherous night. the bulgarians smiled and chatted with their serbian colleagues; they spoke about the everlasting brotherhood between the serbian and bulgarian nations; they ate and drank from the same plates and glasses with the serbs, their allies, while the order of the night attack lay in their pockets. it happened nineteen hundred years after a treacherous apostle ate and drank in the same manner with his master. the unnatural ambitions of the bulgars were repudiated by all the balkan nations. therefore the bulgars saw one day against them, not one enemy as they expected, but three. serbs, greeks and roumanians marched together towards sofia. the bulgars asked for peace. in the conference of bucharest, as you remember, the new frontiers of the balkan states were marked. serbia came out from this war victorious, it is true, but with a broken heart, for she had been forced to fight against her ally of yesterday--with a broken heart, with many thousands of her best sons killed and crippled, and with still many more swept away by cholera, which was raging in the summer of 1913. the home of the serbian soul is macedonia. it must have been once a charming country worthy of the great men like philip and alexander, worthy of saint paul's mission to it, worthy of byzantium's effort to save it from the slavs, worthy of all the turkish sacrifices to conquer it, worthy of several serbian kings who gave their lives defending it. it was a rich and beautiful spot on this earth. it was the centre of the serbian mediaeval state and power, the very heart of the serbian glory from the time when the serbs became christians till the tragedy of kossovo, and after this tragedy till the death of king marko of prilep in the beginning of the fifteenth century. even during the time of slavery under the turks, macedonia was the source of all the spiritual and moral inspirations and supports of the enslaved nation. it happened only accidentally that the northern part of serbia, was liberated a hundred years ago while macedonia remained still in chains. in the north, in the dense forests and the mountains around belgrade and kraguievaz, the guerilla war started a great insurrection which succeeded. this guerilla war meant a gradual destruction of the turkish dominions in the whole northern part: in shumadija, bosnia, croatia and dalmatia. but i say the guerilla war in shumadija, around belgrade and kraguievaz, was a success. karageorge liberated a part of the serbian country in the north, and this part was finally recognised by the great powers of europe and called _serbia_. but neither karageorge nor anybody in serbia has forgotten macedonia. macedonia was not only a part of our history, but it has become a part of our soul. the principal and the greater part of our national poetry, which means our shakespeare and which meant our bible, describes serbian macedonia, her heroes, her historic events, her struggle with the turks, her slavery, and her customs and hopes. serbian children know the names of the towns like skoplje, prilep, ochrida, and the heroes' names, urosh, stephen, milutin, dushan, marko and ugljesha, before they learn in the school to write these names. our national poetry is our national education, our education is our soul. macedonia represents a great part of our poetry, which means that she forms a great part of our soul. to say macedonia does not belong to serbia means the same as to say, the serbian soul does not belong to the serbians. could you imagine england without stratford, the birthplace of shakespeare? i don't think you could. so we cannot imagine a serbia without prilep, the source, yea, the birthplace of our national poetry. every people must have some sacred soil in their country, a part more sacred than other parts, which binds them more to their fatherland, which excites their enthusiasm, and which obliges them to defend and to die for it. i was born in northern serbia, in a town which has been very important in our modern history. but i must tell you that it was not valve, my birthplace, which inspired me to be a serb in soul, but rather prilep, skoplje and ochrida, the places where our spirit and our virtues of old flourished, together with kossovo, where our national body was destroyed. valevo has been very little mentioned in our national poetry, valevo and even belgrade, in comparison with macedonia. northern serbia has been in our middle ages more a part of our body than of our soul. but macedonia.... a bulgarian diplomat formerly in rome once ironically told a serbian sculptor in a discussion about macedonia: 'we bulgars know that king marko of prilep is a serbian. well, give us prilep, that is what we want, and keep king marko for yourselves!' that is the true bulgarian spirit. the greeks have understood us better. they have many brothers of their own in monastir and ochrida, and still they recognised the serbian rights in the central and northern parts of macedonia, claiming for themselves only the southern part, and giving to the bulgars the eastern part of it. yet they could claim macedonia not with less rights than the bulgars did. why? because macedonia never was the centre of a greek empire, as it never was the centre of a bulgarian empire. it was a provincial country of the old byzantine empire. it was a country temporarily conquered by the bulgars, the centre of the bulgarian kingdom being tirnovo and its neighbourhood. but it was quite a centre of all the best things that we serbs created and possessed in our past. our national soul cannot live without this part of our national body. i remember a conversation in nish between a french sailor and a serbian writer. the french sailor said: "but you will perish if you do not give macedonia to the bulgars?" the serbian writer replied quietly: "let us perish for the sake of our soul!" an english gentleman asked me the other day: "why have you been obstinate in not yielding macedonia to the bulgars, while we even are ready to yield to the greeks, offering them cyprus?" "yes," i said, "we can well appreciate your sacrifice, but still prilep for us is rather what stratford--and not cyprus--is for you. and even i, not being an englishman, could never agree that you should offer shakespeare's birthplace to anybody in the world." perhaps the bulgars would not have attacked us in this war if we had given macedonia to them, although it is not certain, because the frontiers of their ambitions are in constantinople, salonica and on the adriatic. still serbia could not barter her soul like faust with mephistopheles. five hundred years ago the serbs and greeks defended macedonia from the turkish invasion. in 1912 it was serbia with greece again who liberated macedonia from the turkish yoke. bulgaria never defended macedonia from the turks. her first fighting for macedonia was in 1913 against serbs, greeks and roumanians. and serbia sacrificed not only many things and many lives for macedonia, but twice even her independence--once five hundred years ago, and for the second time at the present moment. _yes, serbia is now killed because of macedonia._ indeed, all serbia's fighting and suffering have been because of macedonia. she fought against the turks because of macedonia. she fought against the bulgars because of macedonia. and she now is losing her independence because of macedonia. because she could not give macedonia, which means her glory, her history, her poetry, her soul, she is now trodden down and killed. serbia could not live without macedonia. serbia did what she could--she died for macedonia. and if one day, god willing, from this blessed island should sound the trumpet for the resurrection for all the dead, killed by the german sword, i hope serbia will rise from her grave together with macedonia, as one body and one soul. serbia and the world-war. in three years serbia got three decisive victories which attracted attention to her in both hemispheres. she got a decisive victory at kumanovo, against the turks, in 1912. she got the second decisive victory on the bregalniza, against the bulgars, in 1913. she got a third decisive victory at rudnik, against the austrians and magyars, in 1914. but finally she perished, in 1915, under the blow of the allied turks, bulgars, austrians and magyars with their common lord and leader against serbia, the germans. why? "because she caused this world-war. that is a just punishment which she well deserves," so say the germans and their dupes. and saying so, they think of the assassination in sarajevo. a serbian boy killed the crown prince of austria. therefore austria pretended to think that serbia must lose her independence. to punish serbia for the crime in sarajevo, austria sent the famous ultimatum to serbia in the summer of 1914, asking nothing less than what shylock asked from antonio--his life. to punish serbia, germany made an alliance with the bulgars, and sent her troops and her iron--the best product of their culture--to destroy the serbian state, to devastate the serbian country, and to take more than a million of human lives for the life of the austrian crown prince. and this has been done with an unprecedented perfection. and this destructive deed has been praised with eloquent words in all the parliaments, churches, schools and papers all over central europe. we could reply to this german accusation: "did not your greatest national poet, schiller, glorify william tell, who killed gesler, the austrian tyrannous ruler in switzerland? why do you, who adore schiller, and who praise william tell's deed, blame the serbian boy, princip, who did the same thing in killing franz ferdinand, the tyrant of bosnia, his fatherland? and after all, shall a whole nation, which was as surprised by the affair in sarajevo as anyone in the world, be crushed because of the crime of one man? is that the principle of frederick the great, or leasing, or kant and schiller?" the magyars said through their leading men: "serbia must be punished not because of the affair in sarajevo, but because she is making a propaganda to liberate and unite all the southern slav people, which means a great blow for the magyar interests and for the crown of saint stephen." therefore the magyars, rushing into serbia in the first invasion, in august 1914, devastated a northern district of serbia, the district of drina, in such a way that only the bulgars could compete with them. henri barby, the french publicist, has visited this district after the invasion. his description of the magyar atrocities and the original pictures taken on the spot of the crimes committed make one ashamed to be the contemporary of such a nation. we could reply to the magyar accusations: not so much is it that serbia has been making a propaganda to liberate her brothers from your yoke, as that they themselves have made this propaganda. before the crown prince was killed in sarajevo there were several outbursts in agram on the bans of croatia, who were magyar agents and tyrants just as gesler was in switzerland many hundred years ago. all the outbursts and all the tragi-comic high trials in croatia, bosnia and dalmatia, all the successes of the hapsburg monarchy in the south and all the protests prove two things: first, that the southern slavs, serbia's brothers, have suffered and have been abased very much by the magyar's brutal rule, and; second, that they have grown to be free and to live independently from a nation which showed itself very inferior in many respects to the nation ruled by it. the bulgars even mocked the serbs for allying themselves with the "degenerate" french, with the "faithless traders," the english, and with the "barbarians," the russians. they mocked us that we have not been "real" politicians, that we have been stupid and could not foresee the german victory. they accused us even in their declaration of war of being "the felons" who caused the "world's conflagration." and they regarded as their mission to rise "in the name of civilisation" to punish "a criminal nation." we serbs have nothing to reply to this bulgar mockery, since they distinctly claimed that they are not slavs but mongols; since they condemned the english, french and russian civilisations, and declared themselves to be the champions of the true civilisation. i will tell you only how they fulfilled their "mission" in defending the human civilisation from the serbs. i will not speak myself, but i will repeat what a well-known english gentleman reported from salonica: "about five o'clock in the afternoon, while we still waited for orders where to take our guns, we saw coming out of the town towards us a long, straggling procession of serbian soldier prisoners, about 300, surrounded by a strong escort of infantry. they were of all ages, some young boys of 15, some old men, bowed of back, with grey in their beards, hungry-looking, ragged, bearing the marks of their long fight in the pass. they shambled along, evidently without any idea as to what their fate was to be, till they came close to where this newly-dug pit lay open. there the command to halt was given, and they stood or sat, surrounded by their guards, for about an hour. "at the end of that time another body of men could be seen coming out of the town. they were bulgarian cavalry, about eighty of them, with a captain in command. at a deliberate walk they came on towards the throng of prisoners and guards at the pit-side. when they were still several hundred yards away, a young serbian soldier evidently grasped what was preparing. making a sudden dart, he sprang through the cordon of guards, and was off, running at a surprising speed. the guards shouted, but their rifles, though with bayonets fixed, were not loaded, and it looked for the moment as if he might get clear away. then the captain of the cavalry troop caught sight of him, turned round in the saddle, and shouted an order to his men. half a dozen spurred their horses, and left the ranks at a gallop. it was a short chase. hearing the thud of the horses' hoofs behind him, the young serbian turned his head for an instant, then ran on faster than before. the galloping cavalry were soon close up with him. as the first man, with a shout, raised his sword, the fugitive doubled like a hare, and was away at right angles. two more horsemen were close behind, though. the first rode him down; the second leaned out of his saddle and pierced him through, as he scrambled to regain his feet. by this time the guards with the rest of the serbians had loaded their rifles, and stood round them in a ring, with levelled bayonets, while, huddled together, their prisoners embraced each other or sank in apathy to the ground. "the cavalry captain rode up to the miserable throng. 'each man will bind the eyes of his neighbour,' he shouted in serbian. they did so. it took a long time, and was a pitiable sight. some young boys were crying. many of the men shouted defiance at the guards, who looked expectantly on, and at the cavalry, whose swords were drawn ready for the butchery. they blindfolded each other with strips torn from their waistcloths, or whatever else they had. 'now kneel down,' came the harsh order, and one by one the victims crouched on the ground. the captain turned again to his troopers. 'start work,' was the order he gave. the infantry guards, still keeping a circle to drive back any who might try to flee, drew off a little to give more room, and passing through the intervals of their line, the bulgar cavalry rode in among the kneeling throng of prisoners at a canter. with yells of cruel delight they pushed to and fro, slashing and thrusting at the unarmed victims. some of the serbians tried to seize the dripping sabre blades in their hands. an arm slashed off at the shoulder would fall from their bodies. others, tearing off the bandages that blindfolded them, attempted to unhorse their executioners, gripping them by the boot to throw them out of the saddle. but even the 300, though brave, could do nothing against eighty armed men. "i could see the living trying to save themselves, crawling under the little heaps of dead. others rushed towards the line of infantry, surrounding them, as if to break through to safety, but the foot soldiers, intoxicated by the sight of the deliberate bloodshed going on before their eyes, ran to meet them with their bayonets, and thrust them through and through again with savage cries. 'we are doing this in charity,' shouted some of the bulgarians. 'we have no bread to feed you, so if we spared you it would be to die of hunger.' the massacre went on for half an hour. at the end of that time there was little left to kill, and the troopers were tired of cutting and thrusting. a few of them dismounted, and, sword in hand, walked here and there among the bleeding groups of dead, pricking them to see if any still lived. some, though badly wounded, were still alive, but the bulgarian captain did not give time for them all to be finished off, and at his orders the whole pile of murdered prisoners, whether breathing or extinct, were pushed by the infantry into the grave dug earlier in the afternoon, and earth shovelled at once on top of them." [4] "england betrayed the white race!" so exclaimed the other day herr dernburg, the former german minister for the colonies. why? because england mobilised all the races, including the black and yellow, negroes, indians, maoris and japanese, against the germans. herr dernburg thinks that england has very much damaged european civilisation by so doing. that is a very curious conception of the present world situation. i could reply to herr dernburg's objection: first, the history of mankind does not report that the negroes enslaved anybody and kept him enslaved through a bloody regime five hundred years long as the turks, the german allies, did with the balkan christians. second, i never have been told that the japanese are more barbarous people than the magyars. third, i doubt very strongly that there is any madman in the world who will even try to make a comparison between the noble soul of india and a blood-thirsty subject of ferdinand of coburg. and fourth, if kaiser william with the prussian junkers should govern europe through the superman's philosophy and krupp's industry, let us hurry to open the door of europe as soon as possible for the chinese and japanese, for indians and negroes, and even for all the cannibals, the innocent doves, who need more time to eat up one fellow-man with their teeth than a trained prussian needs to slaughter ten thousand by help of his "kultur." if england is doing anything right she doubtless is doing right in mobilising all the nations, yea, all the human beings upon this planet, cultured or uncultured, civilised or uncivilised, of every colour of skin, of every size, to protest in this or another way against a military and inhuman civilisation which is worse than the most primitive barbarism of man. all the races of the world who are fighting to-day with england against germany may not understand either each other's language or customs, religion or traditions, but they all understand one thing very well, _i.e._ that they must fight together against a nation which despises all other nations and tries to conquer them, to govern them, to suppress their language, their customs, their traditions and their belief in their own worth and mission in this world. only some anecdotes. a serbian detachment from the viith regiment had been ordered one night to cross the river sava to make explorations about the positions and vigilance of the enemy. the soldiers prepared themselves to fulfil their task with silence and depression. the commander of the detachment remarked that and said: "yes, our task is very dangerous, my friends; we may die to-night, but remember that english lords on the battlefield to-night are in danger of death too for the same cause as we." on hearing that the soldiers became cheerful. * * * * * an officer said to his private: "if i should be killed in the battle, don't leave my body here, but carry it to kraguievaz, where my wife is, and bury it there." it happened indeed that the officer was killed. the private asked permission to transfer the body as he was told. the permission was not given. in the night he took the dead body on his back, and after a journey of three nights brought it to kraguievaz and buried it. therefore he was judged by the military court and sentenced to a very heavy punishment. but he showed himself very satisfied, saying: "i did what i was ordered and what i promised to do. now you can sentence me even to death; at least i will not be ashamed in the other world meeting my commander." * * * * * in the offensive against the austrians in december 1914 a serbian company found in a trench three magyar soldiers. they laid down their arms. "would you kill them, andrea?" asked the officer of one of his men to prove him. the man replied with astonishment: "marko of prilep never killed a disarmed man" * * * * * a peasant one day dug the ground behind his home. it was after the austrian army had been beaten and repulsed, and the serbian refugees returned home. the peasant was asked: "what are you digging for?" "our tricolours. i put it three weeks ago under the ground. i was afraid the austrians would spit on it, and it means the same as to spit in one's face." * * * * * in the battle on krivolak a serbian was wounded in the chest. he could scarcely breathe. he was sent to the hospital. moving slowly, he came to a spot where he saw a wounded bulgarian lying down among the dead and crying with pain, his legs being broken. the serbian stood thoughtful a minute, then he took the enemy on his back and brought him to the hospital, both very exhausted. he was asked: "why did you take such a burden, since you are a burden to yourself?" he kept silent for a moment and then replied: "you know, sire, i have been shooting with all the others. who knows, perhaps _i_ wounded him." * * * * * "why should not i believe in fate?" an under-officer once asked me. "should somebody relate to me what i am going to tell you, i could not believe it. but it happened to me. once in my boyhood i cut the branches of a tree; a gipsy woman saw me and said: "'don't injure the tree; a tree may once save your life when all your hopes are gone.'" "now, listen! i was taken prisoner by the austrians. in their retreat they let me go with their column. we went through a thick forest. i thought myself lost. all my past life came before my eyes. i remembered the gipsy woman and her advice. i looked around. in a few moments i jumped aside and found myself on the top of a tree. nobody saw me. hours and hours the austrians marched close to my protecting tree. at once two magyar hussars rushed back looking around, evidently searching for me. they went. then came our first advance guard, and i slipped down from the tree and surprised them. is that not fate?" * * * * * typhus fever raged most in valevo, where the austrian troops came first and brought it, a worse enemy of serbia than even the austrians themselves. a serbian women's association in nish held a meeting and consulted a doctor how they could help. "don't go to valevo," advised the doctor. "whoever enters the hospital over there must die." the president, a well-known woman, kept silent, went home, packed her luggage and took the first train for valevo. after two weeks she was brought home infected by typhus, and died soon afterwards. * * * * * a patrician mother fled before the bulgars with two girls. for several days they had nowhere to sleep and nothing to eat. as they reached the rocky frontier of albania, the girls asked the mother: "and now, whither?" the mother smiled and said: "i will give you now the last bit to eat, and then we will go where we will be perfectly safe from enemy and hunger." and she gave to the girls and she herself took--poison. * * * * * in spring 1913 the montenegrins took scutari after immense sacrifice of lives. yet they were forced by the great powers through austria's intrigues to leave the very dear town. soon afterwards a serbian from montenegro travelled from cattaro to fiume. an austrian officer saw him in his picturesque costume, and said to him with irony: "you see after all you must yield scutari to us." "yes," replied the montenegrin, "we montenegrins and you austrians are as different as lions and foxes. there are many dens of lions where the foxes creep in and not one den of foxes where you could find a lion." serbia on the islands serbia suffered shipwreck, and her broken pieces are now dispersed all over the islands in the mediterranean. a little island of the serbian refugees is formed in greece, and also in italy, in france, in england and in america. and what happened with the ship of the serbian nation? she plunged to the bottom of a hell of darkness and suffering. the people from the neutral countries coming now from serbia describe serbia as a silent grave, her towns with deserted streets, with plundered or shut-up shops, her villages under a nightmare of starvation. there are only children and women at home, and very soon there will be no more either children or women. the russian and italian prisoners are brought to serbia to make roads, railways and fortifications for serbia's enemies, and all the males from serbia have been taken away--who can divine where? the serbian bishops and priests, and all the leaders of the nation have been carried away too. there are neither leaders nor nation in the serbian country. i don't exaggerate when i say that all the sufferings of poor and sorely stricken belgium is still only a shadow of what serbia sutlers in that dark corner of the world which is called the balkans, far off from all friendly eyes, friendly ears and hearts. yet i will not compare the sufferings of all these nations crucified and martyred by the germans. i will say only that martyred serbia, with montenegro, has been recently ranked among the other martyred nations: poland, belgium and armenia. her cross is very heavy, her wounds very deep, her bleeding deadly. i know, gentlemen, how your generous hearts are now quite open for serbia. but, unfortunately, serbia is now closed to your generosity. between your generosity and serbia's suffering, between your medicaments and her wounds, between your bread and her hunger, there stands a hedge of germano-bulgar bayonets. all that you can do is to save serbia on the islands, and, if possible, to hurry to liberate serbia's country from the darkest slavery in which she was ever plunged. serbia on the islands--it seems so--will be the only population of the future serbia. those who escaped from the germano-bulgar annihilation will be the people who will enter into the promised land, into free serbia. i am sure you will save in time these remnants of the serbian nation, which is now as always the faithful english ally and admirer. i am sure you will give protection to them who have given you, in the time of light and in the time of darkness, their friendship and devotion. by this protection of serbia, as well as of all the little and oppressed nations in europe and asia, you will do more for the glory of your country than by any extension of its frontier or accumulation of riches. serbia suffers and still hopes. serbia's hopes go to god, crossing this island of yours, crossing your hearts and souls, as the bridge between her and god. serbia hopes to be free with all her brothers, who are suffering under the manifold yokes of merciless strangers. _serbia militans_ did every possible thing you expected her to do. she has been for you, not only politically and militantly, correct, but childish, sincere and devout. now she is sitting on your threshold and looking towards you with shining tears in her eyes. and the god of heaven knows serbia and knows england. he waits to see what you are going to do for serbia. who dares to doubt that you, descendants of shakespeare and pitt, of carlyle and gladstone, will show yourself less chivalrous towards the little serbia than serbia has shown herself chivalrous towards you? _i_ dare not doubt it. _part ii_ fragments of serbian national wisdom be as patient as an ox, as brave as a lion, as industrious as a bee, and as cheerful as a bird. help the beggar. he is not a beggar because god cannot feed all his children, but because he placed him as a beggar on the street to test your heart. every penny that you give to a beggar, god counts double as his debt to you. what is the first principle for humanity? some say to eat, others not to eat. some say to speak, others to remain silent. some say to hasten, others to go slowly. some say to work, others to idle. some say to pray, others not to pray. some say to destroy life, and others to preserve it. what, then, is this first principle? it is life and death, and god over both. the moonlight accentuates the silence of the churchyard, the sunshine the clamour of the market-place. by our good works we help god very little, and by our evil deeds we do him no harm. but by our good works we help ourselves, and by our evil deeds we harm ourselves. nevertheless, do good not for your own sake, but for god's, so that your joy may be greater and your determination more lasting. sin is worse than failure. vice is worse than sin. obstinacy in evil is worse than vice. to be a drunkard means making an alliance with satan, to steal means to do satan's work, and to kill means to become satan's slave. whether you go slowly or quickly, death keeps his appointment. there are three kinds of men: first, those who plough and sow with the devil; second, those who plough with the devil and sow with god; and third, those who plough and sow with god. the riddle of life is so mysterious that the more we try to solve it the deeper seems the mystery, but the more we work and pray, the nearer seems the solution. scrutiny magnifies the enigma of life, prayer lessens it. whether righteous or unrighteous, you must die; but if you die righteous you will be mourned, but if unrighteous you will be scoffed at. * * * * * if i see your eyes, i know you a little. if i hear your voice, i know you still more. if i see your actions, i will know you altogether. when christ crucified was contemptuously asked by his executioners why his followers were not trying to avenge him, he answered: "they will not remove your sin by committing one of their own." when st. peter was asked why he would be crucified head down, he answered: "because in leaving this life i wish to look toward heaven, not toward you." a man, asked what two things he did not like, said a worm in the ear and an enemy at the door. a man, asked what things he disliked, said an old bachelor telling love stories of his youth. a hermit, asked what excited his compassion most, said an ox with a thorn in his foot and a man whose feet have never felt the thorn; or a thirsty eagle in a desert and a man who has never felt thirst. there are two brotherhoods among men, that of purity and that of impurity. be as courageous as the days which come and go, even when they know that men are waiting to fill them with impurity. if a man casts clay at the sun, it falls back on his face; if he casts stones against god, they fall on his head. the man who utters lies defiles not only the air, but his own heart. the man who counts gold pieces in the dark has only gold for his sun and is miserable. * * * * * both man and the air are purified by movement. by using our hands we become strong; by using our brains, wise; and by using our hearts, merciful. when the cow lies down to ruminate and a man goes to do evil, the cow is better than the man. when an oak turns towards the sun to enjoy its life, and a man comes with an axe to cut it down, the oak is better than the man. a gold piece lying shining in the dust is better than the man attempting to steal it. life has silken wings, but death uses iron scissors. our disappointments prove only that fate refuses to further our projects in life. * * * * * happiness forgets many, death nobody. life allures us with a full glass, and in the end casts us and the glass together into the grave. life and death are each other's heirs. living, we see the bright side of life and the dark side of death, but afterwards we will see each reversed. as many tears and sighs are caused by life as by death. a man cannot understand his father until he has experienced fatherhood, nor can a woman understand her mother before she herself becomes a mother. our birth is a mingling of pleasure and pain; the pain sanctifies the pleasure. although opposed, the pleasure and the pain lend strength to one another. even the thief pays for what he steals, for in getting an inch of good for his body he loses an inch of his soul. in this life god follows you as your shadow, in the next you will go as god's shadow. seeing, suffering, and death are three teachers of men. seeing makes men wise, suffering makes them wiser, and death makes them wisest of all. the finest music of hearts and stars is heard only in the silence of death. in every humble superstition there is greater beauty than in any vain-glorious wisdom. man's greatest wisdom is nearer the wisdom of the horse than it is to the wisdom of god. our bodies are only bridges over which our souls communicate with one another. our eyes are windows of our souls, hypocrisy is a curtain covering these windows. * * * * * what is death? if you are freezing on a winter night, it is a warm couch. if you are hungry, it is a place where hunger is never felt. if you are persecuted, it is a kind-hearted overlord who welcomes you at the open door. if you are alone and forgotten, it is a hall where your dearest kinsmen are expecting you. if you are a sinner, then it is for you a period of pain and shame. if you are a slave, it is your liberty. * * * * * a slave came daily to a noisy brook and, sitting down, listened in silence. "why do you come every day to me?" asked the brook. "i am condemned to silence by my tyrants, and i come to voice my complaints through your clamorous babbling." a slave listened every night to a nightingale. "why are you listening to me?" said the bird. the answer was: "my ears are denied all day by the curses of my master, and i listen all night to your voice so that my ears may be purified." a slave looked every day towards the clouds. "o man, why do you look at us?" said the clouds. "because," said the slave, "i hope you understand my thought, and will tell them to him to whom you are nearer than i am." * * * * * until a man is a father he looks back to his own father; when he is himself a father he looks forward and loses his father. men with little wisdom have much passion; men with much wisdom have great compassion and little passion. never in prayer try to teach god what he should do for you, but rather ask him what you should do for him. too much light as well as too much darkness causes blindness. construct a better world, and then you may say that this one is bad. when you kill a lion, you can say: "i sinned because i killed my brother." when you kill a man, you can say: "i sinned because i killed myself." if you love god, you cannot fear him; if you fear him, you cannot love him. be humble, for the worst thing in the world is of the same stuff as you; be confident, for the stars are of the same stuff as you. * * * * * when the wind blows, the fool tries to compete by shouting. summer is most loved in winter, and winter in summer. ugliness moves slowly, but beauty is in great haste. god speaks every language except the godless, god grants everything except eternity, god takes back everything but sins. the best thing that the last man on earth can do is just what the first man could do. he can kneel on the earth, his mother, and pray to god, his father. the fool is wisest when he sleeps; the wise man is most foolish when he dances. when young men stand at the bier of an old man, it is pathetic; if old men stand at the bier of a young man, it is grievous; but god sees all and keeps silent. why should you lament? * * * * * if you kill a solitary man, his kinsmen from the other world will persecute you. nobody can forever conceal what is good in you, nor can you yourself conceal what is evil. there is no real death except the death of the soul. there is no real joy except the joy of a righteous man. the joy of the sinner is half joy and half retribution. the eyes are the controller of the tongue. a clever man tells his lies with his eyes closed. what is the news? there is no news but what is half old. it is better to talk about what you know than to talk about what you do not know. he who can love passionately can hate passionately. maternal love is most enduring, a brother's hatred the shortest. there is no harvest without seed. we see often a harvest of evil, the seed of which time has concealed. * * * * * in the life to come all our senses will be doubled and quadrupled, so that when we see we shall see not only with our eyes but with our whole being, and when we hear and when we smell or taste it is the same. thus will it be where the morning sun shines always. we see only the beams of the sun, but the spirits also hear them; we hear the song of the nightingale, but the spirits also see it. in the next world what we now hear we shall see; what we now see we shall hear, and shall taste what we now smell. gold shines, and by shining speaks. how can you understand its language? god does, because he sent its language to the gold. * * * * * what is man? something between god and clay. what is clay? something that god makes. what is god? something of which clay and man are the shadow. it is no wonder that an animal should be selfish, not knowing its end. but it is wonderful that man can be selfish, knowing and foreseeing his end. * * * * * a turk once asked a serb why the serbs wept so much. the serb replied, "to wash away your turkish sins." a turk asked a serb why the serbs reminded people of the field of kossovo. "because," said the serb, "our dead are better than your living." all men are born in an impure state, but only the good reach a state of purity in life and in death. men are unhappy when striving to know all truth, because truth is greater than their life, and for this life only a small part of truth is necessary. a wolf, asked when he would stop killing sheep, replied, "when man stops killing man." the grass in the field, asked if it were not ashamed always to see nothing but the feet of men, replied: "not so much ashamed as men should be when they never see our heads." * * * * * a good custom hallows life and keeps men in brotherly unity. not god, but the prophets make division among men. god likes it more if you think, than if you speak about him. in speaking evil of him you do harm not only to yourself, but to your hearers too. different languages, but the same prayer; different prayers, but the same god. god is the spirit and form-maker; man is only the imitator of the form-maker. a silver piece, asked what it was worth, replied: "if a man could shine as i can, then i am merely worth a man." when the lord speaks you have to be silent; and the lord speaks in the night through the stars, in the day through better men than you. the foolish man speaks much because he has to apologise his foolishness, but why must you speak so much? * * * * * the man who fears customs fears the touch of dead and living. under every success lies a new enemy, the demon of pride. do not despise even the cicadas; their song is the only solace to the slave in prison. among all immoderate things the unrestrained tongue is the most annoying. death is not a punishment for him that dies, but a warning for the living. a long work and a short prayer edifies the house, but a long prayer and a short work destroys it. life without prayer--night without moonlight. god is not hidden, but our eyes are too small to see him. the smile in the sunshine is easy and common; the smile in the stormy weather is beautiful and rare. it is better to go to bed hungry than with a stolen supper in the stomach. * * * * * if you like to get friendship from a man, say only a good word about him in his absence. if you like to pacify a dog, say a good word to his face. life gives to every slave an empty glass to fill it either with tears or with hopes. when god wishes to punish a man he lets him be born among the rough neighbours. the night rebuked the clouds because they were so black. the wolf rebuked the dog because he was so wicked. it is better to be as patient as god than as righteous as god. by true prayer we confess our sins; by false prayer we report our deeds to god. every welcome guest may fail to come, except death, the most unwelcome. the grass asked a cow: "is it right that you eat me and tread on me?" "i don't know," replied the cow; "but tell me: is it right that the grass grows up from the bodies of my parents and will grow up from my own body?" * * * * * solitude is full of god. worldly clamour is godless. in solitude one feels both eternity of time and immensity of space. in worldly clamour one feels eternity and immensity only when death intervenes. the birds think that men cannot understand each other. why should not men think better of birds? the wise man feels god most in the silence of night; the child most in the crash of lightnings and in the rolling waters. three persons rushed the same way: a child, a learned man and a poor man. "where to?" asked the angel. "to grow old quickly and to see god," said the child. "to acquire profit and learning, and to know god," said the learned man. "to become rich and to serve god," said the poor man. the angel said: "if the clear eyes of a child cannot see god, how can the dim eye of passionate man see him? "if the simple mind of the unlearned man cannot know god, how can the bewildered mind of a learned man know him? "if a poor man cannot serve god with his heart, how can a rich one serve him with gold?" * * * * * if you marry, you will repent; if you do not marry, you will likewise repent. we never repent our brutality as much as our vulgarity. in being brutal we are equal to animals, but in being vulgar we are below them. when two blind men sit quarrelling about what is light, they are like two men quarrelling about what is god. a bird speaks and you do not understand, but god does, for it speaks his language. a lion speaks and you do not understand, but god does. the lion speaks his language. a brook speaks, and you stand on the bank and do not understand it, but god does. he made the brook's language. an oak speaks, and you wonder what it may say, but god does not wonder. he made the oak's language. * * * * * the devil has hopes as a man has, for he hopes that at the end god will listen to him, and the man hopes that at the end all men will listen to god. every murder means also partly a suicide. if you oppose a boastful man, he will believe his own words and hate you. if you listen to him silently and go from him silently, he will feel himself punished, and will follow you and ask you, if you believed his words. what represents a boastful man? poverty in spirit or in heart and wealth in words. the universe is too big for you to ask it to serve you, and you are too little to hope to change it. blood binds men with a thread, but love binds them with a metal band. the bonds of blood hold longer, the bonds of love hold stronger. easier it is for the sun to hate its own light than for a mother to hate her own son. * * * * * when men are quarrelling about the land, god is standing among them and whispering: "i am the proprietor!" god may be either accompanying or pursuing you. it depends upon you. a lake at the foot of a mountain is a mirror for the mountain; just so is the past a mirror for mankind. a pine-tree looks towards heaven expecting with confidence rain, snow, or light. you can protect yourself from rain, snow and light, but there is no roof to protect you from death. our life is obscure, our death is obscure; god is the only light of both. our body is fragile, our soul is fragile; god is the only strength of both. our works are dust, our hopes are dust; god only makes both enduring. from three sides god encircles us; he remains behind us in the past, he is with us in the present, and he awaits us in the future. * * * * * death relieves a rich man more than a poor one, for from the poor man it takes only life, while from the rich it takes both life and fortune. if you cannot admire the animal's dull life, you must at least admire its noiseless death. the sea, when asked why it roared, replied: "to show men how petty their noisy quarrels are." an oak, when asked in what way it thought oaks superior to men, said: "we oaks are more decent in taking our food, for we hide our mouths and eat only in the darkness under the earth." a raven, when asked the difference between the flesh of an innocent man and a wicked one, replied: "the flesh of an innocent man supports my life, but the flesh of a wicked man is difficult for me to find." a dog knows the world by smell, a wolf by appetite, a bird by hearing, a worm by tasting, and a man by seeing. are you afraid to touch the unclean man? the sun which is purer than you is not afraid. except his soul, there is nothing in man which can be saved from corruption. a little dog said to a wolf: "don't eat me now; when my teeth have grown, i will be sweeter for you." a calf said to the cow, its mother, who wore a heavy yoke: "you are old enough not to be so stupid as to wear a yoke." "wait a little," replied the cow, "and by degrees you will take my burden, if you should not be roast meat sooner." * * * * * what is it to be a gentleman? to be the first to thank, and the last to complain. the words "thank you" show that life is founded on injustice. death is the cleverest thief. he can steal a living man who is surrounded by the most formidable guard. the water shines because the sun shines. gold shines because the sun shines. snow shines because the sun shines. the sun shines because god shines, and he shines because he is god. * * * * * every tear is not a sign of distress; every smile is not a sign of joy. wine and beauty can both intoxicate, but without passion neither can cause real intoxication. death and passion are only different temperatures of man. we can change the temperature of passion, but god only can change the temperature of death. copper is fine, but gold is finer. gold is fine, but the air is finer. the air is fine, but the spirit is finer. the spirit is fine, but god is finer. one can live without copper, but not without gold. one can live without gold, but not without air. one can live without air, but not without spirit. one can live without spirit, but not without god. many people sing, but few are singers. many people write, but few are writers. many people speak, but few are orators. many people think, but few are thinkers. many people pray, but few are religious. many people smile, but few are happy. many people hope, but few are not disappointed. many people die, but few will survive. * * * * * sweetness and bitterness are enemies, but both are necessary in this world. light and darkness are enemies, but both are necessary. poison may do no harm if used properly; nor is darkness harmful if it comes and goes at due times. it is better that your good deed should be forgotten than that your evil deed should make you famous. you will begin to be a good man when you prefer anonymity to false fame. if you offend a mother, remember that her son will be angry with you, and you will understand him because you are a son too. if you offend a girl, remember that her brother will be angry with you, and you will understand because you are a brother too. if you hate a man, remember that there is a woman who does better than that, for he had a mother who loves him. can you not equal a woman? god and a mother asked each other the same question: "how long will you continue to forgive your children?" * * * * * a man is like a drop of water, but mankind is like the ocean. a drop of water cannot endure a look of the sun, but the ocean bears iron and lead. a man is like one blade of grass. mankind is like a meadow. a traveller going along does not see the blade, but the meadow rejoices his sight. a man's life is not one man's life, but is the life of mankind so closely interwoven that it resembles the carpet covering the floor of a room. things happen to-day, the cause of which began yesterday; but things also happen to-day, the cause of which date from the beginning of the world. man grows old, but not the world. man dies, but the world cannot. the world cannot die, because it is in touch with god, and therefore is immortal. not everything is in touch with god, nor yet with the sun. everything is affected by the sun directly or indirectly, and the same is true of god. the best things are a bridge between god and the world, but god only knows what the best things are. cold makes darkness deeper, just as darkness makes cold more intense. the progress of the heart is slower than the progress of the brain. * * * * * a serpent lives in the water, but the water is not poisonous; if your tongue is poisonous, keep the mouth closed so as not to poison the air. giving is pleasanter than receiving. a king boasted that he would rule all the earth, but the sun looking down upon him could not distinguish him from the clay on which he stood. that man is my friend who lives laboriously like the bee and dies quietly like the grass. when wolves and sheep are brothers, what will the wolves eat? lift up your hearts to heaven. the foulest water is purified when it is lifted to the clouds of heaven. the greatest pain should not be the subject of speech. the headache is worse than a pain in the hand, a toothache than a headache, crucifixion than toothache, and hopeless slavery than crucifixion. a gipsy, asked what pain is greatest, said: "to be hungry and to see bread before the householder's dog." a mother, asked what pain is greatest, said: "to see a snake coming from the grave of one's child." a man, asked what three things he did not like, said: "to be compelled to cut down the tree planted by his own hands, to be on the watch for a blow, and to go hunting with a deaf man." * * * * * economise in speaking, but not in thinking. only an oath to do evil may you break with god's permission. if you have fixed to-morrow as a day for revenge, do not sleep but talk with death, and see if it were not better to postpone your vengeance. if you help a beggar, you wipe out the fault of your ancestors. when will the world become better? when the ass stops competing with the nightingale. when will the world become better? when men build two bridges--one to god and one to nature--and when rich men learn to consider themselves great debtors to god. god is more silent than silence in observing sins, and more audible than a cart in punishing them. god and sinners wish to annihilate one another. a turk asked a serb what there would be at the end. the answer was: "i know not what there will be, but i know what there will not be--there will not be turkish dominion over serbia." the imitator remains in the shadow of him whom he imitates. the imitated lives in the sunshine, but the imitator remains always in shadow. part iii fragments of serbian popular poetry jakshich's partitioning. hark! the moon is to the day-star calling: "morning star! say, where hast thou been wandering; tell me where thou hast so long been lingering; where hast white days three so wasted,--tell me?" to the moon, anon, the day-star answer'd: "i have wander'd, moon! and i have linger'd, lingered o'er belgrad's white towers, and wondered at the marvellous things which i have witnessed: how two brothers have their wealth partitioned, jakshich dmitar and jakshich bogdana. they had thus arranged the shares allotted, well their father's substance had divided: dmitar took wallachia[5] for his portion, took wallachia and entire moldavia;[6] banat also, to the river danube. bogdan took the level plains of sermia, and the even country of the sava; servia, too, as far as ujitz's fortress. dmitar took the lower fortress'd cities, and neboisha's tower upon the danube; bogdan took the upper fortress'd cities, and the church-possessing town, rujitza. then a strife arose about a trifle,- such a trifle; but a feud soon follow'd,- a black courser and a grey-wing'd falcon! dmitar claims the steed, as elder brother claims the steed, and claims the grey-wing'd falcon. bogdan will not yield or horse or falcon. when the morning of the morrow waken'd, dmitar flung him on the sable courser, took upon his hand the grey-wing'd falcon, went to hunt into the mountain forest; and he called his wife, fair angelia: 'angelia! thou my faithful lady! kill with poison thou my brother bogdan; but if thou refuse to kill my brother, tarry thou in my white court no longer." when the lady heard her lord's commandments, down she sat all sorrowful and gloomy; to herself she thought, and said in silence, --'and shall i attempt it?--i, poor cuckoo! shall i kill my brother--kill with poison!- 'twere a monstrous crime before high heaven, 'twere a sin and shame before my people. great and small would point their fingers at me, saying,--'that is the unhappy woman, that is she who kill'd her husband's brother!' but if i refuse to poison bogdan, never will my husband come to bless me!' thus she thought, until a thought relieved her; she descended to the castle's cavern, took the consecrated cup of blessing. 'twas a cup of beaten gold her father had bestow'd upon his daughter's nuptials; full of golden wine she fill'd the vessel, and she bore it to her brother bogdan. low to earth she bow'd herself before him, and she kiss'd his hands and garments meekly. 'lo! i bring to thee this cup, my brother! this gold cup, with golden wine o'erflowing. give me for my cup a horse and falcon.' bogdan heard the lady speak complacent, and most cheerfully gave steed and falcon. meanwhile through the day was dmitar wandering in the mountain-forest; nought he found there; but chance brought him at the fall of evening to a green lake far within the forest, where a golden-pinion'd duck was swimming. dmitar loosen'd then his grey-wing'd falcon, bade him seize the golden-pinion'd swimmer. faster than the hunter's eye could follow, lo! the duck had seized the grey-wing'd falcon, and against his sides had crush'd his pinion. soon as dmitar jakshich saw, he stripp'd him, stripp'd him swiftly of his hunting garments;- speedily into the lake he plung'd him, and he bore his falcon from its waters. then with pitying voice he ask'd his falcon: 'hast thou courage yet, my faithful falcon! now thy wings are from thy body riven?' whispering, said the falcon to his master: 'i without my pinions nought resemble, but a brother riven from a brother.' then the thought pierced through the breast of dmitar, that his wife was charged to kill his brother. swift he threw him on his mighty courser- swift he hurried to bijã¶grad's[7] fortress, praying that his brother had not perish'd. he had hardly reached the bridge of chekmel,[8] when he spurr'd his raven steed so fiercely that the impetuous courser's feet sank under, and were crushed and broken on the pavement. in his deep perplexity and trouble, dmitar took the saddle off his courser, flung it on the courser's nether haunches, and he fled alone to belgrad's fortress. first he sought, impatient, for his lady- 'angelia! thou my bride all faithful! tell me, tell me, hast thou kill'd my brother?' sweet indeed was angelia's answer: 'no! indeed i have not killed thy brother; to thy brother have i reconciled thee.'" jelitza and her brothers. nine fair sons possessed a happy mother; and the tenth, the loveliest and the latest, was jelitza,--a beloved daughter. they had grown together up to manhood, till the sons were ripe for bridal altars, and the maid was ready for betrothing. many a lover asked the maid in marriage; first a ban;[9] a chieftain was the other; and the third, a neighbour from her village. so her mother for the neighbour pleaded; for the far-off dwelling ban her brothers. thus they urged it to their lovely sister: "go, we pray thee, our beloved sister, with the ban across the distant waters: go! thy brothers oft will hasten to thee; every month of every year will seek thee; every week of every month will seek thee." so the maiden listened to her brothers, with the ban she crossed the distant waters: but, behold! o melancholy marvel! god sent down the plague, and all the brothers. all the nine, were swept away, and lonely stood their miserable sonless mother. three long years had pass'd away unheeded; often had jelitza sighed in silence: "heaven of mercy! 'tis indeed a marvel! have i sinn'd against them?--that my brothers, spite of all their vows, come never near me." then did her stepsisters scorn and jeer her: "cast away! thy brothers must despise thee! never have they come to greet their sister." bitter was the sorrow of jelitza, bitter from the morning to the evening, till the god of heaven took pity on her, and he summon'd two celestial angels: "hasten down to earth," he said, "my angels! to the white grave, where jovan is sleeping,- young jovan, the maiden's youngest brother. breathe your spirit into him; and fashion from the white grave-stone a steed to bear him: from the mouldering earth his food prepare him: let him take his grave shroud for a present! then equip and send him to his sister." swiftly hasten'd god's celestial angels to the white grave where jovan was sleeping. from the white grave-stone a steed they fashion'd; into his dead corpse they breathed their spirit; from the ready earth the bread they moulded; for a present his grave-shroud they folded; and equipp'd, and bade him seek his sister. swiftly rode jovan to greet his sister. long before he had approach'd her dwelling, far, far off his sister saw and hail'd him; hastened to him--threw her on his bosom, loosed his vest, and stamp'd his cheeks with kisses. then she sobb'd with bitterness and anguish, then she wept, and thus address'd her brother: "o! jovan! to me--to me, a maiden, thou, and all my brothers, all, ye promised oft and oft to seek your distant sister: every month in every year to seek her,- every week in every month to seek her. three long years have sped away unheeded, and ye have not sought me"--for a moment she was silent; and then said, "my brother! thou art deadly pale! why look so deadly pale, as if in death thou hadst been sleeping?" but jovan thus check'd his sister: "silence, silence, sister! as in god thou trustest; for a heavy sorrow has o'erta'en me. when eight brothers had prepared their nuptials, eight stepsisters ready to espouse them, hardly was the marriage service ended ere we built us eight white dwellings, sister! therefore do i look so dark, jelitza." three white days had pass'd away unheeded, and the maid equipp'd her for a journey. many a costly present she provided for her brothers and her bridal sisters: for her brothers, fairest silken vestments; for her bridal-sisters, rings and jewels. but jovan would fain detain her--"go not, go not now, i pray thee--my jelitza! wait until thy brothers come and greet thee." but she would not listen to her brother: she prepared the costliest, fairest presents. so the young jovan began his journey, and his sister travell'd patient by him. so as they approach'd their mother's dwelling, near the house a tall white church was standing, young jovan he whispered to his sister- "stop, i pray thee, my beloved sister! let me enter the white church an instant. when my middle brother here was married, lo! i lost a golden ring, my sister! let me go an instant--i shall find it." jovan went--into his grave he glided- and jelitza stood--she stood impatient- wondering--wondering--but in vain she waited. then she left the spot to seek her brother. many and many a grave was in the churchyard newly made--jovan was nowhere--sighing, on she hasten'd--hasten'd to the city, saw her mother's dwelling, and press'd forward eager to that old white dwelling. listen to that cuckoo's cry within the dwelling! lo! it was not the gray cuckoo's crying- 'twas her aged, her gray-headed mother. to the door jelitza press'd--outstretching her white neck, she call'd--"make ope, my mother! hasten to make ope the door, my mother!" but her mother to her cry made answer: "plague of god! avaunt! my sons have perish'd- all--all nine have perish'd--wilt thou also, take their aged mother!" then jelitza shriek'd, "o open--open, dearest mother! i am not god's plague--i am thy daughter. thine own daughter--thy jelitza, mother!" then the mother push'd the door wide open, and she scream'd aloud, and groan'd, and flung her old arms round her daughter--all was silent- stiff and dead they fell to earth together. the holy nicholas. god of mercy! what a wond'rous wonder! such a wonder ne'er before was witness'd. in saint paul's--within the holy cloister, gather'd round a golden table, seated in three ranks, the saints are all collected; o'er them sits the thunderer elias;[10] in the midst are sava and maria; at the ends are petka and nedelia; and their health the holy nicholas pledges. pledges them their health to jesus' glory.[11] but behold, behold the saint!--he slumbers; from his hand the cup of wine has fallen, fallen from it on the golden table: yet the wine's unspilt,--the cup unbroken. then laughed out the thunderer elias: "o my brother! o thou holy nicholas: often drank we cooling wine together; but it was our duty not to slumber. not to drop the cup--and tell me, brother, why to-day does slumber's power subdue thee?" him thus answer'd nicholas the holy: "jest not thus with me, thou sainted thunderer! for i fell asleep, and dreamt three hundred, dreamt three hundred friars had embark'd them in one vessel on the azure ocean; bearing offerings to the holy mountain, offerings,--golden wax, and snowy incense. from the clouds there broke a furious tempest, lash'd the blue waves of the trembling ocean, scooping watery graves for all the friars. then i heard their blended voices call me, 'help, o god! and help, o holy nicholas! would that thou, where'er thou art, wert with us!' so i hurried down to help the suppliants- so i saved the whole three hundred friars so i shipped them full of joy and courage; brought their offerings to the holy mountain, brought their golden wax, their snowy incense;- and meanwhile i seem'd in gentle slumber, and my cup fell on the golden table." the maiden and the sun. a maiden proudly thus the sun accosted: "sun! i am fairer than thou,--far fairer; fairer than is thy sister[12] or thy brethren,- fairer than yon bright moon at midnight shining, fairer than yon gay star in heav'n's arch twinkling, that star, all other stars preceding proudly, as walks before his sheep the careful shepherd." the sun complain'd to god of such an insult: "what shall be done with this presumptuous maiden?" and to the sun god gave a speedy answer: "thou glorious sun! thou my beloved daughter![13] be joyous yet! say, why art thou dejected? wilt thou reward the maiden for her folly- shine on, and burn the maiden's snowy forehead. but i a gloomier dowry yet will give her; evil to her shall be her husband's brother; evil to her shall be her husband's father. then shall she think upon the affront she gave thee." frozen heart. thick fell the snow upon st. george's day; the little birds all left their cloudy bed; the maiden wander'd bare-foot on her way; her brother bore her sandals, and he said: "o sister mine! cold, cold thy feet must be." "no! not my feet, sweet brother! not my feet- but my poor heart is cold with misery. there's nought to chill me in the snowy sleet: my mother--'tis my mother who hath chill'd me, bound me to one who with disgust hath fill'd me." liberty. nightingale sings sweetly in the verdant forest: in the verdant forest, on the slender branches. thither came three sportsmen, nightingale to shoot at. she implored the sportsmen, "shoot me not, ye sportsmen! "shoot me not, ye sportsmen! i will give you music, in the verdant garden, on the crimson rose-tree." but the sportsmen seize her; they deceive the songster, in a cage confine her, give her to their loved one. nightingale will sing not- hangs its head in silence: then the sportsmen bear her to the verdant forests. soon her song is waken'd; woe! woe! woe betide us, friend from friend divided, bird from forest banish'd! brotherless sisters. two solitary sisters, who a brother's fondness never knew, agreed, poor girls, with one another, that they would make themselves a brother: they cut them silk, as snow-drops white; and silk, as richest rubies bright; they carved his body from a bough of box-tree from the mountain's brow; two jewels dark for eyes they gave; for eyebrows, from the ocean's wave they took two leeches; and for teeth fix'd pearls above, and pearls beneath; for food they gave him honey sweet, and said, "now live, and speak, and eat." printed by robert maclehose and co. ltd., at the university press glasgow, great britain. photos [illustration: king peter.] [illustration: crown prince alexander] [illustration: premier n.???] [illustration: king the fourteenth century] [illustration] [illustration: during turkish rule in serbia. serbs?? away?? the????] [illustration: ???] [illustration: the second serbian revolution of 1815.] [illustration: the monastery of kalenic. built by stephen the tall.] [illustration: serbian soldiers with an english nurse.] [illustration: serbian officers under adrianople in 1912.] [illustration: the cattle market.] [illustration:] [illustration: a typical montenegrin lady: h.m. queen milena.] [illustration: peasant types.] [illustration: the superior of a monastery.] [illustration: king peter: "how did it happen, general, that you turks lost the battle on kumanovo?" the turkish general: "kismet!"] [illustration: _photo-underwood and underwood_ women doing the work of men.] [illustration: serbian women carrying wounded. _from photograph by kind permission of mr. crawford price._] [illustration: waiting for a place at the hospital.] [illustration: "my mother" sculptor: t. mestovic] [illustration: spliet-spalato.] [illustration:] [illustration: dubrovnic ragusa] footnotes: [footnote 1: this lecture was delivered in december, 1915.] [footnote 2: the archbishop of canterbury, _the character and call of the church of england_, p. 118.] [footnote 3: stanley lane-poole, turkey, p. 40.] [footnote 4: _daily telegraph_, 5th february.] [footnote 5: kavavlashka.] [footnote 6: karabogdanska. _the above and following poems are taken from john bowring: serbian popular poetry_. london, 1827.] [footnote 7: belgrad.] [footnote 8: chekmel-juprija.] [footnote 9: _ban_, a title frequently used in servia. its general acceptation is governor. it may be derived from _pan_, the old slavonic for _lord_.] [footnote 10: gromovnik daja.] [footnote 11: i napij, i u slavu ristovn.] [footnote 12: _svezdã¡_, star, is of the feminine gender.] [footnote 13: _sun_ is feminine in servian.] bulgaria _uniform with this volume_ austria-hungary england france italy switzerland a. and c. black, ltd., 4 soho square, london, w. [illustration: a young shôp man of the district of sofia _frontispiece_] bulgaria by frank fox author of "england," "italy," and "switzerland" with 32 full-page illustrations in colour london a. and c. black, limited 1915 contents chapter i page by way of introduction 1 chapter ii bulgaria and the death of the roman empire 15 chapter iii the scrap-heap of races 36 chapter iv bulgaria--a power and a turkish province 52 chapter v the liberation of bulgaria 65 chapter vi the war of 1912-1913 77 chapter vii a war correspondent's trials in bulgaria 99 chapter viii incidents of bulgarian character 120 chapter ix the tragedy of 1914 134 chapter x some facts for the tourist and the economist 150 chapter xi how bulgaria is governed 167 chapter xii the future of bulgaria 174 chapter xiii the responsibility of europe 187 index 207 list of illustrations by jan v. mrkvitchka and noel pocock* 1. a young shôp man of the district of sofia _frontispiece_ facing page 2. a contented turk 8 3. a peasant at work--district of tsaribrod 17 4. women of pordim, in the plevna district 19 5. in the harvest fields near sofia 22 6. a shôp woman of the district of sofia 24 7. a woman of thrace, of the shôp tribe, and of macedonia 33 8. *sistov, on the danube 40 9. ancient costume of balkan peasant women near gabrovo 49 10. a wedding in the rhodopes 56 11. *roustchouk, on the danube 65 12. "mystery"--a study in the roustchouk district 67 13. a blind beggar woman 70 14. a young married shôp woman 72 15. *a bulgarian market town 75 16. blessing the lamb on st. george's day 78 17. *the cathedral, sofia 81 18. *an adrianople street 88 19. *the shipka pass 97 20. a young widow at her husband's grave 104 21. gipsies 113 22. a peasant of the tsaribrod district 120 23. the ratchenitza, the national dance of bulgaria 129 24. a bagpiper 136 25. a young girl of irn 145 26. guarding the flocks and herds 152 27. an old street in philippopolis 161 28. a grave question 168 29. a young man of the choumla district 177 30. *a bulgarian farm 184 31. a young woman of the roustchouk district 193 32. at the well 200 _sketch map at end of volume._ bulgaria chapter i by way of introduction instructed in the autumn of 1912 to join the bulgarian army, then mobilising for war against turkey, as war correspondent for the _london morning post_, i made my preparations with the thought uppermost that i was going to a cut-throat country where massacre was the national sport and human life was regarded with no sentimental degree of respect. the bulgarians, a generation ago, had been paraded before the eyes of the british people by the fiery eloquence of mr. gladstone as a deeply suffering people, wretched victims of turkish atrocities. after the wide sympathy that followed his bulgarian atrocities campaign there came a strong reaction. it was maintained that the bulgarians were by no means the blameless victims of the turks; and could themselves initiate massacres as well as suffer from them. some even charged that there was a good deal of party spirit to account for the heat of mr. gladstone's championship. i think that the average british opinion in 1912 was that, regarding the quarrels between bulgar and turk, there was a great deal to be said against both sides; and that no balkan people was worth a moment's sentimental worry. "let dogs delight to bark and bite, for 'tis their nature to," expressed the common view when one heard that there had been murders and village-burnings again in the balkans. certainly there were enthusiasts who held to the old gladstonian faith that there was some peculiar merit in the bulgarian people which justified all that they did, and which would justify great britain in going into the most dangerous of wars on their behalf. these enthusiasts, as if to make more startlingly clear their love for bulgaria, commonly took a profoundly pacific view of all other questions of international politics, and would become passionately indignant at the suggestion that the british power should ever move navy or army in defence of any selfish british interest. they were--they still are, it may be said--the leading lights of what is called the peace-at-any-price party, detesting war and "jingoism," and viewing patriotism, when found growing on british soil, with dry suspicion. patriotism in bulgaria is, however, to their view a growth of a different order, worthy to be encouraged and sheltered at any cost. as a counter-weight to these enthusiasts, great britain sheltered a little band, usually known as pro-turks, who believed, with almost as passionate a sincerity as that of the pro-bulgarians, that the turk was the only gentleman in europe, and that his mild and blameless aspirations towards setting up the perfect state were being cruelly thwarted by the abominable bulgars and other balkan riff-raff. good government in the balkans would come, they held, if the tide of turkish rule flowed forward and the restless, semi-savage, murderous balkan christian states went back to peace and philosophic calm under the wise rule of cadi administering the will of the khalifate. but pro-bulgarian and pro-turk made comparatively few converts in great britain. they formed influential little groups and inspired debates in the house of lords and the house of commons, and published literature, and went out as missions to their beloved nationalities, and had all their affection confirmed again by the fine appreciation showered upon them. the great mass of british public opinion, however, they did not touch. there was never a second flaming campaign because of turkish atrocities towards bulgaria, and the pro-turks never had a sufficient sense of humour to suggest a counter-campaign when bulgarians made reprisals. in official circles the general attitude towards balkan affairs was one of vexation alternating with indifference. "those detestable balkans!" quoth one diplomat in an undiplomatic moment: and expressed well the official mind. "they are six of one and half a dozen of the other," said the man in the street when he heard of massacres, village-burnings, and tortures in the balkans; and he turned to the football news with undisturbed mind, seeking something on which a fair opinion could be formed without too much worry. the view of the man in the street was my view in 1912. i can recall being contented in my mind to know that at any rate one's work as a war correspondent would not be disturbed by any sympathy for the one side or the other. whichever side lost it would deserve to have lost, and whatever reduction in the population of the balkan peninsula was caused by the war would be ultimately a benefit to europe. in parts of america where the race feeling is strongest, they say that the only good nigger is a dead nigger. so i felt about the balkan populations. the feelings of a man with some interest in flocks of sheep on hearing that war had broken out between the wolves and the jackals would represent fairly well the attitude of mind in which i packed my kit for the balkans. it is well to put on record that mental foundation on which i built up my impressions of the balkans generally, and of the bulgarian people particularly, for at the present time (1914) i think it may safely be said that the bulgarian people are somewhat under a cloud, and are not standing too high in the opinion of the civilised world. yet, to give an honest record of my observations of them, i shall have to praise them very highly in some respects. whilst it would be going too far to say that the praise is reluctant, it is true that it has been in a way forced from me, for i went to bulgaria with the prejudice against the bulgarians that i have indicated. and--to make this explanation complete--i may add that i came back from the balkans not a pro-bulgarian in the sense that i was anti-greek or anti-servian or even anti-turk; but with a feeling of general liking for all the peasant peoples whom a cruel fate has cast into the balkans to fight out there national and racial issues, some of which are older than the christian era. yes, even the turk, the much-maligned turk, proved to have decent possibilities if given a decent chance. certainly he is no longer the terrible turk of tradition. most of the turks i encountered in bulgaria were prisoners of war, evidently rather pleased to be in the hands of the bulgarians who fed them decently, a task which their own commissariat had failed in: or were contented followers of menial occupations in bulgarian towns. i can recall turkish boot-blacks and turkish porters, but no turks who looked like warriors, and if they are cut-throats by choice (i do not believe they are) they are very mild-mannered cut-throats indeed. coming back from the lines of chatalja towards the end of 1912, i had, for one stage of five days, between kirk kilisse and mustapha pasha, a turkish driver. he had been a bulgarian subject (i gathered) before the war, and with his cart and two horses had been impressed into the transport service. at first with some aid from an interpreter, afterwards mostly by signs and broken fragments of language, i got to be able to converse with this turk. (in the balkans the various shreds of races have quaint crazy-quilt patchworks of conversational language. somehow or other even a british citizen with more than the usual stupidity of our race as to foreign languages can make himself understood in the balkan peninsula, which is so polyglottic that its inhabitants understand signs very well.) my turk friend, from the very first, filled my heart with sympathy because of his love for his horses. since he had come under the war-rule of the bulgarians, he complained to me, he had not been allowed to feed his horses properly. they were fading away. he wept over them. actual tears irrigated the furrows of his weather-beaten and unwashed cheeks. as a matter of fact the horses were in very good condition indeed, considering all the circumstances; as good, certainly, as any horses i had seen since i left buda-pesth. but my heart warmed to this turcoman and his love for his horses. i had been seeking in vain up to this point for the appearance of the terrible turk of tradition; the turk, with his well-beloved arabian steed, his quite-secondary-in-consideration circassian harem; the fierce, unconquerable, disdainful, cruel turk, manly in his vices as well as in his virtues. my turk had at least one recognisable characteristic in his love for his horses. as he sorrowed over them i comforted him with a flagon--it was of brandy and water: and the prophet, when he forbade wine, was ignorant of brandy, so islam these days has its alcoholic consolation--and i stayed him with cigarettes. he had not had a smoke for a month and, put in possession of tobacco, he plunged into a mood of rapt exultation, rolling cigarette after cigarette, chuckling softly as he inhaled the smoke, turning towards me now and again with a gesture of thanks and of respect. i had taken over the reins and the little horses were doing very well. [illustration: a contented turk] that day, though we had started late, the horses carried us thirty-five miles, and i camped at the site of a burned-out village. the turk made no objection to this. previously coming over the same route with an ox-cart, my macedonian driver had objected to camping except in occupied villages where there were garrisons. he feared bashi-bazouks (the turkish irregular bands which occasionally showed themselves in the rear of the bulgarian army) and wolves. probably, too, he feared ghosts, or was uneasy and lonely when out of range of the village smells. now i preferred a burned village site, because the only clean villages were the burned ones; and for the reason of water it was necessary to camp at some village or village site. mr. turk went up hugely in my estimation when i found that he had no objections to the site of a burned village as a camping-place. but the first night in camp shattered all my illusions. the turk unharnessed and lit the camp fire. i cooked my supper and gave him a share. then he squatted by the fire and resumed smoking. the horses over which he had shed tears waited. after the turk's third cigarette i suggested that the horses should be watered and fed. the village well was about 300 yards away, and the turk evidently did not like the idea of moving from the fire. he did not move, but argued in turkish of which i understood nothing. finally i elicited the fact that the horses were too tired to drink and too tired to eat the barley i had brought for them. as a remedy for tiredness they were to be left without water and food all night. as plainly as was possible i insisted to the turk that the horses must be watered at once, and afterwards given a good ration of barley. i dragged him from the fire to the horses and made my meaning clear enough. the turk was stubborn. clearly either i was to water the horses myself or they were to be left without water, and my old traditions of horse-mastery would not allow me to have them fed without being watered. so this was the extent of the turk's devotion to his horses! it was necessary to be firm, and i took up the cart whip to the turk and convinced him almost at once that the horses were not "too tired" to drink. mr. turk did not resent the blows in the least. he refrained from cutting my throat as i slept that evening. afterwards a mere wave of the hand towards the whip made him move with alacrity. at the end of the journey, when i gave him a good "tip," he knelt down gallantly in the mud of mustapha pasha and kissed my hand and carried it to his forehead. so faded away my last hope of meeting the terrible turk of tradition in the balkans. perhaps he exists still in asia minor. as i saw the turk in bulgaria and in european turkey, he was a dull monogamic person with no fiery pride, no picturesque devilry, but a great passion for sweetmeats--not merely his own "turkish delight," but all kinds of lollipops: his shops were full of scotch and english confectionery. but the bulgarian, not the turk, is our theme. this introduction, however, will make it plain that, as the result of a direct knowledge of the balkans, during some months in which i had the opportunity of sharing in bulgarian peasant life, i came to the admiration i have now for the bulgarian people in spite of a preliminary prejudice. and this conversion of view was not the result of becoming involved in some passionate political attitude regarding balkan affairs. i am not now prepared to take up the view of the fanatic bulgar-worshippers who must not only exalt the bulgarian nation as a modern chosen people, but must represent servian, greek, and turk as malignant and devilish in order to throw up in the highest light their ideas of bulgarian saintliness. the balkans are apt to have strange effects on the traveller. perhaps it is the blood-mist that hangs always over the balkan plains and glens which gets into the head and intoxicates one: perhaps it is the call to the wild in us from the primitive human nature of the balkan peoples. whatever the reason, it is a common thing for the unemotional english traveller to go to the balkans as a tourist and return as a passionate enthusiast for some balkan peninsula nationality. he becomes, perhaps, a pro-turk, and thereafter will argue with fierceness that the turk is the only man who leads an idyllic life in europe to-day, and that the way to human regeneration is through a conversion to turkishness. he fills his house with turkish visitors and writes letters to the papers pointing out the savagery we show in the "turk's head" competition for our cavalry-men at military tournaments. or he may become a pro-bulgar with a taste for the company of highly flavoured macedonian revolutionary priests and a grisly habit of turning the conversation to the subject of outrage and massacre. to become a pro-servian is not a common fashion, but pro-albanians and pro-montenegrins and philhellenists are common enough. the word "crank," if it can be read in a kindly sense and stripped of malice, covers all these folk. exactly why the balkans have such an effect in making "cranks" i have already confessed an inability to explain. the fact must stand as one of those things which we must believe--if we read parliamentary debates and newspaper correspondence--but cannot comprehend. but any "crank" view i disavow. whether from a natural lack of a generous sense of partisanship, or a journalistic training (which crabs emotionalism: that acute observer of men, the late "general" booth, said once of his salvation army work, "you can never 'save' a journalist"), i came back from the balkans without a desire to join a society to exalt any one of the little nationalities struggling for national expression in its rowdy life. but i did get to a strong admiration of the bulgarian people as soldiers, farmers, road-makers, and as friends. the evidence on which that admiration is based will be stated in these pages, and it is my hope that it will do a little to set the bulgarian--who is sometimes much overpraised and often much over-abused--in a right light before my readers. but before dealing with the bulgarian of to-day we must look into his antecedents. chapter ii bulgaria and the death of the roman empire probably not the least part of the interest which the traveller or the student will take in bulgaria is the fact that it was the arena in which were fought the great battles of races declaring the doom of the roman empire. fortunately, from old gothic chronicles it is possible to get pictures--valuable for vivid colouring rather than strict accuracy--which bring very close to us that curious tragedy of civilisation, the destruction of the power of rome and the overrunning of europe by successive waves of barbarians. in the fifth century before christ, what is now bulgaria was practically a greek colony, and its trading relations with the north gave possibly the first hint to the goths of the easiest path by which to invade the roman empire. the present bulgarian towns of varna (on the black sea) and kustendji (which has a literary history in that it was later a place of banishment for ovid the poet) can be traced back as greek trading towns through which passed traffic from the mediterranean to the "scythians," _i.e._ the goths of the north. amber and furs came from the north of the river valleys, and caravans from the south brought in return silver and gold and bronze. towards the dawn of the christian era there began a swelling-over of the goths from the baltic shores, sending one wave of invasion down towards italy, another towards the black sea and the aegean. jordanes, the earliest gothic historian, writing in the sixth century gives this account--derived from gothic folk-songs--of the movement of the invasion towards the balkan peninsula (probably about a.d. 170): in the reign of the fifth king after berig, filimer, son of gadariges, the people had so greatly increased in numbers that they all agreed in the conclusion that the army of the goths should move forward with their families in quest of more fitting abodes. thus they came to those regions of scythia which in their tongue are called oium, whose great fertility pleased them much. but there was a bridge there by which the army essayed to cross a river, and when half of the army had passed, that bridge fell down in irreparable ruin, nor could any one either go forward or return. for that place is said to be girt round with a whirlpool, shut in with quivering morasses, and thus by her confusion of the two elements, land and water, nature has rendered it inaccessible. but in truth, even to this day, if you may trust the evidence of passers-by, though they go not nigh the place, the far-off voices of cattle may be heard and traces of men may be discerned. that part of the goths therefore which under the leadership of filimer crossed the river and reached the lands of oium, obtained the longed-for soil. then without delay they came to the nation of the spali, with whom they engaged in battle and therein gained the victory. thence they came forth as conquerors, and hastened to the farthest part of scythia which borders on the black sea. [illustration: a peasant at work, district of tsaribrod] the people whom these teutonic goths displaced were slavs. the goths settled down first on the black sea between the mouths of the danube and of the dniester and beyond that river almost to the don, becoming thus neighbours of the huns on the east, of the roman empire's balkan colonies on the west, and of the slavs on the north. it is reasonable to suppose that to some extent they mingled their blood somewhat with the slavs whom they dispossessed, and that they came into some contact with the huns also. it was in the third century of the christian era that these goths, who had been for some time subsidised by the roman emperors on the condition that they kept the peace, crossed the danube and devastated moesia and thrace. an incident of this invasion was the successful resistance of the garrison of marcianople--now schumla--to the invaders. in a following campaign the goths crossed the danube at novae (now novo-grad) and besieged philippopolis, a city which still keeps its name and now, as then, is an important strategical point commanding the thracian plain. (it was philippopolis which would have been the objective of the turkish attack upon bulgaria in 1912-1913 if turkey had been given a chance in that war to develop a forward movement.) this city was taken by the goths, and the first notable balkan massacre is recorded, over 100,000 people being put to the sword within its walls. later in the campaign the emperor decius was defeated and killed by the goths in a battle waged on marshy ground near the mouth of the danube. this was the second of the three great disasters which marked the doom of the roman empire: the first was the defeat of varus in germany; the third was to be the defeat and death of the emperor valens before adrianople. bulgaria, the scene of the second and third disasters, can accurately be described as having provided the death-arena for rome. [illustration: women of pordim, in the plevna district] from the defeat of decius (a.d. 251) may be said to date the gothic colonisation of the balkan peninsula. true, after that event the goths often retired behind the danube for a time, but, as a rule, thereafter they were steadily encroaching on the roman territory, carrying on a maritime war in the black sea as well as land forays across the danube. it was because of the successes of the goths in the balkans that the decision was ultimately arrived at to move the capital of the roman empire from rome to constantinople. during the first gothic attack, after the death of decius, byzantium itself was threatened, and the cities around the sea of marmora sacked. an incident of this invasion which has been chronicled is that the goths enjoyed hugely the warm baths they found at anchialus--"there were certain warm springs renowned above all others in the world for their healing virtues, and greatly did the goths delight to wash therein. and having tarried there many days they thence returned home." now anchialus is clearly identifiable as the present bulgarian town of bourgas, a flourishing seaport connected by rail with jambouli and still noted for its baths. in a later gothic campaign (a.d. 262), based on a naval expedition from the black sea, byzantium was taken, the temple of diana at ephesus destroyed, and athens sacked. a german historian pictures this last incident: the streets and squares which at other times were enlivened only by the noisy crowds of the ever-restless citizens, and of the students who flocked thither from all parts of the graeco-roman world, now resounded with the dull roar of the german bull-horns and the war-cry of the goths. instead of the red cloak of the sophists, and the dark hoods of the philosophers, the skin-coats of the barbarians fluttered in the breeze. wodan and donar had gotten the victory over zeus and athene. it was in regard to this capture of athens that the story was first told--it has been told of half a dozen different sackings since--that a band of goths came upon a library and were making a bonfire of its contents when one of their leaders interposed: "not so, my sons; leave these scrolls untouched, that the greeks may in time to come, as they have in time past, waste their manhood in poring over their wearisome contents. so will they ever fall, as now, an easy prey to the strong unlearned sons of the north." in the ultimate result the goths were driven out of athens by a small force led by dexippus, a soldier and a scholar whose exploit revived memory of the deeds of greece in her greatness. the capture of athens deeply stirred the civilised world of the day, and "goth" still survives as a term of destructive barbarism. a few years later (a.d. 269) the goths began a systematic invasion of the balkan provinces of the roman empire, attacking the roman territory both by sea and by land. the tide of victory sometimes turned for a while, and at naissus (now nish in servia, near the border of bulgaria) the goths were defeated by the emperor claudius. their defeated army was then shut up in the balkan mountains for a winter, and the gothic power in the balkans temporarily crushed. the emperor claudius, who took the surname gothicus in celebration of his victory, announced it grandiloquently to the governor of illyricum: _claudius to brocchus._ we have destroyed 320,000 of the goths; we have sunk 2000 of their ships. the rivers are bridged over with shields; with swords and lances all the shores are covered. the fields are hidden from sight under the superincumbent bones; no road is free from them; an immense encampment of waggons is deserted. we have taken such a number of women that each soldier can have two or three concubines allotted to him. [illustration: in the harvest fields near sofia] but the succeeding emperor, aurelian, gave up all dacia to the goths and withdrew the romanised dacians into the province of moesia--made up of what is now eastern servia and western bulgaria. this province was divided into two and renamed dacia. one part, dacia mediterranea, had for its capital sardica, now sofia, the capital of bulgaria. then followed a period of comparative peace. the roman emperors saw that on the balkan frontier their empire had to be won or lost, and strengthened the defences there. thus diocletian made his headquarters at nicomedia. finally, constantine moved the capital altogether to constantinople. goth and roman at this time showed a disposition to a peaceful amalgamation, and the bulgarian population was rapidly becoming a romano-gothic one. christianity had been introduced, and the gothic historian jordanes tells of a gothic people living upon the northern side of the balkan mountains: there were also certain other goths, who are called minores, an immense people, with their bishop and primate vulfila, who is said, moreover, to have taught them letters; and they are at this day dwelling in moesia, in the district called nicopolitana[1] at the foot of mount haemus, a numerous race, but poor and unwarlike, abounding only in cattle of divers kinds, and rich in pastures and forest timber, having little wheat, though the earth is fertile in producing other crops. they do not appear to have any vineyards: those who want wine buy it of their neighbours; but most of them drink only milk. [1] around the modern town of tirnova. a contemporary of the saintly ulfilas (who surely should be accepted as the first national hero of the bulgarians) states that ulfilas had originally lived on the other side of the danube and had been driven by persecution to settle in bulgaria. this contemporary, auxentius, records: and when, through the envy and mighty working of the enemy, there was kindled a persecution of the christians by an irreligious and sacrilegious judge of the goths, who spread tyrannous affright through the barbarian land, it came to pass that satan, who desired to do evil, unwillingly did good; that those whom he sought to make deserters became confessors of the faith; that the persecutor was conquered, and his victims wore the wreath of victory. then, after the glorious martyrdom of many servants and handmaids of christ, as the persecution still raged vehemently, after seven years of his episcopate were expired, the blessed ulfilas being driven from "varbaricum" with a great multitude of confessors, was honourably received on the soil of roumania by the emperor constantius of blessed memory. thus as god by the hand of moses delivered his people from the violence of pharaoh and the egyptians, and made them pass through the red sea, and ordained that they should serve him [on mount sinai], even so by means of ulfilas did god deliver the confessors of his only-begotten son from the "varbarian" land, and cause them to cross over the danube, and serve him upon the mountains [of haemus] like his saints of old. ulfilas civilised as well as christianised the goths of bulgaria, and was responsible for the earliest gothic alphabet--the moeso-gothic. he translated most of the scriptures into gothic, leaving out of his translation only such war stories as "the book of kings," judging that these would be too exciting for his gothic flock and would incite them to war. [illustration: a shôp woman of the district of sofia] after a century of peace war broke out again between the goths and the roman empire--which may now be called rather the greek empire--in a.d. 369. the course of the war was at first favourable to the emperor valens. all the independent goths were driven back behind the danube boundary, but were allowed to live there in peace. the roman orator themistius, in congratulating the emperor valens, put on record the extent of his achievement and of his magnanimity: but now, along almost all the frontiers of the empire, peace reigns, and all the preparation for war is perfect; for the emperor knows that they most truly work for peace who thoroughly prepare for war. the danube-shore teems with fortresses, the fortresses with soldiers, the soldiers with arms, the arms both beautiful and terrible. luxury is banished from the legions, but there is an abundance of all necessary stores, so that there is now no need for the soldier to eke out his deficient rations by raids on the peaceful villagers. there was a time when the legions were terrible to the provincials, and afraid of the barbarians. now all that is changed: they despise the barbarians and fear the complaint of one plundered husbandman more than an innumerable multitude of goths. to conclude, then, as i began. we celebrate this victory by numbering not our slaughtered foes but our living and tamed antagonists. if we regret to hear of the entire destruction even of any kind of animal, if we mourn that elephants should be disappearing from the province of africa, lions from thessaly, and hippopotami from the marshes of the nile, how much rather, when a whole nation of men, barbarians it is true, but still men, lies prostrate at our feet, confessing that it is entirely at our mercy, ought we not instead of extirpating, to preserve it, and make it our own by showing it compassion? valens restored bulgaria to the position of a wholly roman province, even the gothic minores being driven across the danube. but there was now to come another racial element into the making of bulgaria--the huns. i can still recall the resentment and indignation of the bulgarian officers in 1913 because a french war correspondent had, in a despatch which had escaped the censor, likened the crossing of the thracian plain by the great convoys of bulgarian ox-wagons to the passage of the danube by the huns in the fourth century. the bulgarians, always inclined to be sensitive, thought that the allusion made them out to be barbarians. but it was intended rather, i think, to show the writer's knowledge of the early history of the balkan peninsula and of the close racial ties between the bulgarians of to-day and the original huns. we have seen how the gothic invasion, coming from the baltic to the black sea, pushed on to the borders of the hun people living east of the volga. these huns now prepared an answering wave of invasion. to the goths the huns--the first of the tartar hordes to invade europe--were a source of superstitious terror. the gothic historian jordanes writes with frank horror of them: we have ascertained that the nation of the huns, who surpassed all others in atrocity, came thus into being. when filimer, fifth king of the goths, after their departure from sweden, was entering scythia, with his people, as we have before described, he found among them certain sorcerer-women, whom they call in their native tongue haliorunnas, whom he suspected and drove forth from his army into the wilderness. the unclean spirits that wander up and down in desert places, seeing these women, made concubines of them; and from this union sprang that most fierce people, the huns, who were at first little, foul, emaciated creatures, dwelling among the swamps and possessing only the shadow of human speech by way of language. according to priscus they settled first on the eastern shore of the sea of azof, lived by hunting, and increased their substance by no kind of labour, but only by defrauding and plundering their neighbours. once upon a time when they were out hunting beside the sea of azof, a hind suddenly appeared before them, and having entered the water of that shallow sea, now stopping, now dashing forward, seemed to invite the hunters to follow on foot. they did so, through what they had before supposed to be trackless sea with no land beyond it, till at length the shore of scythia lay before them. as soon as they set foot upon it, the stag that had guided them thus far mysteriously disappeared. this, i trow, was done by those evil spirits that begat them, for the injury of the goths. but the hunters who had lived in complete ignorance of any other land beyond the sea of azof were struck with admiration of the scythian land and deemed that a path known to no previous age had been divinely revealed to them. they returned to their comrades to tell them what had happened, and the whole nation resolved to follow the track thus opened out before them. they crossed that vast pool, they fell like a human whirlwind on the nations inhabiting that part of scythia, and offering up the first tribes whom they overcame, as a sacrifice to victory, suffered the others to remain alive, but in servitude. with the alani especially, who were as good warriors as themselves, but somewhat less brutal in appearance and manner of life, they had many a struggle, but at length they wearied out and subdued them. for, in truth, they derived an unfair advantage from the intense hideousness of their countenances. nations whom they would never have vanquished in fair fight fled horrified from those frightful--faces i can hardly call them, but rather--shapeless black collops of flesh, with little points instead of eyes. no hair on their cheeks or chins gives grace to adolescence or dignity to age, but deep furrowed scars instead, down the sides of their faces, show the impress of the iron which with characteristic ferocity they apply to every male child that is born among them, drawing blood from its cheeks before it is allowed its first taste of milk. they are little in stature, but lithe and active in their motions, and especially skilful in riding, broad-shouldered, good at the use of the bow and arrows, with sinewy necks, and always holding their heads high in their pride. to sum up, these beings under the form of man hide the fierce nature of the beast. that was a view very much coloured by race prejudice and the superstitious fears of the time. it suggests that at a very early period of balkan history the different races there had learned how to abuse one another. english readers might contrast it with matthew arnold's picture of a tartar camp in _sohrab and rustum_: the sun by this had risen, and clear'd the fog from the broad oxus and the glittering sands. and from their tents the tartar horsemen filed into the open plain; so haman bade- haman, who next to peran-wisa ruled the host, and still was in his lusty prime. from their black tents, long files of horse, they stream'd; as when some grey november morn the files, in marching order spread, of long-neck'd cranes stream over casbin and the southern slopes of elburz, from the aralian estuaries, or some frore caspian reed-bed, southward bound for the warm persian sea-board--so they stream'd. the tartars of the oxus, the king's guard, first, with black sheep-skin caps and with long spears; large men, large steeds; who from bokhara come and khiva, and ferment the milk of mares. next, the more temperate toorkmuns of the south, the tukas, and the lances of salore, and those from attruck and the caspian sands; light men and on light steeds, who only drink the acrid milk of camels, and their wells. and then a swarm of wandering horse, who came from far, and a more doubtful service own'd; the tartars of ferghana, from the banks of the jaxartes, men with scanty beards and close-set skull-caps; and those wilder hordes who roam o'er kipchak and the northern waste, kalmucks and unkempt kuzzaks, tribes who stray nearest the pole, and wandering kirghizzes, who come on shaggy ponies from pamere; these all filed out from camp into the plain. matthew arnold gives to the tartar camp tents of lattice-work, thick-piled carpets; to the tartar leaders woollen coats, sandals, and the sheep-skin cap which is still the national head-dress of the bulgarians. more important, in proof of his idea of their civilisation, he credits them with a high sense of chivalry and a faithful regard for facts. _sohrab and rustum_ is, of course, a flight of poetic fancy; but its "local colour" is founded on good evidence. probably the huns, despite the terrors of their name, the echoes of which still come down the corridors of time; despite the awful titles which their leaders won (such as attila, "the scourge of god"), were not on a very much lower plane of civilisation than the goths with whom they fought, or with the other barbarians who tore at the prostrate body of the roman empire. one may see people of very much the same type to-day on the outer edges of islam in some desert quarters; one may see and, if one has such taste for the wild and the free in life as has cunninghame graham, one may admire: there in the sahara the wild old life, the life in which man and the animals seem to be nearer to each other than in the countries where we have changed beasts into meat-producing engines deprived of individuality, still takes its course, as it has done from immemorial time. children respect their parents, wives look at their husbands almost as gods, and at the tent door elders administer what they imagine justice, stroking their long white beards, and as impressed with their judicial functions as if their dirty turbans or ropes of camels' hair bound round their heads, were horse-hair wigs, and the torn mat on which they sit a woolsack or a judge's bench, with a carved wooden canopy above it, decked with the royal arms. thus, when the blue baft-clad, thin, wiry desert-dweller on his lean horse or mangy camel comes into a town, the townsmen look on him as we should look on one of cromwell's ironsides, or on a highlander, of those who marched to derby and set king george's teeth, in pudding time, on edge. the huns' movement from the north-east was the first asiatic invasion of europe since the fall of the persian empire. almost simultaneously with it the saracen first entered from the south, as the ally of the christian emperor against the goths; and another gothic chronicler, ammianus, tells how the saracen warriors inspired also a lively horror in the gothic mind. they came into battle almost naked, and having sprung upon a foe "with a hoarse and melancholy howl, sucked his life-blood from his throat." the saracen of ammianus was the forerunner of the turk, the hun of jordanes, the forerunner of the bulgarian. in neither case, of course, can the gothic chronicler be accepted as an unprejudiced witness. but it is interesting to note how the first warriors from the asiatic steppes impressed their contemporaries! the first effect of the invasion of the country of the goths by the huns was to force the goths to recross the danube and trespass again on roman territory. they sought leave from the emperor valens to do this. a contemporary historian records: the multitude of the scythians escaping from the murderous savagery of the huns, who spared not the life of woman or of child, amounted to not less than 200,000 men of fighting age [besides old men, women, and children]. these, standing upon the river-bank in a state of great excitement, stretched out their hands from afar with loud lamentations, and earnestly supplicated that they might be allowed to cross over the river, bewailing the calamity that had befallen them, and promising that they would faithfully adhere to the imperial alliance if this boon were granted them. [illustration: a woman of thrace, of the shôp tribe, and of macedonia the shôps inhabit the mountain district of sofia] the emperor valens allowed the gothic host to cross the danube into bulgaria and thrace, and having given them shelter, starved them and treated them so harshly and cruelly that they were close to rebellion when another great gothic host, under king fritigern, crossed the danube without leave and came down as far as marcianople (now schumla). here he was entertained at a "friendly" banquet by the roman general lupicinus. but whilst the banquet was in progress disorder arose among the goths and the romans outside the hall. the gothic historians tell: news of this disturbance was brought to lupicinus as he was sitting at his gorgeous banquet, watching the comic performers and heavy with wine and sleep. he at once ordered that all the gothic soldiers, who, partly to do honour to their rank, and partly as a guard to their persons, had accompanied the generals into the palace, should be put to death. thus, while fritigern was at the banquet, he heard the cry of men in mortal agony, and soon ascertained that it proceeded from his own followers shut up in another part of the palace, whom the roman soldiers at the command of their general were attempting to butcher. he drew his sword in the midst of the banqueters, exclaimed that he alone could pacify the tumult which had been raised among his followers, and rushed out of the dining-hall with his companions. they were received with shouts of joy by their countrymen outside; they mounted their horses and rode away, determined to revenge their slaughtered comrades. delighted to march once more under the generalship of one of the bravest of men, and to exchange the prospect of death by hunger for death on the battlefield, the goths at once rose in arms. lupicinus, with no proper preparation, joined battle with them at the ninth milestone from marcianople, was defeated, and only saved himself by a shameful flight. the barbarians equipped themselves with the arms of the slain legionaries, and in truth that day ended in one blow the hunger of the goths and the security of the romans; for the goths began thenceforward to comport themselves no longer as strangers but as inhabitants, and as lords to lay their commands upon the tillers of the soil throughout all the northern provinces. that began a war which inflicted the third great blow on the roman empire--the defeat and death of the emperor valens before adrianople. the goths in this campaign seem to have brought in some of their old enemies, the huns, as allies--pretty clear proof of the contention i have set up that the huns were not such desperate savages; but these asiatics made the war rather more brutal than was usual for those days, without a doubt. theodosius, the younger (son of that brave general who had just won back britain for the roman empire), restored somewhat the roman power in the provinces south of the balkans for a time. but in the year 380 the romans made peace again with the goths, allowing them to settle in bulgaria as well as north of the danube as allies of the roman power. in the latter part of the fourth century and the first half of the fifth century the huns fill the pages of bulgarian history. then came the slavs; and then, in the seventh century, the bulgars, almost certainly a hun tribe, but huns modified by two centuries of time. but the death of valens may be said to have ended the roman empire as a world power. let us retrace our steps a little and give the chief facts as to how a bulgarian empire for a time--a very short time--replaced the roman empire over a great area of the balkan peninsula. chapter iii the scrap-heap of races the historian, rightly, must always march under a banner inscribed "why?" the facts of history bring no real informing to the human mind unless they can be traced to their causes, and thus a chain of events followed link by link to see why some happening was so fruitful in results, and to search for the relation of apparently isolated and accidental incidents. the balkan peninsula has to-day just emerged from a most bloody war. it prepares for another to break out as soon as the exhaustion of the moment has passed. since ever the pages of history were inscribed it has been vexed by savage wars. why? there is an explanation near at hand and clear. in the balkans there is a geographical area, which could house one nation comfortably, and is occupied by the scraps of half a dozen nations. (1) there are the remnants of the turks who at one time threatened the conquest of all europe. back from the walls of vienna they have been driven little by little until now they occupy the toe only of the balkan peninsula. but the days have not far departed when they held almost all the peninsula, and the present smallness of their portion dates back only from 1913. (2) there are the greeks, heirs of the traditions of philip and alexander, and of the old roman empire. for centuries their national but not their racial existence was dormant under the heel of the turk. greek independence was restored recently, and since the war of 1912-1913 has established itself vigorously. (3) there are the roumanians, descendants of the old roman colony of trajan in dacia. (4) there are the bulgars, originally a tartar people coming from the banks of the volga, who entered bulgaria in the seventh century as the normans entered england at a later date, and who mingled with a slav race they found there--at first as conquerors, afterwards becoming the absorbed race. (5) there are the serbs, somewhat akin to the bulgars, whose original home seems to have been that of the don cossacks, who also came into the peninsula in the seventh century. they are of purer slav blood than the bulgars. (6) there are the montenegrins, an off-shoot of the serbs, who in the fourteenth century, when the servian empire fell, took to the hills and maintained their independence. those are the six main racial elements. but there are other scraps of peoples--the albanians, for example, and the macedonians, and tribes of moslem bulgars, and some asiatic elements brought in by the turks. so far, then, the answer to the question, "why are the balkans so often at war?" is easy of answer. given the existence on one peninsula of six different races, four of which have past great traditions of empire, and there is certain to be uneasy house-keeping. but the inquiry has to be pushed further. why is it that this unhappy peninsula should have been made thus a scrap-heap for bits of nations, a refuge for sore-headed remnants of imperial peoples? the answer to that is chiefly geographical. a study of the map will show that when there was a great movement from the north of europe to the south, its easiest line of march was down the valley of the danube along the balkan peninsula. in prehistoric times the peoples around the european shores of the mediterranean brought to accomplishment a very advanced type of civilisation. it owed its foundations to egypt or to the semitic peoples, such as the phoenicians, the tyrians, and the carthaginians, whose race-home was asia minor. whilst this mediterranean civilisation was being shaped in the south--in the north, in the forests or plains along the shores of the baltic and of the north sea, the fecund teutonic people were swelling to a mighty host and overflowing their boundaries. a flood of these people in time came surging south searching for new lands. the natural course of that flood was by the valley of the danube to the balkan peninsula. down that peninsula they cut their path--not without bloodshed one may guess--and founded the grecian civilisation. of this prehistoric movement there is no written evidence; but it is accepted by anthropologists as certain. thus sir harry johnston records, not as a surmise but as a fact: the nordic races, armed with iron or steel swords, spears and arrow-heads, descended on the alpine, iberian, lydian, and aegean peoples of southern europe with irresistible strength. it was iron against bronze, copper, and stone; and iron won the day. prehistoric invasions of the balkan peninsula brought in the fair-haired, blue-eyed greeks, the semi-barbarian conquerors of the mukenaian and minôan kingdoms. tribes nearly allied to the ancient greeks diverged from them in illyria, invaded the italian peninsula, and became the ancestors of the sabines, oscans, latins, etc. the parent ancestral speech of the german tribes about four to five thousand years ago was probably closely approximated in syntax, and in the form and pronunciation of words, to the other progenitors of european aryan languages, especially the lithuanian, slav, greek, and italic dialects. keltic speech was perhaps a little more different owing to its absorption of non-aryan elements; but if we can judge of prehistoric german from what its eastern sister, the gothic language, was like as late as the fifth century b.c., we can, without too much straining of facts, say that the prehistoric greeks, when they passed across hungary into the mountainous regions of the balkans, and equally the early italic invaders of italy, were simply another branch of the teutonic peoples later in separation than the kelts, with whom, however, both the italic and the hellenic tribes were much interwoven.... very english or german in physiognomy were most of the notabilities in the palmy days of greece, to judge by their portrait-busts and the types of male and female beauty most in favour--as far south as cyprus--in the periods when greek art had become realistic and was released from the influence of an aegean standard of beauty. [illustration: sistov, on the danube] the invasion from the north of people flowing south by way of the balkan peninsula began that unhappy area's record of race-struggles and constant warfare. the greek civilisation had scarcely established itself before it was attacked by an asiatic power--persia. again the balkan peninsula was inevitably the scene of the conflict, and such battles as thermopylae and marathon made names to resound for ever in the mouths of men. the peril from persia over, the balkan peninsula, after seeing the struggles between the different greek states for supremacy, was given another great ordeal of blood by philip of macedonia and alexander the great. alexander carried a great invasion from greece into the very heart of asia, but founded no permanent empire. the next phase of balkan history was under the roman power. when the roman strength had reached its zenith and entered upon the curve of decay, it was on the balkan boundaries of the empire that the main attack came. finally, the rulers of the roman empire found it necessary to concentrate their strength close to the point of attack, and the capital was moved from rome to constantinople: the roman empire became the greek empire. thus, as we have seen in the previous chapter, the balkan peninsula was chosen as the arena in which an empire founded in the italian peninsula was to die its long, uneasy death. the fate of this greek empire had been hardly decided when a new racial element came on the scene, and over the tottering empire, already fighting fiercely with bulgar and serb for its small surviving patch of territory, strode the turk in the full flush of his youthful strength, giving the last blow to the rule of the caesars, and threatening all christian europe with conquest. made thus by the fates the cockpit of the great struggles for world-empire, the balkan peninsula was doomed to a bloody history: and the doom has not yet passed away. perhaps it is some unconscious effect on the mind of the pity of this that makes the traveller to the balkans feel so often a sympathy, almost unreasonable in intensity, for the balkan peoples. the balkan acres which they till are home to them. to civilisation those acres are the tournament field for the battles of races and nations. what is now bulgaria was in the days of herodotus inhabited by thracian and illyrian tribes. they were united under the strong hand of philip of macedonia, and bulgaria counts him the first great figure in her confused national history, and makes a claim to be the heir of his macedonian empire. the romans appeared in bulgaria during the period of the second war against carthage. the roman conquest of the balkan country was slow, but shortly before the christian era the roman provinces of moesia and thracia comprised most of what is now bulgaria. in the days of constantine, who removed the capital of his empire to the balkan peninsula, roman civilisation in what is now bulgaria was already being swamped by barbarian invasions. the goths and the huns ravaged the land fiercely without attempting to colonise it. the slavs were invaders of another type. they came to stay. it was at the beginning of the third century that the slavs made their first appearance, and, crossing the danube, began to settle in the great plains between the river and the balkan mountains. later, they went south-wards and formed colonies among the thraco-illyrians, the roumanians, and the greeks. this slav occupation went on for several centuries. in the seventh century of the christian era a hunnish tribe reached the banks of the danube. it is known that this tribe came from the volga and, crossing russia, proceeded towards ancient moesia, where it took possession of the whole north-east territory of the balkans between the danube and the black sea. these were the bulgars, or bolgars. the slavs had already imposed on the races they had found in the peninsula their language and customs. the bulgars, too, assumed the language of the slavs, and some of their customs. the bulgars, however, gave their name to the mixed race, and assumed the political supremacy. the analogy i have before suggested of the norman invasion of england and the bulgar invasion of bulgaria generally holds good. the slavs were a people who tilled the soil, cherished free institutions, fought on foot, were gentle in character. the bulgars were nomads and pastoralists, obeying despotic chiefs, fighting as cavalry. they came as conquerors, but in time were absorbed in the more stable slavonic type. without a doubt the bulgars were racially nearly akin to the turks--first cousins at least. mingling with the slavs they adopted their language and many of their customs. but something of the turk survives to this day in the character of the bulgarian people. it shows particularly in their treatment of their women. though the bulgarian is monogamic he submits his wife to an almost _harem_ discipline. once married she lives for the family alone. though she does not wear a veil in the streets it is not customary for her to go out from her home except with her husband, nor to receive company except in his presence, nor to frequent theatres, restaurants, or other places of public amusement. there is thus no social life in bulgaria in the european sense of the term, and there is great scope there for a campaign for "women's rights." the bulgars taking command over the slav population in bulgaria began a warfare against the enfeebled greek empire. that empire gave up moesia to the bulgarian king, isperich, and agreed to pay him a tribute, it being the custom of the degenerate descendants of the roman empire of the period thus to attempt to buy safety with bribes. the emperor justinian ii. stopped this tribute, and a war followed, in which the bulgarians were successful, and justinian lost his throne and was driven to exile. later, justinian made another treaty with the bulgarians and offered his daughter in marriage to the new bulgarian king, tervel, and with bulgarian help he was restored to his throne. but war between the bulgars and the empire was chronic. to quote a bulgarian chronicler: the chief characteristics of the bulgars were warlike virtues, discipline, patriotism, and enthusiasm. the bulgarian kings brought their victorious armies to the gates of constantinople, whose very existence they threatened. the greek emperor sought their friendship, and even consented to pay them tribute. bulgaria attained her greatest empire in the reign of king kroum. between king isperich and king kroum, however, bulgaria had many ups and downs. the bulgarian king, kormisos, once almost reached the walls of constantinople. but trouble among his own people prevented his victories being pushed home. then a series of civil wars in bulgaria weakened the nation, and a great section of it migrated to asia minor. the roman emperor, constantine v., took this occasion to exact a full revenge for previous bulgar attacks on constantinople. the bulgar army was routed, and an invading force carried the torch into every bulgarian town. a new bulgar king, cerig, restored his country's position somewhat by a secretly plotted massacre of all its enemies within its boundaries. the empress irene then ascended the imperial throne at constantinople and found herself unable to withstand the bulgar power, and went back to the system of paying tribute to the bulgarians as the price of safety. king kroum next ascended the throne of bulgaria and, capable and savage warrior as he was, raised its power vastly. he defeated and slew the greek emperor, nicephorus, in battle, and captured sofia (809), the present capital of bulgaria. warfare was savage in those days, and between the bulgars and the greek emperors particularly savage. the defeated imperial army was massacred to a man, from the emperor down to the foot-soldier. king kroum afterwards used the skull of the descendant of the caesars as a drinking-cup. a siege of constantinople followed the defeat and death of the emperor nicephorus. the bulgars affrighted the defenders of the city by their fierce orgies before the walls, by the human sacrifices they offered up in their sight, and by the resolute refusal of all quarter in the field. the empire tried to buy off the bulgars with the promise of an annual tribute of gold, of cloth, and of young girls. the invaders finally retired with a great booty, and the death of king kroum soon after relieved the anxiety of constantinople. bulgaria seems now (the ninth century) to have suffered again from internal dissensions. these arose mostly out of religious issues. many of the slavs had become christians, and some of the bulgars also adopted the new faith. for a time the kings tried to crush out christianity by persecutions, but in 864 the bulgarian king, boris, adopted christianity--some say converted by his sister, who had been a prisoner of the greeks and was baptized by them. his adherence to christianity was announced in a treaty with the greek emperor, michael iii. some of king boris's subjects kept their affection for paganism and objected to the conversion of their king. following the customs of the time they were all massacred, and bulgaria became thus a wholly christian kingdom. king boris, whom the bulgarians look up to as the actual founder of the bulgarian nation of to-day, hesitated long as to whether he should attach himself and his nation to the roman or to the greek branch of the christian church. he made the issue a matter of close bargaining. the church was sought which was willing to allow to bulgaria the highest degree of ecclesiastical independence, and which seemed to offer as the price of adhesion the greatest degree of political advantage. [illustration: ancient costume of balkan peasant women near gabrovo] at first the greek church would not allow bulgaria to have a patriarch of her own. king boris sent, then, a deputation to pope nicholas at rome, seeking if a better national bargain could be made there. two bishops came over from rome to negotiate. but in time king boris veered back to a policy of attaching himself to the greek church, which now offered bulgaria an archbishop with a rank in the church second only to that of the greek patriarch. in 869 bulgaria definitely threw in her lot with the greek church. curiously those old religious controversies of the ninth century were revived in the nineteenth. bulgaria has a persistent sense of nationalism, and looks upon religion largely in a national sense. in the ninth century her first care in changing her religion was to safeguard national interests. in the nineteenth century the first great concession she wrung from her turkish masters was the setting up (1870) of a bulgarian exarch to be the official head of the bulgarian orthodox church independent of the greek patriarch. a little later in the days of her freedom, when to her roman catholic ruler, king ferdinand, was born a son (named boris after the first christian king of bulgaria), the bulgarians had him transferred in 1896 from the roman to the greek church as a matter of national policy. the controversy to-day between "patriarchate" adherents of the orthodox church--_i.e._ greeks, and the exarchate adherents--_i.e._ bulgarians, is perhaps the most bitter of all balkan controversies. i have found it in places transcending far the religious gap between turk and christian, and in that particularly stormy north macedonian corner of the balkans a patriarchate man gives first place in his hatred to an exarchate man and second place to a turk; and the exarchate man reciprocates in like manner. yet, as the bulgarians insist, "the autonomous orthodox bulgarian church forms an inseparable part of the holy orthodox church." the bulgarian exarchate used to comprise all the bulgarian dioceses in the provinces of the turkish empire, as they were enumerated explicitly or in general terms by the firman of 1870 as well as the dioceses of the bulgarian principality. most of the orthodox bulgarian population in turkey recognise the authority of the exarchate, but some still owe allegiance to the greek patriarchate. what the religious position will be now that the wars of 1912-1913 have changed boundaries so considerably it is hard to say. the exarchate dioceses which used to be in turkish territory but are now in bulgarian territory, will, of course, pass into the main current of bulgarian church life. but those exarchate dioceses which have passed to servia and to greece will probably not find toleration. king boris of bulgaria having raised his country to a great fame, and having endowed it with a national church, retired to a monastery in 888 to make his peace with the next world. his son vladimir succeeded to the throne, but ruled so unwisely that king boris came back from the cloister to depose vladimir and to set in his stead upon the throne simeon, who created the first bulgarian empire. chapter iv bulgaria--a power and a turkish province king simeon reigned in bulgaria thirty-four years, and raised his country during that time to the highest point of power it ever reached. simeon had been educated at constantinople and had learned all that the civilisation of the grecian empire could teach except a love and respect for the grecian rule. he designed the overthrow of the tottering grecian empire, and dreamed of bulgaria as the heir to the power of the caesars. when simeon came to the throne, for many years the grecian empire and bulgaria had been at peace. but a trade grievance soon enabled simeon to enter upon a war against the feeble greek emperor then on the throne in constantinople--leo, known as the philosopher. the grecian forces were defeated and, following the ferocious balkan custom of the times, the grecian prisoners were all mutilated by having their noses cut off, and thus returned to their city. constantinople in desperation appealed for help to the magyars, who had recently burst into europe from the steppes of russia and occupied the land north of the danube. the magyars responded to the appeal, and at first were successful against the bulgars, but king simeon's strategy overcame them in the final stages of the campaign. he took advantage then of the temporary absence of their army in the west, and descended upon their homes in the region now known as bessarabia and massacred all their wives and children. this act of savage cruelty drove the magyars away finally from the danube, and they migrated north and west to found the present kingdom of hungary. relieved of the fear of the magyars, king simeon now attacked the grecian empire again, captured adrianople, and laid siege to constantinople. there were two emperors in the city then, in succession to leo the philosopher--romanus lecapenus and constantine porphyrogenitus. for all the grandeur of their names they rivalled one another in incompetency and timidity. simeon was able to force upon the grecian empire a humiliating peace, which made bulgaria now the paramount power in the balkans, since servia had been already subdued by her arms. from the roman pope, simeon received authority to be called "czar of the bulgarians and autocrat of the greeks." his capital at preslav--now in ruins--was in his time one of the great cities of europe, and a contemporary description of his palace says: if a stranger coming from afar enters the outer court of the princely dwelling, he will be amazed, and ask many a question as he walks up to the gates. and if he goes within, he will see on either side buildings decorated with stone and wainscoted with wood of various colours. and if he goes yet farther into the courtyard he will behold lofty palaces and churches, bedecked with countless stones and wood and frescoes without, and with marble and copper and silver and gold within. such grandeur he has never seen before, for in his own land there are only miserable huts of straw. beside himself with astonishment, he will scarce believe his eyes. but if he perchance espy the prince sitting in his robe covered with pearls, with a chain of coins round his neck and bracelets on his wrists, girt about with a purple girdle and a sword of gold at his side, while on either hand his nobles are seated with golden chains, girdles, and bracelets upon them; then will he answer when one asks him on his return home what he has seen: "i know not how to describe it; only thine own eyes could comprehend such splendour." under simeon, art and literature flourished (in a middle ages sense) in bulgaria; the cyrillic alphabet--still used in russia, bulgaria, and servia--had supplanted the greek alphabet and had added to the growing sense of national consciousness. simeon encouraged the production of books, and tradition credits him with having himself translated into the slav language some of the writings of st. chrysostom. [illustration: a wedding in the rhodopes] but all this bulgarian prosperity had a serious check when simeon died in 927 and the czar peter ascended the throne. scarcely was simeon cold in his grave before internal struggles had begun, owing to the jealousies of some of the nobles and their spirit of adventure. the boyars (knights) of bulgaria had always had great authority. now they took advantage of a monarch who was more suited for the cloister than the court to revive old pretensions to independent power. czar peter turned to the greek empire for help, and sought to strengthen his position at home by a marriage with the grand-daughter of the emperor romanus lecapenus. that policy served until a vigorous greek emperor came to the throne at constantinople and set himself to avenge the victories of simeon. the greek emperor called in the aid of the northern russians against their kinsfolk the bulgarian slavs. there followed a typical balkan year of war. the russians succeeded only too well against the bulgarians, and then the greeks, in fear, joined with the bulgarians to resist their further progress. then the servians took advantage of the war to shake off the bulgarian suzerainty and regain their independence. an opposition party in bulgaria, disgusted with the misfortunes which had befallen their country under peter, added to these misfortunes by a revolt, and seceded to found the kingdom of western bulgaria under the boyar shishman mokar (963). to add to the troubles of the balkans, the bogomil heresy appeared, dividing further the strength of the bulgarian nation. the bogomils were the first of a long series of slavonic fanatics, ancestors in spirit of the doukhobors, the stundists, and the tolstoyans of our days, preaching the hermit life as the only truly holy one, forbidding marriage as well as war and the eating of meat. it was with such dissensions among the christian states of the balkans that the way was prepared for the coming of the turk to the peninsula. in 969 boris ii. followed peter on the bulgarian throne. he was faced by a new russian invasion and by an attack from czar david of western bulgaria. this latter attack he beat off, but was overwhelmed before the tide of russian invasion and himself captured in battle. the russians passed over bulgaria to attack constantinople, and that brought the greeks into line with the bulgarians to resist the invader. the emperor john zemissius made bold war upon the russians, and captured from them their bulgarian prisoner, the czar boris ii. the greek emperor made no magnanimous use of his victory. he deposed the bulgarian czar and the bulgarian patriarch, emasculated the czar's brother, and turned bulgaria into a greek province. only in the rebel province of west bulgaria did bulgarian independence at this time survive, and from that province there arose in time a deliverer, the czar samuel, who was the fourth son of that boyar shishman who founded the western bulgarian kingdom. at the beginning of his reign, in 976, samuel had control only over the territory which is now known as macedonia, but soon he united to it all the old empire of bulgaria, and stretched the sway of his race over much of the land which is now comprised in albania, greece, and servia. he began, then, a stern war with the greek emperor, basil ii., known to history as "the bulgar-slayer," against whom is alleged a cruelty horrible even for the balkans. capturing a bulgarian army of over 10,000 men, basil ii. had all the soldiers blinded, leaving to each of their centurions, however, one eye, so that the mutilated men might be led back to their own country. a realistically horrible picture in the sofia national gallery commemorates this classic horror. the war between the czar samuel and the emperor basil ii. was marked by fluctuating fortunes. at first the bulgarians were altogether successful, and in 981 basil was so completely defeated that for fifteen years he was obliged to leave samuel as the real master of the balkan peninsula. then the tide turned. near thermopylae, samuel was decisively defeated by the greeks, and soon after found his empire reduced to the dimensions of albania and west macedonia. war troubles that the greeks had with asia brought to the czar samuel a brief respite, but a campaign in 1014--this was the one marked by the blinding of the captive bulgarian army--shattered finally his power. he died that year heart-broken, it is said, at the sight of the return of his blinded army. thus, to quote a bulgarian chronicle: in 1015 bulgaria was brought to subjection. a new state of things began for the bulgarians, who till then had never felt the control of an enemy. the people longed for liberty, and there were many attempts at revolt. towards 1186, two brothers, john and peter assen, raised a revolt and succeeded in re-establishing the ancient kingdom, choosing as capital tirnova, their native town. it was then that tirnova became what it still remains, the historic town of bulgaria. the reign of john and peter assen was a brilliant time for bulgaria. art and literature flourished as never before, and commerce developed to a considerable extent. once more the bulgarian empire was respected and feared abroad. but this bulgarian empire was doomed to as short a life as its predecessor, though for a brief while it held out the illusionary hope of permanency. bulgaria, from the danube to the rhodope mountains, was won from the greeks, and john assen was powerful enough to dream of entering into alliance with the emperor frederick barbarossa. an assassin's sword, however, ended john assen's life prematurely. he was followed on the throne by his brother peter. he, too, was assassinated, and was succeeded by his brother kalojan, who had all the warlike virtues of john assen, and re-established the bulgarian empire with territories which embraced more than half the whole balkan peninsula. seeking to add to the reality of power some validity of title, kalojan entered into negotiations with the pope of rome, made his submission to the roman church, and was crowned by a papal nuncio as king. it was about this time that constantinople was captured by the crusaders, and count baldwin of flanders ascended the throne of the caesars. the greeks, driven from their capital but still holding some territory, made an alliance with kalojan, and once again greek and bulgar fought side by side, defeating the franks and taking the emperor baldwin prisoner. then the alliance ended--never, it seems, can bulgar and greek be long at peace--and a war raged between the greek empire and bulgaria, until in 1207 kalojan was assassinated. a brief period of prosperity continued for bulgaria while john assen ii. was on the throne. he was the most civilised and humane of all the rulers of ancient bulgaria, and there is no stain of a massacre or a murder remembered against his name. he made wars reluctantly, but always successfully. an inscription in a church at tirnova records his prowess: in the year 1230, i, john assen, czar and autocrat of the bulgarians, obedient to god in christ, son of the old assen, have built this most worthy church from its foundations, and completely decked it with paintings in honour of the forty holy martyrs, by whose help, in the 12th year of my reign, when the church had just been painted, i set out to roumania to the war and smote the greek army and took captive the czar theodore komnenus with all his nobles. and all lands have i conquered from adrianople to durazzo, the greek, the albanian, and the servian land. only the towns round constantinople and that city itself did the franks hold; but these too bowed themselves beneath the hand of my sovereignty, for they had no other czar but me, and prolonged their days according to my will, as god had so ordained. for without him no word or work is accomplished. to him be honour for ever. amen. john assen ii. was a great administrator as well as a great soldier. whilst he declared the church of bulgaria independent, repudiating alike the churches of rome and of constantinople, he tolerated all religions and gave sound encouragement to education. with his death passed away the last of the glory of ancient bulgaria. her story now was to be of almost unrelieved misfortune until the culminating misery of the turkish conquest. internal dissensions, wars with the venetians, the hungarians, the serbs, the greeks, the tartars,--all these vexed bulgaria. the country became subject for a time to the tartars, then recovered its independence, then came under the dominion of servia after the battle of kostendil (1330). the servians, closely akin by blood, proved kind conquerors, and for some years the two slav peoples of the balkans kept peace by a common policy in which bulgaria, if dependent, was not enslaved. but the turk was rapidly pouring into europe. in 1366 the bulgarian czar, sisman iii., agreed to become the vassal of the turkish sultan murad, and the centuries of subjection to the turk began. after the battle of kossovo the grip of the turk on bulgaria was tightened. tirnova was captured, the nobles of the nation massacred, the national freedom obliterated. the desire for independence barely survived. but there was one happy circumstance: "it is a noteworthy fact," writes a bulgarian authority, "that the osmanlis, being themselves but little civilised, did not attempt to assimilate the bulgarians in the sense in which civilised nations try to effect the intellectual and ethnic assimilation of a subject race. except in isolated cases, where bulgarian girls or young men were carried off and forced to adopt mohammedanism, the government never took any general measures to impose mohammedanism or assimilate the bulgarians to the moslems. the turks prided themselves on keeping apart from the bulgarians, and this was fortunate for our nationality. contented with their political supremacy and pleased to feel themselves masters, the turks did not trouble about the spiritual life of the _rayas_, except to try to trample out all desires for independence. all these circumstances contributed to allow the bulgarian people, crushed and ground down by the turkish yoke, to concentrate and preserve their own inner spiritual life. they formed religious communities attached to the churches. these had a certain amount of autonomy, and, beside seeing after the churches, could keep schools. the national literature, full of the most poetic melancholy, handed down from generation to generation and developed by tradition, still tells us of the life of the bulgarians under the ottoman yoke. in these popular songs, the memory of the ancient bulgarian kingdom is mingled with the sufferings of the present hour. the songs of this period are remarkable for the oriental character of their tunes, and this is almost the sole trace of moslem influence. "in spite of the vigilance of the turks, the religious associations served as centres to keep alive the national feeling. at the beginning of the nineteenth century, when russia declared war against turkey (1827), bulgaria awoke." from 1366 to 1827 bulgaria had been enslaved by the turk. now within the space of a few days and with hardly an effort on her own behalf, she was suddenly to be restored to independence. [illustration: roustchouk, on the danube] chapter v the liberation of bulgaria significantly enough, the first sign of a renaissance of bulgarian national feeling was an agitation not against the turks but the greeks. patriotic bulgarians, under the sublime porte, sought to re-establish their old national church and shake it free from its subjection to the greek patriarch at constantinople. the sublime porte was induced to look upon this demand with favour. a step which promised to emphasise the divisions between the christians evidently should be of advantage to the turks. the greek patriarch was urged to consent to the appointment of a bulgarian bishop. he refused. in the face of that refusal turkey acted as the creator of a new christian church, and in 1870 a firman of the sultan created the bulgarian exarchate, and bulgaria had again a national ecclesiastical organisation. two years later the first exarch was elected by the bulgarian clergy. but gratitude for this religious concession did not extinguish the longings for political independence of the bulgarian people. when a christian insurrection broke out in herzegovina against turkey in 1875, the bulgarian patriots rose in arms in different parts of their country. the massacres of batak were the turkish response, those "bulgarian atrocities" which sent a shudder through all europe and set a term to turkish rule over the christian populations in her european provinces. i have been recently in the balkans with the veteran war artist, mr. frederick villiers, who has personal recollections of those times of massacre and atrocity. speaking with him, an eye-witness of the devastation then wrought, it was possible to understand the fierce indignation with which the english-speaking world was stirred as the details of the horrors in the balkans were unveiled. in all about 12,000 bulgarian people perished, mostly butchered in cold blood. turkish anger, it seems, was inflamed against the bulgarians, because, in spite of the recent church concession, some of them had dared to strike for freedom; and this display of turkish anger made the full freedom of bulgaria certain. [illustration: "mystery"--a study in the roustchouk district] at first an attempt had been made by the powers to exert peaceful pressure upon turkey, so that her christian provinces should be granted local autonomy. the project of the powers for bulgaria proposed that the districts inhabited by bulgarians should be divided into two provinces; the eastern province, with tirnovo as capital, was to include the sandjaks of roustchouk, tirnovo, toultcha, varna, sliven, philippopolis (not including sultan-eri and ahi-tchélebi), the kazas of kirk kilisse, mustapha pasha and kasilagatch; and the western province, with sofia as capital, the sandjaks of sofia, vidin, nisch, uskub, monastir, the three kazas of the north of sérès, and the kazas of stroumitza, tikvesch, velès, and kastoria. districts of from five to ten thousand inhabitants were to stand as the administrative unit. christian and mohammedans were to be settled homogeneously in these districts. each district was to have at its head a mayor and a district council, elected by universal suffrage, and was to enjoy entire autonomy as regards local affairs. several districts would form a sandjak with a prefect at its head who was to be christian or mohammedan, according to the majority of the population of the sandjak. he would be proposed by the governor-general, and nominated by the porte for four years. finally, every two sandjaks were to be administered by a christian governor-general nominated by the porte for five years, with consent of the powers. he would govern the province with the help of a provincial assembly, composed of representatives chosen by the district councils for a term of four years, at the rate of one deputy to thirty or forty thousand inhabitants. this assembly would nominate an administrative council of ten members. the provincial assembly would be summoned every year to decide the budget and the taxes. the armed force was to be concentrated in the towns and there would be local militia beside. the language of the predominant nationality was to be employed, as well as turkish. finally, a commission of international control was to supervise the working of these proposals. the porte promised reforms on these lines, but did not go beyond promising. the task of forcing her to end a cruel tyranny was one for the battlefield. the russo-turkish war broke out on april 12, 1877, and what turkey had refused to yield of her own accord was wrested from her by force of arms, in the preliminary treaty of san stefano. by this treaty, bulgaria was made an autonomous principality subject to turkey, with a christian government and national militia. the prince of bulgaria was to be freely chosen by the bulgarian people and accepted by the sublime porte, with the consent of the powers. it was agreed that an assembly of notables, presided over by a russian commissioner and attended by a turkish commissioner, should meet at philippopolis or tirnovo before the election of the prince to draw up a constitutional statute similar to those of the other danubian principalities agreed to after the treaty of adrianople in 1830. the treaty of san stefano brought into being on paper a bulgaria greater in area than the bulgaria of 1912, and greater even than the bulgaria of 1914. but the treaty was not ratified. other european powers, alarmed at the prospect of russia becoming supreme in the balkans through the aid of a bulgarian vassal state, interfered, and the congress of berlin substituted for the treaty of san stefano the treaty of berlin. the treaty of berlin provided: bulgaria is to be an independent principality, subject to the sultan, with a christian government and a national militia; the prince of bulgaria will be freely chosen by the bulgarian nation and accepted by the sublime porte, with the approval of the great powers; no member of a reigning european family can be elected prince of bulgaria; in case of a vacancy of the throne the election will be repeated under the same conditions and with the same forms; before the election of the prince, an assembly of notables will decide on the constitutional statute of the principality at tirnovo. the laws will be based on principles of civil and religious liberty. by the treaty of berlin the boundaries of bulgaria were very greatly curtailed as compared with those of the treaty of san stefano, shrinking from an area as great almost as the bulgarian empire of simeon down to a broad band of territory running between eastern roumelia and roumania. [illustration: a blind beggar woman] but the bulgars kept the treaty of san stefano rather than the treaty of berlin before their eyes as their national charter. almost from the first there were encroachments upon the provisions of the treaty of berlin. its limitations of bulgarian sovereignty were ignored little by little. eastern roumelia was united to bulgaria proper by a bold and well-timed stroke. another occasion was sought to get rid of the tribute to turkey, and from a prince, subject to a suzerain, the ruler of bulgaria became a czar, responsible to none but his subjects. finally, when the war of 1912 against turkey was entered upon to liberate further christian provinces from the rule of the turk, the bulgarian people, if not the bulgarian rulers, had clearly before their eyes the vision of the bulgaria of the san stefano treaty. at one time it seemed as if that fond hope would be realised. but misfortunes and mistakes intervened, and as a final result of that and succeeding wars bulgaria has been left with a comparatively small accession of territory, and is not much better off than she was in 1912. it is not my purpose to attempt any detailed history of bulgaria. i have designed, rather, an indication in broad outline of her national growth as a basis for, and an introduction to, an intimate picture of the country as it is to-day. all that is needed, then, to add to this chapter regarding the liberation of bulgaria, is that after the treaty of berlin had been ratified, the first task that faced the principality of bulgaria was to make it clear to russia that, whilst she was grateful for the aid which had enabled her to become independent, she aspired to a real independence, and did not wish to exchange one master for another. the task was difficult, and caused some early trouble for the revived nation. [illustration: a young married shôp woman] the first prince chosen to be monarch of bulgaria was prince alexander of battenberg, a brave soldier but an indifferent statesman. he offended in turn both the bulgarian patriots who wished him to lead their country to a complete freedom, and the russians who would have her kept under a kind of tutelage to the "little father." still bulgaria, in his reign, made notable advances towards her national ideals. in 1885, obedient to the earnest wish of its inhabitants, eastern roumelia was incorporated with bulgaria as a united principality, and that much of the treaty of berlin torn up. turkey, whose rights were chiefly affected, decided not to make war upon this issue. the great powers, other than russia, which had insisted, in the first instance, on the separation of bulgaria into bulgaria proper and eastern roumelia because they feared that bulgaria would be a mere appanage of russia and would in actual effect bring the russian frontier so much nearer to constantinople, were now fairly reassured on that point. they not only made no protest, but they prevented greece from doing so. there remained to be reckoned with only russia and servia. russia showed her displeasure by recalling every russian officer then serving with the bulgarian army; but she did not make war. servia, fearful that this bulgarian aggrandisement jeopardised her own future in the balkans, made war. prince alexander took the field with his troops--made up of bulgarians, macedonians, and turks living in bulgaria--and in the battle of slivnitza bulgaria won a decisive victory. she was not allowed to reap any direct fruits from it, as austria interfered on behalf of servia. the treaty of bucharest made peace without penalty to servia, and bulgaria was left with a greatly enhanced prestige as her sole reward. it was a sad sequel to prince alexander's courage and address in this campaign that the next year he was deposed by a conspiracy in which the moving figures were the chiefs of the pro-russian party in bulgaria. the majority of the bulgarians were not friendly to this revolution, and after the kidnapping of the prince by the rebels a counter-revolution under stambuloff would have restored him to the throne had it not been for the fact that he was irresolute in council though brave in the field. he could have won back his crown, but chose rather to surrender it to russia. for some time after it was difficult to find a prince for bulgaria. the crown was offered in turn to prince waldemar of denmark and king carol of roumania. finally, prince ferdinand of saxe-coburg-gotha consented to embark on the great adventure of ruling bulgaria. wealthy, descended from the old french royal house on his mother's side, and connected with the austrian and german royal houses on his father's, handsome and youthful, prince ferdinand had splendid qualifications for his new responsibility. he showed, too, from the outset, a fine diplomatic skill and successfully steered his country through the perilous days which followed his accession. russia at first refused to sanction the choice of him as prince, and that involved the other powers in a policy of refusing him "recognition." he was thus, in a sense, a boycotted monarch. with steady and patient skill prince ferdinand worked to overcome the obstacles which stood in the way of bulgarian national aspirations, aided much by the masterful statesmanship of stambuloff. a good understanding was come to with turkey, still bulgaria's suzerain power, and in 1890 turkey made the important concession to bulgaria of appointing bulgarian bishops in macedonia. in 1893 prince ferdinand married princess marie louise of parma, and the next year an heir was born to them, prince boris. a reconciliation with russia followed. [illustration: a bulgarian market town] bulgaria now made steady and peaceful progress, the only cloud on her sky the sorrows of her co-religionists in macedonia. in 1908 advantage was taken of the "young turk" revolution in turkey for the bulgarian prince to denounce all allegiance to turkey, and bulgaria was declared fully independent and ferdinand was crowned at tirnovo as czar of the bulgarians. turkey was not able to protest, and her confessed weakness nourished to powerful strength the general desire of the christian peoples in the balkans to free their co-religionists in thrace and macedonia from the rule of the moslem. "the balkan league" was formed, and bulgaria, greece, montenegro, and servia prepared to force from turkey by war what the great powers had so far failed to secure by diplomacy--the relief of macedonia from oppression and misrule. it was during the war of 1912-1913 that i had an opportunity of studying the bulgarian people at close hand, as i accompanied the bulgarian forces as war correspondent. chapter vi the war of 1912-1913 i can still recollect the glad surprise which a first sight of sofia gave to me. with the then conventional view of the balkan states, i had expected, on leaving buda-pesth, to cut away altogether from civilisation. paved streets; solid and good, if not exactly handsome, buildings; first-class hotels and cafés; electric trams and comfortable, cheap cabs; luxurious public baths; well-stocked stores; a telephone system, water-supply, drainage--each one of these was a surprise. i had expected a semi-barbaric eastern town. i found a modern capital, small but orderly, clean, and well managed. that enthusiastic friend of the balkan nationalities, mr. noel buxton, m.p., writing of sofia and other balkan capitals, becomes quite lyrical in his praise: "their capitals," he writes, "have at all times an aspect of reality, industry, and simplicity. there is little needless wealth to show, and nothing which, in the west, would be called luxury. every one is a worker, and every one a serious politician. there are no drones, and none who spend their lives in the pleasures, refinements, luxuries, vices, the idle amusements of the great cities of europe. the buildings represent utility, means fairly adapted to ends, but with no cumbrous decoration or ponderous display. these capitals are bureaucratic settlements, devoted to the deliberate ends of national government with a minimum of waste, strictly appropriated to use alone, rendering their service to the nation as a counting-house renders its service to a great factory. peasants walk their streets in brilliant village dresses. no one thinks a rational country costume inappropriate to the pavement of the capital. this is an index to the idea of purpose which pervades the town; there is none of the sense that a different costume is needed for urban life, an idea which arises from the association of towns with pleasure and display. [illustration: blessing the lamb on st. george's day] "few sights can be more inspiring to the lover of liberty and national progress than a view of sofia from the hill where the great seminary of the national church overlooks the plain. there at your feet is spread out the unpretentious seat of a government which stands for the advance of european order in lands long blighted with barbarism. here resides, and is centred, the virile force of a people which has advanced the bounds of liberty. from here, symbolised by the rivers and roads running down on each side, has extended, and will further extend, the power of modern education, of unhampered ideas, of science and of humanity. from this magnificent view-point sofia stretches along the low hill with the dark background of the balkan beyond. against that background now stands out the new embodiment of bulgarian and slavonic energy, genius, and freedom of mind, the great cathedral, with its vast golden domes brilliantly standing out from the shade behind them. in no other capital is a great church shown to such effect, viewed from one range of hills against the mountainous slopes of another. it is a building which, with its marvellous mural paintings, would in any capital form an object of world interest, but which, in the capital of a tiny peasant state, supremely embodies that breadth of mind which "... rejects the lore of nicely calculated less or more." i confess humbly that i could not see all that in sofia. but the city was a welcome surprise, recalling turin in its situation beneath a great range of mountains, in its size and its general disposition. with closer acquaintance, which came to me during the armistice that followed the first phase of the war, sofia showed as still clean, well managed, admirable, but, oh, so deadly dull. the system of partial seclusion of the women-folk kills all social life, and the absence of a feminine element in the restaurants and other places of social resort deprives them of all convivial charm. one could eat, drink, work in sofia, and that was all. coming first to sofia just as war had been declared, i was struck by the evidence of the exceedingly careful preparation that the bulgarians had made for the struggle. this was no unexpected or sudden war; they had known for some time that war was inevitable; for they had made up their minds for quite a considerable time that the wrongs of their fellow-nationals in macedonia and thrace would have to be righted by force of arms. attempts on the part of the powers to enforce reforms in the christian provinces of turkey had, in the opinion of the bulgars, been absolute failures. in their opinion there was nothing to hope for except armed intervention on their part against turkey. and, believing that, they had made most careful preparation, extending over several years, for this struggle. that preparation was in every sense admirable. for instance, it had extended, i gathered from informants in bulgaria, to this degree, that they formed military camps in winter for the training of their troops. thus they did not train solely in the most favourable time of the year for manoeuvres, but in the unfavourable weather too, in case that time should prove favourable for their war. i think the standard of their artillery arm, and the evidence of the scientific training of their officers, prove to what extent their training beforehand had gone. most of the officers in high command i met at the front had been trained at the military college at st. petrograd, some of them at the military college at turin, and others again at a military college which had been established at sofia. of this last-named the head was colonel jostoff, who was chief-of-staff to general demetrieff (the great conquering general of this war), and a singularly able soldier. he was the chief professor of the military college at sofia, and judging by the standard he set, the military college must have reached a high degree of efficiency. [illustration: the cathedral, sofia] the balkan league having been formed, and the time being ripe for the war, bulgaria was quite determined that war should be. the turks at that time were inclined to make reforms and concessions; they had an inclination to ease the pressure on their christian subjects in the christian provinces. perhaps knowing--perhaps not knowing--that they were unready for war themselves, but feeling that the balkan states were preparing for war, the turks were undoubtedly willing to make great concessions. but whatever concessions the turks might have offered, war would still have taken place. i do not think one need offer any harsh criticism about a nation coming to such a decision as that. if you have made your preparation for war--perhaps a very expensive preparation, perhaps a preparation which has involved very great commitments apart from expense--it is not reasonable to suppose that at the last moment you will consent to stop that war. i was much struck with the wonderful value to the bulgarian generals of the fact that the whole bulgarian nation was filled with the martial spirit--was, in a sense, wrapped up in the colours. every male bulgarian citizen was trained to the use of arms. every bulgarian citizen of fighting age was engaged either at the front or on the lines of communication. before the war, every bulgarian man, being a soldier, was under a soldier's honour; and the preliminaries of the war, the preparations for mobilisation in particular, were carried out with a degree of secrecy that, i think, astonished every court and every military department in europe. the secret was so well kept that one of the diplomatists in roumania left for a holiday three days before the declaration of war, feeling certain that there was to be no war. bulgaria has a newspaper press that, on ordinary matters, for delightful irresponsibility, might be matched in london. yet not a single whisper of what the nation was designing and planning leaked abroad. because the whole nation was a soldier, and the whole nation was under a soldier's honour, absolute secrecy could be kept. no one abroad knew anything, either from the babbling of "pro-turks," or from the newspapers, that this great campaign was being designed by bulgaria. the secret service of bulgaria before the war had evidently been excellent. they seemed to know all that was necessary to know about the country in which they were going to fight; and i think this very complete knowledge of theirs was in part responsible for the arrangements which were made between the balkan allies for carrying on the war. the bulgarian people had made up their minds to do the lion's share of the work and to have the lion's share of the spoils, for the bulgarian people knew the state of corruption and rottenness to which the turkish nation had come. when i reached sofia, the bulgarians told me they were going to be in constantinople three weeks after the declaration of war. that was the view that they took of the possibilities of the campaign. and they kept their programme as far as chatalja fairly closely. having declared war, the bulgarians invaded turkey along two main lines, by the railway which passed through adrianople to constantinople and by the wild mountain passes of the north between yamboli and kirk kilisse. there was great enterprise shown in this second line of advance and it was responsible for all the great victories won. taking kirk kilisse by surprise the bulgarian forces kept the turkish vanguard on the run until lule burgas, where the turkish main army made a stand and the decisive battle of the campaign was fought. the turks were utterly routed and fled in confusion towards constantinople by tchorlu. had an enterprising pursuit on the part of the bulgarians been possible, the bulgarian army undoubtedly would have then entered constantinople and the christmas mass would have been said at st. sophia. but the strength of the bulgarian attack was exhausted by the tremendous exertions of marching and fighting which they had already made and a long pause to recuperate was necessary. that pause enabled the turks to re-marshal their forces and to make a stand at the fortified lines of chatalja some twenty miles as the crow flies from constantinople. against those lines a bulgarian attack was finally launched, but too late. the entrenched turks were strong enough to withstand the attack of the bulgarian forces. my diary of these three critical days of the campaign reads: ermenikioi (headquarters of the third bulgarian army), _november 17 (sunday)._ the battle of chatalja has been opened. to-day, general demetrieff rode out with his staff to the battlefield whilst the bells of a christian church in this little village rang. the day was spent in artillery reconnaissance, the bulgarian guns searching the turkish entrenchments to discover their real strength. only once during the day was the infantry employed; and then it was rather to take the place of artillery than to complete the work begun by artillery. it seems to me that the bulgarian forces have not enough big gun ammunition at the front. they are ten days from their base and shells must come up by ox-waggon the greater part of the way. ermenikioi, _november 18._ this was a wild day on the chatalja hills. driving rain and mist swept over from the black sea, and at times obscured all the valley across which the battle raged. with but slight support from the artillery the bulgarian infantry was sent again and again up to the turkish entrenchments. once a fort was taken but had to be abandoned again. the result of the day's fighting is indecisive. the bulgarian forces have driven in the turkish right flank a little, but have effected nothing against the central positions which bar the road to constantinople. it is clear that the artillery is not well enough supplied with ammunition. there is a sprinkle of shells when there should be a flood. gallant as is the infantry it cannot win much ground faced by conditions such as the light brigade met at balaclava. ermenikioi, _november 19._ operations have been suspended. yesterday's cold and bitter weather has fanned to an epidemic the choleraic dysentery which had been creeping through the trenches. the casualties in the fighting had been heavy. "but for every wounded man who comes to the hospitals," colonel jostoff, the chief of the staff, tells me, "there are ten who say 'i am ill.'" the bulgarians recognise bitterly that in their otherwise fine organisation there has been one flaw, the medical service. among this nation of peasant proprietors--sturdy, abstemious, moral, living in the main on whole-meal bread and water--illness was so rare that the medical service was but little regarded. up to chatalja confidence in the rude health of the peasants was justified. they passed through cold, hunger, fatigue and kept healthy. but ignorant of sanitary discipline, camped among the filthy turkish villages, the choleraic dysentery passed from the turkish trenches to theirs. there are 30,000 cases of illness and the healthy for the first time feel fear as they see the torments of the sick. the bulgarians recognise that there must be a pause in the fighting whilst the hospital and sanitary service is reorganised. there was this check, mainly because, in an otherwise perfect system of training, sanitation had been overlooked. from a military point of view, of course, it was almost impossible in any case that the bulgarian army should have forced the chatalja lines without a railway line to bring up ammunition from their base. it was, however, an army which had been accustomed to do the impossible. but for the cholera i believe it might have got through to the walls of constantinople. during the latter part of 1913 there was a chorus of unstinted praise in europe of bulgarian strategy. candidly i cannot agree entirely with some of the views then expressed, which, to me, seem to have been inspired not so much by a study of the bulgarian strategy, as by admiration of the wonderful heroism and courage of the soldiers. at the outset bulgarian generalship was exceedingly good; the reconnaissance phase of the campaign was carried through perfectly. in that the soldier was assisted by the perfect discipline of the nation, which allowed a cheerful obedience to the most exacting demands and absolute secrecy. but it seemed to me that at the stage when the battle of lule burgas had been fought and won, there was a very serious mistake. (i am not writing now in the light of the ultimate result, for i expressed this view to mr. prior, of the london _times_, in voyaging with him from mustapha pasha to stara zagora in november 1913.) there was a very serious mistake in the policy of "masking" adrianople. i have reasons for thinking that that was not the original plan of the soldiers. their strategy was, in the first instance, to deceive the turks as to where the blow was to come from. and in that they succeeded admirably. no one knew where the main attack on the frontier would be made. it was made unexpectedly at kirk kilisse, when all expectation was that it would be made through mustapha pasha and towards adrianople. but after that period of secrecy, when the main attack developed, and the turks knew where the bulgarian forces were, it seemed to me it was a great mistake for the bulgarian army to push on as they did, leaving adrianople in their rear. [illustration: an adrianople street over the roofs, the spiral minaret of bourmali jami, white marble and red granite] it was not merely that adrianople was a fortress, but it was a fortress which straddled their one line of communication. the railway from sofia to constantinople passed through adrianople. except for that railway there was no other railroad, and there was no other carriage road, one might say, for the turk did not build roads. once you were across the turkish frontier you met with tracks, not roads. the effect of leaving adrianople in the hands of the enemy was that supplies for the army in the field coming from bulgaria could travel by one of two routes. they could come through yamboli to kirk kilisse, or they could come through novi zagora to mustapha pasha by railway, and then to kirk kilisse around adrianople. from kirk kilisse to the rail-head at seleniki, close to chatalja, they could come not by railway but by a tramway, a very limited railway. if adrianople had fallen, the railway would have been open. the bulgarian railway service had, i think, something over one hundred powerful locomotives at the outset of the war, and whilst it was a single line in places, it was an effective line right down to as near constantinople as they could get. but, adrianople being in the hands of the enemy, supplies coming from yamboli had to travel to kirk kilisse by track, mostly by bullock wagon, and that journey took five, six, or seven days. the british army medical detachment travelling over that road took six days. if one took the other road one got to mustapha pasha comfortably by railway. and then it was necessary to use bullock or horse transport from mustapha pasha to kirk kilisse. that journey i took twice; once with an ox-wagon, and afterwards with a set of fast horses, and the least period for the journey was five days. from kirk kilisse there was a line of light railway joining the main line. but on that line the bulgarians had only six engines, and, i think, thirty-two carriages; so that, for practical purposes, the railway was of very little use indeed past mustapha pasha. whilst adrianople was in the hands of the enemy, the bulgarians had practically no line of communication. my reason for believing that it was not the original plan of the generals to leave adrianople "masked" is, that in the first instance i have a fairly high opinion of the generals, and i do not think they could have designed that; but i think rather it was forced upon them by the politicians saying, "we must hurry through, we must attempt something, no matter how desperate it is, something decisive." but, apart from the high opinion i have of the bulgarian generals, the fact remains that after adrianople had been attacked in a very half-hearted way, and after the main bulgarian army had pushed on to the lines of chatalja, the bulgarians called in the aid of a servian division to help them against adrianople. i am sure they would not have done that if it had not been their wish to subdue adrianople. the position of the bulgarian army on the lines of chatalja with adrianople in the hands of the enemy was this, that it took practically their whole transport facilities to keep the army supplied with food, and there was no possibility of keeping the army properly supplied with ammunition. so if the bulgarian generals had really designed to carry the lines of chatalja without first attacking adrianople, they miscalculated seriously. but i do not think they did. it was probably a plan forced upon them by political authority, feeling that the war must be pushed to a conclusion somehow. why the bulgarians did not take adrianople quickly in the first place is, i think, to be explained simply by the fact that they could not. but if their train of sappers had been of the same kind of stuff as their field artillery, they could have taken adrianople in the first week of the war. the bulgarians had no effective siege-train. a press photographer at mustapha pasha was very much annoyed because photographs he had taken of guns passing through the towns were not allowed to be sent through to his paper. he sent a humorous message to his editor, that he could not send photographs of guns, "it being a military secret that the bulgarians had any guns." but the reason the bulgarians did not want photographs taken was that these guns were practically useless for the purpose for which they were intended. the main excellence of the bulgarian army was its infantry, which was very steady under punishment, admirably disciplined, perfect in courage, and which had, i think, that supreme merit in infantry, that it always wanted to get to work with the bayonet. the bulgarian soldiers had a joke among themselves. the order for "bayonets forward!" was, as near as i could get it, "_nepret nanochi_." arguing by similarity of sound, the bulgarian soldier affected to believe it meant "spit five men on your bayonet." it was the common camp saying that it was the duty of the infantryman to impale five turks on his bayonet, to show that he had conducted himself well. the bulgarian infantrymen had devised a little "jim" in regard to bayonet work, which i had not heard of being used in war before. when they were in the trenches, and the order was expected to fix bayonets, they had a habit of fixing them, or rather pretending to, with a tremendous rattle, on which signal the turks would often leave their trenches and run, expecting the bayonet charge; but the bulgarians still stuck to their trenches, and got in another volley. the artillery work of the bulgarians was very good indeed; they had an excellent field-piece, practically the same field-piece as the french army. their work was very fine with regard to aim and to the bursting of shrapnel, and their firing from concealed positions was also good. but i never saw enterprising work on their part; i never saw them go into the open, except during a brief time at chatalja. they seemed to dig themselves in behind the crest of a hill, where they could fire, unobserved by the enemy. now, with regard to the conduct of the troops. much has been said about outrages in this war. i believe that in macedonia, where irregular troops were at work, outrages were frequent on both sides; but in my observation of the main army there was a singular lack of any excess. the war, as i saw it, was carried out by the bulgarians under the most humane possible conditions. at chundra bridge i was walking across country, and i had separated myself from my cart. i arrived at the bridge at eight o'clock at night, and found a vedette on guard. they took me for a turk. i had on english civilian green puttees, and green was the colour of the turks. it was a cold night, and i wished to take refuge at the camp fire, waiting for my cart to come. though they thought i was a turk, they allowed me to stay at their camp fire for two hours. then an officer who could speak french appeared, and i was safe; the men attempted in no way to molest me during those two hours. they made signs as of cutting throats, and so on, but they were doing it humorously, and they showed no intention to cut mine. yet i was there irregularly, and i could not explain to them how i came to be there. the extraordinary simplicity of the commissariat helped the bulgarian generals a great deal. the men had bread and cheese, sometimes even bread alone; and that was accounted a satisfactory ration. when meat and other things could be obtained, they were obtained; but there were long periods when the bulgarian soldier had nothing but bread and water. (the water, unfortunately, he took wherever he could get it, by the side of his route at any stream he could find. there was no attempt to ensure a pure water supply for the army.) i do not think that without the simplicity of commissariat it would have been possible for the bulgarian forces to have got as far as they did. there was an entire absence of tinned foods. if you travelled in the trail of the bulgarian army, you found it impossible to imagine that an army had passed that way; because there was none of the litter which is usually left by an army. it was not that they cleared away their rubbish with them; it simply did not exist. their bread and cheese seemed to be a good fighting diet. the transport was, naturally, the great problem which faced the generals. i have already said something about the extreme difficulty of that transport. i have seen at seleniki, which is the point at which the rail-head was, within thirty miles of constantinople as the crow flies, ox-wagons, which had come from the shipka pass, in the north of bulgaria. i asked one driver how long he had been on the road; he told me three weeks. he was carrying food down to the front. the way the ox-wagons were used for transport was a marvel of organisation to me. the transport officer at mustapha pasha, with whom i became very friendly, was lyrical in his praise of the ox-wagon. it was, he said, the only thing that stuck to him during the war. the railway got choked, and even the horse failed, but the ox never failed. there were thousands of ox-wagons crawling across the country. these oxen do not walk, they crawl, like an insect, with an irresistible crawl. it reminded me of those armies of soldier ants which move across africa, eating everything which they come across, and stopping at nothing. i had an ox-wagon coming from mustapha pasha to kirk kilisse, and we went over the hills and down through the valleys, and stopped for nothing--we never had to unload once. and one can sleep in those ox-wagons. there is no jumping and pulling at the traces, such as you get with a harnessed horse. the ox-wagon moved slowly; but it always moved. if the ox-transport had not been so perfectly organised, and if the oxen had not been so patiently enduring as they proved to be, the bulgarian army must have perished by starvation. [illustration: the shipka pass] and yet at mustapha pasha a censor would not allow us to send anything about the ox-wagons. that officer thought the ox-cart was derogatory to the dignity of the army. if we had been able to say that they had such things as motor transport, or steam wagons, he would have cheerfully allowed us to send it. after lule burgas the ox-transport had to do the impossible. it was impossible for it to maintain the food and the ammunition supply of the army at the front, which i suppose must have numbered 250,000 to 300,000 men. that army had got right away from its base, with the one line of railway straddled by the enemy, and with the ox as practically the only means of transport. the position of the bulgarian nation towards its government on the outbreak of the war is, i think, extremely interesting as a lesson in patriotism. every man fought who could fight. but further, every family put its surplus of goods into the war-chest. the men marched away to the front; and the women of the house loaded up the surplus goods which they had in the house, and brought them for the use of the military authorities on the ox-wagons, which also went to the military authorities to be used on requisition. a bulgarian law, not one which was passed on the outbreak of the war--they were far too clever for that--but an act which was part of the organic law of the country, allowed the military authorities to requisition all surplus food and all surplus goods which could be of value to the army on the outbreak of hostilities. the whole machinery for that had been provided beforehand. but so great was the voluntary patriotism of the people that this machinery practically had not to be used in any compulsory form. goods were brought in voluntarily, wagons, cart-horses, and oxen, and all the surplus flour and wheat, and--i have the official figures from the bulgarian treasurer--the goods which were obtained in this way totalled in value some six million pounds. the bulgarian people represent half the population of london. the population is poor. their national existence dates back only half a century. but they are very frugal and saving; that six millions which the government signed for represented practically all the savings which the bulgarian people had at the outbreak of the war. chapter vii a war correspondent's trials in bulgaria a sense of grievance was the first fruits of my experience as a war correspondent in bulgaria. it was the general policy of the bulgarian army and the bulgarian military authorities to prevent war correspondents seeing anything of their operations. they wished nothing to interfere with the secrecy of their plans. there were only three british journalists who succeeded, in the ultimate result, in getting to the front and seeing the final battle of the first phase of the war, at chatalja. there were over a hundred correspondents who attempted to go. perhaps as i was one of three who succeeded, i do not think i, personally, have any reason to complain. but i found a good deal of vexation in the bulgarian policy, which was to prevent any knowledge of their plans, their dispositions, their strategy, and their tactics, from getting beyond the small circle of their own general staff. even some of their generals in the field were kept in partial ignorance. officers of high standing, unless they were on the general staff, knew little of the general plan; they were informed only about the particular operations in which they were engaged. this policy of secrecy was, however, a good thing from the point of view of getting to know the bulgarian people. if the military authorities had given me facilities to go with the army and see its operations i should have become familiar with the headquarters staff, perhaps with a few regimental officers, but not with the great mass of the army nor with the bulgarian people generally. but the refusal of facilities to accompany the army cast upon me the responsibility of trying to get through somehow to the front, and in the process of getting through i won to knowledge of the peasant soldiers and their home life. ultimately the residuum of my grievance was not with the secretive methods of the bulgarians--they were wise and necessary--but with the wild fictions which some correspondents thought to be the proper response to that policy of secretiveness. returned to kirk kilisse from the bulgarian lines at chatalja, i amused myself in an odd hour with burrowing among a great pile of newspapers in the censor's office, and reading here and there the war news from english, french, and belgian papers. dazed, amazed, i recognised that i had seemingly mistaken the duties of a war correspondent. for some six weeks i had been following an army in breathless, anxious chase of facts; wheedling censors to get some few of those facts into a telegraph office; learning then, perhaps, that the custom at that particular telegraph office was to forward telegrams to sofia, a ten days' journey, by bullock-wagon and railway, to give them time to mature. now here, piping hot, were the stories of the war. there was the vivid story of the battle of chatalja. this story was started seven days too soon; had the positions and the armies all wrong; the result all wrong; and the picturesque details were in harmony. but for the purposes of the public it was a very good story of a battle. those men who, after great hardships, were enabled to see the actual battle found that the poor messages which the censor permitted them to send took ten days or more in transmission to london. why have taken all the trouble and expense of going to the front? buda-pesth, on the way there, is a lovely city; bucharest also; and charming vienna was not at all too far away if you had a good staff-map and a lively military imagination. in yet another paper there was a vivid picture--scenery, date, greenwich time, and all to give an air of artistic verisimilitude--of the signing of the peace armistice. the armistice had not been signed at the time, was not signed for some days after. but it would have been absurd to have waited, since "our special correspondent" had seen it all in advance, right down to the embrace of the turkish delegate and the bulgarian delegate, and knew that some of the conditions were that the turkish commissariat was to feed the bulgarian troops at chatalja and the bulgarian commissariat the turkish troops in adrianople. if his paper had waited for the truth that most charming story would never have seen the light. so, in a little book i shall one day bring out in the "attractive occupations" series on "how to be a war correspondent," i shall give this general advice: 1. before operations begin, visit the army to which you are accredited, and take notes of the general appearance of officers and men. also learn a few military phrases of their language. ascertain all possible particulars of a personal character concerning the generals and chief officers. 2. return then to a base outside the country. it must have good telegraph communication with your newspaper. for the rest you may decide its locality by the quality of the wine, or the beer, or the cooking. 3. secure a set of good maps of the scene of operations. it will be handy also to have any books which have been published describing campaigns over the same _terrain_. 4. keep in touch with the official bulletins issued by the military authorities from the scene of operations. but be on guard not to become enslaved by them. if, for instance, you wait for official notices of battles, you will be much hampered in your picturesque work. fight battles when they ought to be fought and how they ought to be fought. the story's the thing. 5. a little sprinkling of personal experience is wise; for example, a bivouac on the battlefield, toasting your bacon at a fire made of a broken-down gun-carriage with a bayonet taken from a dead soldier. mention the nationality of the bacon. you cannot be too precise in details. [illustration: a young widow at her husband's grave] ko-ko's account of the execution of nankipoo is, in short, the model for the future war correspondent. the other sort of war correspondent, who patiently studied and recorded operations, seems to be doomed. in the nature of things it must be so. the more competent and the more accurate he is, the greater the danger he is to the army which he accompanies. his despatches, published in his newspaper and telegraphed promptly to the other side, give to them at a cheap cost that information of what is going on _behind_ their enemy's screen of scouts which is so vital to tactical, and sometimes to strategical, dispositions. to try to obtain that information an army pours out much blood and treasure; to guard that information an army will consume a full third of its energies in an elaborate system of mystification. a modern army must either banish the war correspondent altogether or subject him to such restrictions of censorship as to veto honest, accurate, and prompt criticism or record of operations. the bulgarian army had not the courage to refuse authorisation to the swarm of journalists which descended upon its headquarters. editors had argued it out that the small balkan states, anxious to have a "good press" in europe, would give correspondents a good show. but the bulgarian authorities, anxious as they were to conciliate foreign public opinion, dared not allow a free run to the newspaper representatives. apart from the considerations i have mentioned, which must govern any modern war, there were special reasons why the bulgarians should be nervous of observation. they were waging war on "forlorn hope" lines with the slenderest resources, with the knowledge that officers and men--especially transport officers--had to do almost the impossible to win through. further, they had the knowledge that in some cases the correspondents were representing the newspapers (and the governments, for newspapers and cabinets often work hand in hand on the continent) of nations which were at the very moment threatening mobilisation against the balkan states. to have specially excepted roumanian, austrian, and german press representatives from permission to see operations would have been impossible. the method was adopted of authorising as many press correspondents as cared to apply, then carefully pocketing them where they could see nothing, and instituting such a rigorous censorship as to guard effectively against any important facts, gleaned indirectly, leaking out. a few managed to earn enough of the bulgarian confidence to be allowed to go through to the front and see things. but, even then, the censorship and the monopoly of the telegraph line for military messages prevented them from despatching anything. some of the correspondents--one in particular--overcame a secretive military system and a harsh censorship by the use of a skilled imagination and of a friendly telegraph line outside the area of censorship. at the staff headquarters at stara zagora during the early days of the campaign, when we were all straining at the leash to get to the front, waiting and fussing, he was working, reconstructing the operations with maps and a fine imagination, and never allowing his paper to want for news. i think that he was quite prepared to have taken pupils for his new school of war correspondents. often he would come to me for a yarn--in halting french on both sides--and would explain the campaign as it was being carried on. one eloquent gesture he habitually had--a sweeping motion which brought his arms together as though they were gathering up a bundle of spears, then the hands would meet in an expressive squeeze. "it is that," he said, "it is napoleonic." probably the censor at this stage did not interfere much with his activities, content enough to allow fanciful descriptions of napoleonic strategy to go to the outer world. but, in my experience, facts, if one ascertained something independently, were not treated kindly. "why not?" i asked the censor vexedly about one message he had stopped. "it is true." "yes, that is the trouble," he said--the nearest approach to a joke i ever got out of a bulgarian, for they are a sober, god-fearing, and humour-fearing race. the idea of the bulgarian censorship in regard to the privileges and duties of the war correspondent was further illustrated to me on another occasion, when a harmless map of a past phase of the campaign was stopped. "then what am i to send?" i asked. "there are the bulletins," he said. "yes, the bulletins which are just your bald official account of week-old happenings which are sent to every news-agency in europe before we see them!" "but you are a war correspondent. you can add to them in your own language." remembering that conversation, i suspect that at first the bulgarian censorship did not object to fairy tales passing over the wires, though the way was blocked for exact observation. an enterprising story-maker had not very serious difficulties at the outset. afterwards there was a change, and even the writer of fairy stories had to work outside the range of the censor. we were all allowed down to mustapha pasha, and considered that that was a big step to the front. "for two days or so," we were told, it would be our duty to wait patiently within the town (the battle-ground around adrianople was about twelve miles distant). some waited there two months and saw no real operations. the censorship at mustapha pasha was so strict that all private letters had to be submitted, and if they were in english the english censor insisted that they should be read to him aloud; and he re-read them, again aloud, to see if he had fully grasped their significance. then they could go if they contained no military information and did not mention guns, oxen, soldiers, roads, mud, dirt, or other tabooed subjects. an amusing "rag" was tried on the censor there. a sorely tried correspondent wrote a letter of extreme warmth to an imaginary sweetheart. this began "ducksie darling," and continued in the same strain for two pages. he waited until there was a full house--the censors had no private office, but did their censoring in a large room which was open to all the correspondents--and then submitted his ardent outburst. other press-men did not see the joke at first, and began to sidle out of the room as, like a stream of warm treacle, the love-letter flowed on. but they came back. "'ducksie darling,'" began the writer, "that, you know, is not a military term. it is a phrase of endearment used in england.--'a thousand, thousand kisses'--that has nothing to do with the disposition of troops." so he went through to the honeyed end, the censor blushing and furious, the audience hilarious. the mustapha pasha censorship would not allow ox-wagons or reservists to be mentioned, nor officers' names. the censorship objected, too, for a long time to any mention of the all-pervading mud which was the chief item of interest in the town's life. yet you might have lost an army division in some of the puddles. (but stop, i am lapsing into the picturesque ways of the new school of correspondents. actually you could not have lost more than a regiment in the largest mud-puddle.) let the position be frankly faced, that if one is with an army in modern warfare, common sense prohibits the authorities from allowing you to see anything, and suggests the further precautions of a strict censorship and a general hold-up of wires until their military value (and therefore their "news" value) has passed. if your paper wants picturesque stories hot off the grill it is much better not to be with the army (which means, in effect, in the rear of the army), but to write about its deeds from outside the radius of the censorship. perhaps, though, your paper has old-fashioned prejudices in favour of veracity and will be annoyed if your imagination leads you too palpably astray? in that case do not venture to be a war correspondent at all. if you do not invent you will send nothing of value. if you invent you will be reprimanded. let me give my personal record of "getting to the front" and the net result of the trouble and the expense. i went down to mustapha pasha with the great body of war correspondents, and soon recognised that there was no hope of useful work there. the attacking army was at a standstill and a long, wearisome siege--its operations strictly guarded from inspection--was in prospect. i decided to get back to staff headquarters (then at stara zagora), and just managed to catch the staff before it moved on to kirk kilisse. by threatening to return to london at once i got a promise of leave to join the third army and to "see some fighting." the promise anticipated the actual granting of leave by two days. it would be tedious to record all the little and big difficulties that were then encountered through the reluctance of the military authorities to allow one to get transport or help of any kind. but four days later i was marching out of mustapha pasha on the way to kirk kilisse by way of adrianople, a bullock-wagon carrying my baggage, an interpreter trundling my bicycle, i riding a small pony. the interpreter was gloomy and disinclined to face the hardships and dangers (mostly fancied) of the journey. beside the driver (a macedonian) marched a soldier with fixed bayonet. persuasion was necessary to force the driver to undertake the journey, and a friendly transport officer had, with more or less legality, put at my command this means of argument. a mile outside mustapha pasha the soldier turned back, and i was left to coax my unwilling helpers on a four days' journey across a war-stricken countryside, swept of all supplies, infested with savage dogs (fortunately well fed by the harvest of the battlefields), liable to ravage by roving bands. that night i gave the macedonian driver some jam and some meat to eke out his bread and cheese. "that is better than having a bayonet poked into your inside," i said, by pantomime. he understood, grinned, and gave no great trouble thereafter, though he was always in a state of pitiable funk when i left the wagon to take a trip within the lines of the besieging forces. [illustration: gipsies] so to kirk kilisse. there i got to general savoff himself and won not only leave, but a letter of aid to go down to the third army at the lines of chatalja. but by then what must be the final battle of the war was imminent. every hour of delay was dangerous. to go by cart meant a journey of several days. a military train was available part of the way if i were content to drop interpreter, horse, and baggage and travel with a soldier's load. that decision was easy enough at the moment--though i sometimes regretted it afterwards when the only pair of riding-breeches i had with me gave out at the knees, and i had to walk the earth ragged--and by train i got to tchorlu. there a friendly artillery officer helped me to get a cart (springless) and two fast horses. he insisted also on giving me as a patrol, a single bulgarian soldier, with 200 rounds of ammunition, as bashi-bazouks were ranging the country. i objected that i had a revolver, and there was the driver, a greek. "he would run away," said the officer pleasantly, and the patrol was taken. it was an unnecessary precaution, though the presence of the soldier was comforting as we entered silivri at night, the outskirts of the town deserted, the chattering of the driver's teeth audible over the clamour of the cart, the gutted houses ideal refuges for prowling bands. from silivri to chatalja there was again no appearance of bashi-bazouks. but thought of another danger obtruded as we came near the lines and encountered men from the bulgarian army suffering from the choleraic dysentery which had then begun its ravages. to one dying soldier by the roadside i gave brandy; and then had to leave him with his mates, who were trying to get him to a hospital. they were sorely puzzled by his cries, his pitiful grimaces. wounds they knew, and the pain of them they despised. they could not comprehend this disease which took away all the manhood of a stoic peasant, and made him weak in spirit as an ailing child. from chatalja, the right flank of the bulgarian position, i passed along the front to ermenikioi ("the village of armenians"), passing the night at arjenli, near the centre and the headquarters of the ammunition park. that night at arjenli seemed to make a rough and sometimes perilous journey, which had extended over seven days, worth while. arjenli is perched on a high hill, to the west of ermenikioi. it gave a view of all the chatalja position--the range of hills stretching from the black sea to the sea of marmora, along which the bulgarians were entrenched, and, beyond the invisible valley, the second range which held the turkish defence. over the turkish lines, like a standard, shone in the clear sky a crescent moon, within its tip a bright star. it seemed an omen, an omen of good to the turks. my australian eye instinctively sought for the southern cross ranged against it in the sky in sign that the christian standard held the heavens too. i sought in vain in those northern latitudes, shivered a little and, as though arguing against a superstitious thought, said to myself: "but there is the great bear." for by this time i had come to sympathise thoroughly with the bulgarian army and its cause. the soldiers were such good fellows: their steadiness, their sense of justice, their kindness were so remarkable. just an incident of the camp at arjenli to illustrate this. it was on the friday night of november 15, and on the morrow we expected the decisive battle of the war. at arjenli (which was a little to the rear of the bulgarian lines) was the ammunition park of the artillery, guarded by a small body of troops under lieutenant-colonel tchobanoff. coming towards the front from tchorlu, the fall of night and the weariness of my horses had compelled me to halt at the village, and this officer and dr. neytchef gave me a warm welcome to their little mess. there are six members, and for all, to sleep and to eat, one room. three are officers, three have no commissions. with this nation in arms that is not an objection to a common table. discipline is strict, but officers and soldiers are men and brothers when out of the ranks. social position does not govern military position. i found sometimes the university professor and the bank manager without commissions, the peasant proprietor an officer. the whole nation had poured out its manhood for the war, from farm, field, factory, shop, bank, university, and consulting-room. here at arjenli on the eve of the decisive battle, i think over early incidents of the campaign. it is a curious fact that in all bulgaria i have met but one man who was young enough and well enough to fight and who had not enlisted. he had become an american subject, i believe, and so could not be compelled to serve. in america he had learned to be an "international socialist," and so he did not volunteer. i believe he was unique. with half the population of london, bulgaria had put 350,000 trained men under arms. we eat our simple meal of goat's flesh stewed with rice. then, smoking cigarettes made of the tobacco of the district, colonel tchobanoff and i talk over the position as well as my bad french will allow. he is serene and cheerful. his chief care is to impress upon me the fact that in making war the bulgarians had not been influenced by dynastic considerations nor by military ambition. it was a war dictated not by a court circle or a military clique, but by the irresistible wish of the people. whilst we were talking the sound of a rifle shot came up from the village. a junior officer was sent out to make inquiries. soon he returned with two soldiers leading between them a turkish prisoner. i learn the facts. the turk had tried to rush past a sentry standing guard over the ammunition park. the sentry had fired, had not hit the man, but had grappled with him afterwards and taken him prisoner. i nerved myself to see the turk shot out of hand. the rules of war warranted it. he had tried to rush a sentry on guard over an important military station. but the bulgarian officers decided to hear his story, and a kind of informal court-martial was constituted. the proceedings, which were in turkish, were translated to me, as i was acting in a way as friend of the accused to "see fair play." the turk's story was clear enough. he had lived in arjenli all his life and was not a soldier. when the turkish army had evacuated the district he had not left with them, but had stayed in his old village. that night he had gone out of his hut to the village well. returning, a sentry had challenged him, and he had become frightened and tried to run away. it was clear that the man was telling the truth. the bulgarians believed him, and let him go with a warning. this showed justice and courage, and a good "nerve" too. in some armies, i suspect, the turk would have been shot, or hanged first and left to explain afterwards, if he could. and this was among the bulgarians, who some insist are a bloodthirsty, cut-throat race, with no sense of justice or of mercy! chapter viii incidents of bulgarian character some further incidents of bulgarian life gleaned during war-time will illustrate the national characteristics of the people. peter was a secretary-servant whom i engaged at sofia to accompany me to the front because he could speak english, a language he had learned at the robert (american) college in constantinople, where he was educated. peter was to be partly a secretary, partly a servant. he was to interpret for me, translate bulgarian papers and documents, also to cook and to carry if need be. he was destined to be a lawyer, and was the son of a small trader. [illustration: a peasant of the tsaribrod district] peter was interesting as illustrating the transition stage between the bulgarian peasant (for whom i have the heartiest admiration) and the bulgarian statesman, diplomat, "personage" (for whom i have not--generally speaking and with particular exceptions--nearly so much admiration). he had not lost the peasant virtues. he was loyal, plucky, patriotic. but he had lost the good health and the practical knowledge of life of the peasant stock from which he sprang. the bulgarian on the land lives a laborious life, bread and cheese his usual sole food, with a little meat as a rare treat, and a glass of vodka as his indulgence for sundays and feast days only. marrying early he is astonishingly fecund. transfer him to town life and he soon shows a weakening in physical fibre. the streets sap away his field-bred health. a more elaborate diet attacks the soundness of his almost bovine digestion. there is no greater contrast between the bulgarian peasant on the land, physically the healthiest type one could imagine, and the bulgarian town resident, who has not yet learned to adapt himself to the conditions of closely hived life and shows a marked susceptibility to dyspepsia, phthisis, and neurasthenia. the bulgarian peasant has the nerves, the digestion of an ox. the bulgarian town-dweller, the son or grandson of that peasant, might pass often for the tired-out progeny of many generations of city workers. peter could not serve in the army because his lungs were affected. that was why he was available as my secretary-servant. peter was, as regards any practical knowledge of life, the most pathetically useless young man one could imagine. he could make coffee, after the turkish fashion, and had equipped himself for a long campaign with a most elaborate coffee machine, all glass and gimcrackery, which of course did not survive one day's travel. but he had not brought food nor cooking pots nor knife nor fork nor spoon: no blankets had he, and no change of clothing--just the coffee-pot, a picture of a saint, and an out-of-date book of bulgarian statistics, which he solemnly presented to me, with his name affectionately inscribed on the fly-leaf. i dared not throw it away, and so had to carry its useless bulk about with me until peter and i parted. in addition to his lack of equipment, peter could not roll a rug, make a bed, or fend for himself in any way. the bulgarian peasant in his life on the land is on the whole a very clever chap as regards the practical things of existence. during the campaign i noticed how he made himself very comfortable. whenever he was stationed as a guard for a railway bridge or in any other semi-permanent post, he half-dug, half-thatched himself an excellent shelter. he made use for food supplies of every scrap of eatable stuff that came his way, and could do wonders in the manipulation and repair of an ox-cart. but clearly these simple skills do not survive town life. peter was only one example of many that i encountered. the problem that troubles bulgaria to-day and will trouble her for some time to come is that of finding from her almost exclusively peasant population enough statesmen, lawyers, priests, teachers, leaders generally who will have substituted for peasant virtues and peasant abilities the _savoir faire_ of the cultivated european. they show a tendency to lose the one before they gain the other. my life with peter was brief. he was such a good fellow that i was quite willing to retain him, even though i had to be the servant really, and his services were only useful as interpreter. but his health improved. possibly the better food and the open-air regime that i insisted upon were responsible. peter became healthy enough to do something for the army and, of course, he went away to do that something. though he had become a good deal devoted to me his chief devotion was to his country. i honoured him for deserting me. incidents of the mobilisation of the troops showed this strong and general patriotic ardour. at the call this trained nation was in arms in a day. the citizen soldiers hurried to the depôts for their arms and uniforms. in one district the rumour that mobilisation had been authorised was bruited abroad a day before the actual issue of the orders, and the depôt was besieged by the peasants who had rushed in from their farms. the officer in charge could not give out the rifles, so the men lit fires, got food from the neighbours, and camped around the depôt until they were armed. some navvies received their mobilisation orders on returning to their camp after ten hours' work at railway-building. they had supper and marched through the night to their respective headquarters. for one soldier, the march was twenty-four miles. the railway carriages were not adequate to bring all the men to their assigned centres. some rode on the steps, on the roofs of carriages, on the buffers even. at stara zagora i noted a mother of the people who had come to see some turkish prisoners just brought in from mustapha pasha. to one she gave a cake. "they are hungry," she said. this woman had five men at the war, her four sons in the fighting-line, her husband under arms guarding a line of communication. she had sent them proudly. it was the boast of the bulgarian women that not a tear was shed at the going away of the soldiers. at a little village outside kirk kilisse a young civil servant, an official of the foreign office, spoke of the war whilst we ate a dish of cheese and eggs. "it is a war," he said, "of the peasants and the intellectuals. it is not a war made by the politicians or the soldiers of the staff. that would be impossible. in our nation every soldier is a citizen and every citizen a soldier. there could not be a war, unless it were a war desired by the people. in my office it was with rage that some of the clerks heard that they must stay at sofia, and not go to the front. we were all eager to take arms." at nova zagora, travelling by a troop train carrying reserves to the front, i crossed a train bringing wounded from the battlefields. for some hours both trains were delayed. the men going to the front were decorated with flowers as though going to a feast. they filled the waiting time by dancing to the music of the national bagpipes, and there joined in the dance such of the wounded as could stand on their feet. at mustapha pasha i arrived one night from stara zagora with a great body of correspondents. with me i had brought about a week's supply of food, leaving other supplies with my heavy baggage. but on the train journey, taking up a full day, this supply disappeared. no one else seemed to have food supplies handy, and i fed all i could, including a bulgarian bishop (who showed his gratitude afterwards by "cutting me dead" when it was in his power to do me a slight favour). when we reached mustapha pasha it was to find no hotels, lodging-houses, cafés, or stores. all the food supplies had been requisitioned by the bulgarian military authorities. there was plenty of food in the town but none could be bought. i tried to get a loaf of bread from a military bakery, offering to the soldier in charge up to five francs for a loaf. he was sturdily proof against bribes. but subsequently i was given a loaf for nothing on the ground that i was "in distress"; as indeed i was, though with £100 in my pocket. between silivri and ermenikioi, travelling with a fine equipment for the time being--a cart and two good horses and a full supply of food, purchased at tchorlu and silivri--i was eating lunch by the roadside when four bulgarian soldiers came up and with signs told me that they were starving, and asked for food. they had become separated from their regiment and, i gathered, had had no food for two days. they were armed with rifles and bayonets and could have taken from me all they needed if they had wished. but that thought did not seem to have entered their heads. i gave them a meal and a little bread and cheese to see them on their way. one of these poor peasant soldiers fumbled in his purse and brought out some coppers, wishing to pay for what he had had. repeatedly in my travels i would come at nightfall to some little vedette outpost and be made welcome of the officers' mess. that meant sharing their meal, whatever it was,--a very poor one sometimes. after the main dish i would bring out dates and biscuits, of which i had a small store, to find usually that the bulgarian officers would refuse to trench upon my supplies, as i was going forward "to the front" and would need them. that was not the attitude of savages but of gentlemen. these and a score of similar incidents showed me the bulgarian national character as kind, honest, patient, courageous. they made it impossible for me to believe that by nature these people are invariably cruel, rapacious, murderous. that in cases of balkan massacres and outrages the bulgarian people have not been always the victims, and have not been always blameless, i know. it is impossible to shut one's eyes to the fact that something survives of the traditions of cruelty and reprisal existing in the balkans of the middle ages. in this balkan peninsula there is always a smell of blood in the nostrils, a mist of blood in the eyes. the bulgarians have taken their part in many incidents which seem to deny the existence of christian civilisation. [illustration: the ratchenitza, the national dance of bulgaria] but i speak of the people as i found them, and i came away from the balkans confident that my life and property would always be safe with bulgarian peasants, provided that i made no movement to begin trouble. i came away, too, with a high idea of their essential soundness as a nation and their certainty of a great future. allowances have to be made for the hostility of circumstances. as is insisted by the bulgarians, when the little nation started to restore its old home life, everything had to be replaced. "it was not only the political conditions which had altered, but social life itself. at a moment's notice, and practically out of nothing, a new administration had to be organised and the diverse organs of the national life to be improvised. hardly anything valuable of the preceding regime could be utilised. in this connection, it is interesting to observe the different fortunes of a conquered province. when a province which had formed part of a civilised country passes to a nation equally civilised, one may say that in many respects the change is an unimportant one, because in such a case the conqueror retains almost all the institutions, the only difference being that in the future they work in the name of the new sovereign authority. the political condition of such a province is the only thing which is affected, the administrative and judicial system and the wealth continuing as before. on the other hand, if one attempted to form a modern state out of a country which has been devastated for centuries, or if one tried to transform a turkish province into a country after the pattern of the european states, every step would be strewn with obstacles, and there would be nothing of the former state of things that could be utilised. in such a case, the only thing to be done would be to borrow from other nations the experience which they have accumulated during their long efforts, and to transplant it into the desolated land. this is practically what happened in bulgaria, and it is only by taking into account the exceptionally difficult conditions in which the principality found itself on the morrow of its liberation that one will be able to appreciate the efforts displayed and the result obtained." in one particular there is to a british observer a marked failing in the bulgarian character: the bulgars are very nervous to "keep up appearances" and that makes them appear snobbish and deceitful at times. they are ashamed of poverty, a little ashamed, too, of their natural manners. always they wish to put the best face on things before the world. if a bulgarian understood that you recognised any crudeness anywhere he liked to pretend that it was not a usual thing but a temporary circumstance due to the war. i got quite tired of hearing "_la guerre comme la guerre_" murmured to me by apologetic bulgarians wanting to pretend that under normal circumstances his countrymen always had the best of table silver and napery. one incident (which left nothing but amiable memories) of a day's march north of adrianople i can recall illustrating this desire to keep up appearances. after an anxious day i had got to a bulgarian camp, was welcomed by an officer and brought around to a little hut where the mess was established. my new-made friend knocked at the door and explained things in bulgarian. i heard a scuffle and could not help seeing through the window two young officers who were comfortably enjoying supper with their coats off rushing to get into full uniform. until they were dressed properly there was no admittance to the stranger. that showed on the whole a good feeling of pride: but sometimes bulgarian sensitiveness to criticism and desire to appear grand was a little trying. i suppose, however, it is natural in a "new" people. in most things, however, the bulgarian is intensely practical. that sturdy panegyrist of the bulgars, mr. noel buxton, m.p., insists upon this practicality even when its effects were notably absent: "the bulgarian mind," he writes, "is practical. it is no doubt still debated, among european military experts, whether the army succeeded through a well-organised transport or in spite of the want of it. the foreign red cross contingents at the front were inclined to the latter view. judged by english or by german standards, the system, or want of system, employed led them to suppose that success came from 'muddling through.' they found that nothing was prepared for their arrival, and no classification of the wounded carried out. but it may be doubted whether the bulgarian mind does not include some elements of a quality which is really higher than statistical efficiency." it calls for a more affectionate eye towards the bulgar people than i possess to be blind to the fact that in their medical and sanitary arrangements for the campaign against the turks they were woefully deficient. the excuse of ignorance is the only one that will serve. the only alternative to that would be a complete recklessness for life. in the bulgarian camps sanitary precautions were absolutely lacking, and on the battlefields the provision for dealing with the wounded was shockingly inadequate. when i came back from chatalja to kirk kilisse, king ferdinand sent his private secretary for me as an independent witness of the state of things at the front. i took the occasion to acquaint his majesty frankly with the ghastly consequences that had followed from the absence of all precautions to ensure a wholesome water supply, from the neglect of latrine regulations in the camps and other failures in the medical and sanitary service. i had no reason to feel that my frankness was resented, and i believe that (too late in the day) an effort at reform was made. certainly since then there has been reform, and if bulgaria should unhappily have to enter upon another campaign probably the medical and sanitary services will be brought to a high pitch of organisation. yes, the bulgarian is very practical in mind but he has suffered, and has yet to suffer again perhaps, from lack of experience to instruct his practical mind. if the national pride would allow of it, an excellent thing for bulgaria would be to import half a dozen skilled officials from, say, england and france to nurse her departments through the stage of infancy. the nation has plenty of natural genius but makes mistakes through inexperience. chapter ix the tragedy of 1914 when the war between the balkan states and the turkish empire was brought to a close for the time being by an armistice signed on the battlefield of chatalja, to which bulgaria, servia, and turkey were parties, and by the summoning of the conference of london, to which greece also was a party, the prospects for bulgaria's future were singularly bright. as a power in the balkans turkey had ceased to exist. she had been driven out of all albania, macedonia, epirus, and thrace, except that beleaguered garrisons held the fortresses of scutari, janina, and adrianople and the dardanelles forts, whilst behind the lines of chatalja a small area of turkish territory remained under the crescent. the area held by the bulgarian armies was greater at this time than the territory assigned to her by the treaty of san stefano, and promised to be extended as the result of the peace negotiations. in the war which had just been waged the exploits of bulgarian arms had attracted the widest attention in europe. public opinion in most of the capitals of the world assigned the future hegemony of the balkan peninsula to the bulgarian nation. but all this fair-seeming prospect was the prelude to one of the greatest national tragedies in history. i cannot better preface a relation of the facts of that tragedy than by giving a summary of the position early in 1914, as it was given anonymously by a noted bulgarian diplomat to the _national review_. he wrote: it is too late for pretending that all is well with the balkan league. even in official quarters, where pessimism is generally discouraged, it is no longer denied that relations between the allies have reached a critical stage.... it would form a sad epilogue to a noble story if what began as a crusade of liberation were to end in fratricidal strife.... nominally, the quarrel turns on the interpretation of treaties and their bearing on the situation created by the war. but underneath all these arguments there lurk preoccupations far transcending the scope of written or oral agreements. the question at stake is nothing less than the future balance of power in the balkans. the map of the balkans has been transformed beyond recognition, and turkey has practically ceased to exist as a european power; but those who expected it to inaugurate an era of tranquillity have been disappointed. the failure of the war as an instrument of pacification is largely due to the very magnitude of its military success. had the victories of the allies been less decisive, conditions might have arisen more favourable to the cause of balkan union. the sudden collapse of turkey left a void which has upset the entire scheme of things existing.... [illustration: a bagpiper] the passions which the war has engendered are only partly due to lust for territorial aggrandisement. mere thirst after conquest would have never produced such perversions of moral sense had it not been backed by the sentiment of fear and jealousy. this is clearly proved by the fact that feelings have reached their highest point of intensity where this latter element loomed largest. the bulgarians have exhibited a degree of self-control which is in marked contrast with the conduct of other allies. this equanimity is the more surprising in view of the fact that the position of bulgaria is well-nigh desperate. for months past, the brunt of the war has fallen almost entirely on her. on every side she is surrounded by an atmosphere of open hostility. by threats of invasion, roumania has wrung from her a ransom for the balkan victories, while in macedonia her allies are preparing to dispute her lawful share and have massed against her their whole armies. so long as peace with turkey is not signed she must remain immobilised in front of chatalja and bulair. for a parallel case one must go back to the dark hours of prussia during the seven years' war. but in the midst of all these difficulties bulgaria has kept a cool head, whereas public opinion in servia and greece has parted company with all reason. it is not indifference to the issues at stake which explains this placid demeanour. when the proper time arrives, the bulgarians will be found tough bargainers and determined to claim their full due. they know, however, that the position of their country as prime factor in the balkans cannot be seriously affected by the results of the allotment. even before the war, the supremacy of bulgaria was hardly questioned, and the formation of the balkan league would have been impossible but for this acquiescence in her right to leadership. with the disappearance of turkey, this predominance is bound to be further accentuated and henceforth will have to be reckoned with as a political axiom. the reasons which have enabled bulgaria to envisage the future with tranquillity are for her allies a source of uneasiness. servia and greece have long watched the rapid and uninterrupted progress of their pushful neighbour with mixed feelings of fear and envy. her seniors in point of time, they have been outdistanced in the race for balkan hegemony. in 1885 servia made a desperate attempt at grappling with the problem, but had no reason to be satisfied with the results. the doctrine of balkan equilibrium was buried at slivnitza, and since then servia has had to rest contented with a secondary place. but the galling memory of defeat had never died out and probably plays in the present anti-bulgarian agitation a larger part than most servians realise or would care to admit. antagonism between greeks and bulgarians is a legacy of the past. their history is a long record of ceaseless struggle. when they could no longer war as freemen, the feud was transferred to ecclesiastical ground and there continued under the mocking eye of their new masters. since their restoration to independent life, they have not been able to revert to the old tradition owing to turkey's presence as buffer state. this involuntary truce, however, has not turned hatred into love. they are once more to have a common frontier and will thus be brought in direct contact. ... the war has widened the gulf between these races by adding to the old stock of animosities a fresh supply of military jealousies. it has let loose over the entire peninsula a flood of vanity which has upset the balance of a good many heads. a year ago, no sane servian would have dreamed of pitting his country against bulgaria, and this recognition of inferiority stood for peace. now, every servian officer is convinced that the result of such a trial of forces would be favourable to servia, just as he is persuaded that the issues of the war with turkey have been decided mainly by servian valour.... if this is the way in which servians are wearing their laurels, it can be imagined what the effect of recent events has been on impressionable greece. to the trepidation with which the war was entered has succeeded the feeling of boundless self-reliance. all sense of reality and proportion has been banished, and there is no exploit which seems beyond the reach of greek effort. the outbreak of a fresh balkan war would, in the present circumstances, prove little short of a world-wide calamity. should, however, europe succeed in localising such a conflict, its miseries will, to a certain extent, be compensated by one very important advantage. a trial of forces between the various balkan competitors will clear the atmosphere and settle in the only efficacious way the sore problem of balkan hegemony, which is at the bottom of balkan unrest. it will fix for a long term of years the respective positions of the parties. just as the servo-bulgarian war in 1885 proved a blessing in disguise, so this time also the arbitrament of the sword might create conditions more favourable to the political stability of the peninsula. and this will be a gain not only to the balkan nations, but to the whole of europe. the last thing of which that bulgarian writer dreamt was the actual result of the fresh balkan war, which did break out and which ended in the humiliation of bulgaria. he contemplated the necessity of palliating to european minds the enormity of a fratricidal war between allies who had sanctioned their war against turkey as a struggle of the cross against the crescent; but he had no idea that there was the barest possibility that bulgaria would have to suffer complete defeat instead of explaining victory. the conference of london which endeavoured to arrange a peace after the first phase of the balkan war met first in december 1913. i watched closely its deliberations, had several friends among the delegates, and was in a position to see at close hand the play of jealousies and ambitions which made its work futile. from the first the very desperation of turkey raised a difficulty to quick peace negotiations. she had lost so much as to be practically bankrupt, and was in the position of a reckless man with no more possible losses to suffer, anxious by any expedient to postpone the day of payment in the hope that something would turn up in his favour. that anything should turn up seemed in reason impossible, but oriental fatalism despises reason; and in this case oriental fatalism was right judged by the final event. the sessions of the london conference found a vividly contrasting setting in london. (in constantinople the meetings would have had an appropriate stage.) it was a contest of oriental against semi-oriental diplomacy; and staid british officials, who had duties in connection with the conference, lived for weeks in an atmosphere of bewilderment, wondering if they were still in the twentieth century or had wandered back to the bagdad of the middle ages. the first effort of the turkish delegates was to gain time. on any point that arose they wanted instructions from their government and pressed for an adjournment. when, after a few days, the conference assembled again, the instructions had not arrived, and there was need for another adjournment. at the next meeting the instructions had arrived; but they were written so illegibly that they could not be deciphered, and so there was another adjournment. (this illegible despatches excuse had not even the merit of being novel--it was used many years before in an egyptian negotiation.) to the desperate attempts of the turks to waste time the diplomats of the balkan states replied with but little patience or suavity. they did not recognise fully that they were present at a death-bed, and that the patient had some excuse for taking an unconscionable time in dying. their patience was not increased by the knowledge of the fact that the time secured by these evasive excuses was being used in desperate attempts to sow dissensions among the allies and to beat up support in some european capital for the forlorn turkish empire. it was over the question of the cession of adrianople to bulgaria that the chief trouble arose, and the turkish delegates made a great point of the fact that at adrianople was the parent mosque of islam in europe and the burial-place of the first sultans. this plea for their holy places aroused some sympathy in europe. i suggested to dr. daneff, the chief bulgarian delegate to the conference, that he should allow me to publish that bulgaria would allow the turks to retain the holy places in adrianople as an extra-territorial area under the control of the moslem caliph. dr. daneff liked the proposal, but at first would only allow it to go out as an unofficial hint that probably bulgaria would consent to such an arrangement. then, finding that the concession was popular, he fathered it directly, and it was made one of the terms of peace which the powers tried to force upon turkey. peace seemed assured when finally the turkish porte agreed, under pressure from the powers, to a treaty of peace, which left to turkey on the european mainland only the territory lying south and east from a line drawn between media, on the black sea, to rodosto on the sea of marmora. but a revolution in turkey upset this arrangement, and the peace conference was broken up and the war resumed. in this second phase of the balkan war against turkey (1914), the efforts of the balkan league were practically confined to attacks upon the fortresses still held by the turks in the conquered territories. scutari, janina, adrianople fell after fierce battles. the revolution clearly had done nothing to restore the military strength of the turks. now another effort was made to end the war, and the peace conference resumed its sessions in london. whilst during the 1913 session all the delay had been caused by turkey, now turkey shared the willingness of bulgaria to sign a peace on terms dictated by the powers, which left to turkey the territory behind the midia-rodosto line, and reserved for a european decision the fate of the aegean islands and the boundaries of an independent state of albania which was to be set up. but both servia and greece were reluctant now to assent to such peace conditions. both felt a grievance about the creation of an independent albania which deprived them of a great stretch of territory on the adriatic which they had hoped to share. both felt that yet another war was necessary to settle issues as to the division of the spoil with bulgaria. to the delays for which servia and greece were responsible there was an added complication arising from the attitude of roumania. that kingdom--which had taken no active part in the late war, but which had secretly nursed a boundary grievance against bulgaria dating back from the war of liberation, when russia robbed roumania of bessarabia and proposed to pay her with bulgarian territory without actually doing so--now announced that she must be a party to any new balkan settlement, and mobilised her forces to give accent to the demand she had been making for some time for a territorial concession from bulgaria. the diplomacy of bulgaria under these difficult circumstances was deplorable. her statesmen seemed bemused with the intoxication of bulgarian military victories, and unable to forget the glowing calculations of the future bulgarian empire which they had made during the course of the war. those calculations i gathered from gossip with all classes in bulgaria at different times, speaking not only with politicians but with bankers, trading people, and others. they concluded that the turk was going to be driven out of europe, at any rate, as far as constantinople. they considered that constantinople was too great a prize for the bulgarian nation or for the balkan states, and that constantinople would be left as an international city to be governed by a commission of the great powers. bulgaria was, then, to have of what had been turkey-in-europe, the province of thrace, and a large part of macedonia as far as the city of salonica. [illustration: a young girl of irn] salonica was desired very much by the bulgarians, and also very much by the greeks; and the decision in regard to salonica before the war was that it would be best to make it a free balkan city, governed by all the balkan states in common, as a free port for all the balkan states. the frontier of greece was to extend to the north, and greece was to be allowed all the aegean islands. the servian frontier was to extend to the eastward and the southward, and what is now the autonomous province of albania (the creation of which was insisted on by the powers) was to be divided between montenegro and servia. that division would have left the bulgarians with the greatest spoil of the war. they would have had entry on to the sea of marmora; they would have controlled, perhaps, one side of the dardanelles (but i believe they thought that the dardanelles might also be left to a commission of the powers). now, with the clash of diplomacy, it was sternly necessary to curtail that ambition considerably, and to decide to seek a friend among the different rivals. bulgarian diplomats could not be made to see that. they were firm with turkey: wisely enough, for turkey had no power left to wound or to help. but at the same time they refused to make any concessions either to servia, to greece, or to roumania, all of whom were determined to have a share of the plunder which bulgaria had assigned for herself. "a leonine partnership" as the lawyers call it, that is to say, a partnership in which one party takes the lion's share of the spoil, is a very satisfactory arrangement for the lion. but one wants to be sure before attempting to enforce leonine arrangements that one is the lion. bulgaria blundered on into a position which left her exhausted army to face at once greece, servia, montenegro, and roumania. that it was not necessary for her to get into that position i can say with some confidence. a more judicious handling of her relations with servia would have kept the friendship of that kindred nation, and montenegro would have followed servia. the united slav peoples of the balkans would then have been strong enough to withstand any attempt to enforce unfair conditions by roumania or greece. but bulgaria made no attempt to conciliate servia. between the two peoples there had existed before the war a very close treaty of alliance. this treaty had arranged for the division of the spoil of the war on a basis which had not foreseen that the european powers would create an independent albania; and servia had not imagined that turkey would be so weak, and that the booty in thrace would have been so considerable. bulgaria thus had more than was expected in one quarter, whilst servia was bitterly disappointed in another direction. friends, under the circumstances, would have struck another bargain. bulgaria insisted upon the strict letter of the old bargain. servia was thus forced into the arms of greece; reluctantly, i think. if she could have made a fair arrangement with bulgaria she would have preferred that. but it seemed to be destined that bulgaria should add another to the long list of her frustrated hopes. the early part of 1914 saw the balkans in the throes of a war which eclipsed in bitterness and bloodshed the campaign of 1913. greece and servia fought against bulgaria, and roumania marched down from the north towards the bulgarian capital, her army unopposed because there was no means of opposing it. stopping short of entering sofia, roumania took up the position of the chief power in the balkans and insisted upon dictating terms of peace. those terms bulgaria, perforce, accepted after her army had been defeated with terrible slaughter by the servian and grecian forces. she was forced to give up territory in all directions: to roumania on the north; to servia on the west; to greece on the south. to crown her misfortunes, the turks moved up against the prostrate country, recaptured, without an effort, adrianople, which had been won with such terrible cost of bulgarian blood, and also kirk kilisse. in the final result bulgaria was left with but little net gain as the price of her enormous sacrifices of blood and of treasure. to the north she actually lost some of her old territory. from the turk she secured a fragment of thrace, and a part of macedonia which gave her access to the aegean sea, but no decent port there, and no possibility of carrying out her grandiose scheme of canalising the river maritza and making a bulgarian adrianople a port for trade. further, she had the mortification of seeing all three of her rivals in the balkans aggrandised, and roumania left with the hegemony of the peninsula. only a few months before, mr. noel buxton had written the "io triumphe" of the bulgarian cause: the blight that had lain on the balkan lands was healed, the fog dispelled. even the prestige of military despotism was gone like a pricked bubble. the tyranny that rested on delusion and not on power was vanished like an empty nightmare that fades when the sleeper wakes. the establishment of europe's freedom was fulfilled; the final step taken. a great and notable nation had obtained recognition through the war. its persistence, its purpose, its deep reserve, now stood revealed, added to the world's stores of national character. for centuries the bulgarian refused to compromise with the turk. other nations sought to lighten the weight of the yoke by taking service with the tyrant or bowing the head. the maxim, "the sword never strikes when the head is bowed," undermined the soul of other nations, never of this. influence and wealth went to others; all seemed lost by the policy of defiance. bulgarians would not balance advantages. a kind of faith made them ready to pay even death for ultimate gain. the spirit wins at last: and the indomitable spirit of the bulgars has come by its just reward. three months after that the turk was back in thrace, and the national life of bulgaria had touched its lowest point since the war of liberation, with only her justified hope in the future as a consolation. chapter x some facts for the tourist and the economist bulgaria is in the main tableau or plain land sheltered by lofty mountains. on the north it is bounded by the danube until the town of silistra is reached, when an artificial frontier cuts down from the river to the black sea coast. by the cession of territory to roumania in 1914 this artificial frontier took a more southerly course, and reaches now to a point just north of varna. the coast of the black sea bounds bulgaria on the east, and she has there two ports, varna and burgas. on the south the frontier is now european turkey as far west almost as the 24th parallel of latitude, and then the bordering territory is greece. on the west the boundary is servia. the balkan mountains and the rhodope mountains run roughly east and west: the former almost in the centre of bulgaria; the latter near to the turkish border. the valleys and plains of bulgaria are watered by tributaries of the danube, by tributaries of the maritza and the struma flowing into the aegean sea, and by some small streams flowing directly into the black sea. the soil of the plains and the tableland is generally good, and 70 per cent of it is suitable for cultivation. in the mountains there are a few small lakes and many deep gorges and noble peaks, offering to the traveller the attraction of scenery wilder than that of the alps. for the tourist with an autumn or a spring month to spare, i could imagine no more interesting journey than to cross on horseback or with an ox-wagon the rhodopes or the balkans. (in the summer such a tour would be less pleasant because of the heat of the plains and the prevalence of flies.) but in the autumn, of all seasons, the balkan peninsula has supreme charms. the climate then is perfect, usually fine, with warm clear days and cold nights. the atmosphere is full of light and colour. sunset as seen from the lower foothills of the balkans is a rare pageant of glowing colour. these foothills are covered with oak scrub, which with the first frosts of autumn puts on burning robes of red and gold. as the sun goes down to rest in the western sky, hung with banners of the same red and gold, the twilight steals up first as a pink radiance then as a deep purple glow. light melts into light--softly, insensibly--the display in the sky and on the hill-sides gradually passing from one colour to another, until at last night and darkness come to end the long-drawn-out procession of colour. these wild mountains abound in game which has been driven from the tamer parts of europe. there are bears, wolves, jackals, wild boars, deer, chamois; and all kinds of birds, such as eagles, falcons, bustards, wild geese, pheasants, partridges, woodcock, snipe, and moorhen. for the sportsman the balkan peninsula is almost the only tract left in europe offering really wild game. king ferdinand, who recognises the tourist possibilities of his country, has lately encouraged the stocking of the rhodope streams with trout, to offer another attraction to the visitor. [illustration: guarding the flocks and herds] to king ferdinand's initiative also is due in a great measure the movement to develop the spas of bulgaria. the mountains abound in medicinal springs of various kinds. some of the most important have been used in a primitive fashion since the roman times, and under the turkish rule. recently, the mining section of the ministry of commerce and agriculture has succeeded in developing the mineral springs at sliven, banki, varshetz, and meritchléri. modern health-resorts have been built at banki, varshetz, hissar, and meritchléri. there are, all in all, more than 200 hot and mineral springs in bulgaria in some eighty different places. in the department of sofia there are twenty-three, the hottest of which is dolnia bania. the town of sofia itself possesses very good hot springs. the municipality has almost completed the building of public baths which will cost £60,000. though it is far from the mind of the bulgarian people to aim at making their country another playground for the west of europe, there is no doubt at all but that in the future bulgaria will attract, yearly, thousands of tourists--in the winter for snow-sports; in the spring and autumn for the scenery, the sport, the medicinal baths. at the present time there is practically no tourist traffic. travellers wishing to explore early a new country may be confident of getting in the capital, sofia, excellent hotel accommodation, and in the chief towns, such as stara zagora and philippopolis, decent and clean accommodation. but to see bulgaria properly it is necessary to take to horseback or wagon. at the capital it is possible to engage guides who speak english, and to hire horses or oxen for transport at an astonishingly cheap rate. the horse-carts of the country are springless and not too comfortable. the ox-wagons, also springless, are quite comfortable, as the oxen move along smoothly and without jerking. i have slept quite soundly in a bulgarian ox-wagon as it crawled over roadless country at night. mainly an agricultural country, bulgaria grows wheat, maize, barley, rye, oats, millet, spelt, rice (around philippopolis), potatoes, grapes, tobacco, mulberries (there is a silk industry), and roses. this cultivation of roses for the production of attar of roses is an almost exclusively bulgarian industry. most of the genuine attar of roses produced in the world comes from bulgaria. the production is a government monopoly, and i believe that if care is taken to secure flasks of attar with the government seal the purchaser may be sure of getting the genuine article. otherwise, as likely as not, oil of geraniums is substituted for the attar of roses, or is used as an adulterant. the rose valleys are grouped around stara zagora, and a visit to the farms in the flowering season--late spring--should be an incident of a balkan tour. the exports of bulgaria are chiefly cereals, and the imports manufactured goods of all kinds. but by a system of high protection and bonuses efforts are being made to establish manufacturing industries in the country. the oldest bulgarian industry is weaving, which has existed from ancient times as a home industry. the wool of the country was worked up into cloths, carpets, braids, serges, etc., which were in request throughout the ottoman empire. the most important weaving centres are pirdop, panaguiourichté, karlovo, sopot, koprivchtitza, klissoura, kalofer, gabrovo, trevna, sliven, kotel, and samokov. under turkish rule, these towns supplied cloth to the imperial army. bulgarian cloths were then held in esteem, and there was a demand for them in greece and in asia minor. in 1880 some capitalists decided to start modern workshops. the example was given by the towns of gabrovo and sliven, where there are now large factories, organised on modern principles. there are as many as twenty-six factories in other towns, among others, at samokov and kazanlik. bulgaria holds the first place for weaving in the balkan peninsula. lately, in addition to the making of woollens, cotton-spinning has been introduced, and there are several mills now working. so pronounced has been the growth of industrialism in bulgaria that labour legislation has been already found necessary. there are laws making regulations for the employment of apprentices, for the maximum number of hours in the working day, and the age of apprentices. the law of 1905 regulating the work of women and children lays down conditions for the employment of children under fifteen, and for women of all ages, occupied in factories, mines, quarries, workshops, and other industrial undertakings. children of either sex who have not attained the age of twelve years must not be employed in factories, workshops, at pit-mouths, in quarries, or sewers. however, children under twelve, but in no case under ten, may be employed in certain undertakings. children under fifteen and women under twenty-one cannot be employed in the subterranean parts of mines or quarries. the working day for children is limited to eight hours; night-work is forbidden to women, and to children under fifteen. on sundays all industrial establishments must close. in addition to these laws protecting workers there are laws protecting employers against foreign competition and granting them various bonuses. the general privileges, allowed to all industrial enterprises, are: the use of water-power, without payment, where this is not on a private property; exemption from customs duties for such machines and parts of machines, tools, and accessories, needful for the installation of enterprise, as are not made in the principality; exemption from customs duties for such building materials as are not found or made in the country; exemption from customs duties for raw material, when it is imported in order to be exported again, after having been worked up or finished off; a free grant of land belonging to the state, the province, or parish, for the installation of the factory; machinery, tools, coal, benzine, etc., for the factories are carried by the state railways at a rate 35 per cent below the lowest usual charge for those commodities. the law compels all public institutions to buy from native sources, even if native commodities should be as much as 15 per cent dearer than similar articles manufactured abroad. some industries have in addition special privileges allowed to them, such as exemptions from land taxation, monopoly privileges in certain districts, cheap coal from the state mines, etc. the bulgarian national system aims at supplementing the agricultural resources of the country with industrial enterprises in every possible way. but agriculture is not neglected by the government, and a special department exists to encourage improvement in cultivation and cattle-raising. this department has set up departmental councils, which distribute seeds every year. they make considerable grants to improve the breed of cattle. they also encourage progress in the farmers by organising competitions for poultry-rearing, fruit-growing, etc. scholarships have been granted to a number of young men who wish to take up farming, so as to allow them to study methods in foreign agricultural schools. further, there is an agricultural bank which, curiously enough, dates back from the turkish days. in 1863, midhat pasha, governor of the danubian vilayet (_i.e._ bulgaria), prepared a scheme for the creation of "urban" banks, which were intended to assist the rural population. the scheme having been approved by the turkish government, several of these banks were established. the peasants were allowed to repay in kind the loans which were advanced to them, the banks themselves selling the agricultural products. with the object of increasing the capital of the banks, a special tax was introduced obliging the farmers to hand every year to these institutions part of their produce in kind. these banks advanced money at 12 per cent interest--instead of up to 100 per cent, as the usurers generally did. the turkish government afterwards extended the reform to the whole empire, and obliged the peasants to create similar banks in all the district centres. during the russo-turkish war several of these banks lost their funds, the functionaries of the turkish government having carried them away, as well as the securities and other property belonging to the banks' clients. after the war, the debtors refused to pay, and only part of the property of the banks was restored by means of the issue of new bonds. in 1894 the bulgarian government passed a law setting on a firm foundation these agricultural banks, and they have continued since to do good work for the peasant proprietors. the bulgarian is a great road-maker. he is always at work on new rail-roads and carriage roads. i travelled twice in 1913 between mustapha pasha and kirk kilisse (the country was then in bulgarian occupation) with an interval of about a month between the journeys. during that month the bulgarians had made a wonderful improvement in the road. before, it had stopped short about a mile out of mustapha pasha and dwindled into a mere cart-track. after a month of bulgarian work it had been so much improved as to make twenty-four hours' difference in the time of the journey. this improvement was carried through in time of war when there was much occupation for the national energy in more important directions. in other places i noted the bulgarian's passion for a good road; and the roads in his own country were excellent. the road-making instinct is a great proof of a stable sense of civilisation. [illustration: an old street in philippopolis] the bulgarian railways are, with the quays at the ports, the property of the state, and are managed by a general board of state railways and ports. there are over 3000 railway servants fourteen lines traversing the country east to west and north to south, and some seventy-two railway stations. both varna and bourgas are connected by railway with the main lines. the lines have been constructed very cheaply (about £7500 a mile) considering the nature of the country which they traverse. they may be said to be profitable to the state since they return about 2-1/2 per cent interest on their cost of construction, despite the fact that they give many concessions to encourage local industries. the postal, telegraphic, and telephonic facilities in bulgaria are quite equal to the average of europe. there are about 200 post offices, about 7000 miles of telegraph wires, and 600 miles of long-distance telephone. the postal and telegraph administration yields a small surplus to the treasury. as to the trade of bulgaria the present is a difficult time to calculate its value, but before the war the imports were of an annual value of about £4,000,000, and the exports of an annual value of about £4,500,000. the chief import trade is from austria. england, turkey, and germany then follow in that order. the chief markets for bulgarian exports are turkey, england, germany, and austria. the chief financial institution of the country is the bulgarian national bank, which is a state institution, 87 per cent of its profits going to the bulgarian government. there are also state savings banks which are much favoured by the thrifty peasantry, there being about 30,000 depositors. the monetary units which have been adopted by bulgaria are the _lev_ (having the value of one franc) and the _stotinka_ (centime), being the hundredth part of a _lev_. for some years after the creation of the principality, the government found it impossible to introduce any national coins. it had to permit the circulation of all kinds of foreign money--servian, roumanian, russian, etc. in 1881 the government put into circulation two million francs of bulgarian copper money, but these, as well as the twelve millions of silver money which were issued in 1883-1884, proved quite insufficient to drive away the foreign money, so that the latter continued to be used in all commercial transactions. it was not until 1887 that the government prohibited the circulation of servian and roumanian coins. later russian money was also prohibited, and there is now a purely national currency. on the outbreak of the war in 1913 a _moratorium_ was declared, and the internal finance of the country was managed on a paper currency. the confidence of the people kept this paper money at its full value. i was never able to get any concession in exchanging english gold for paper. bulgaria, notwithstanding all the preoccupations of a young nation, finds time to encourage the arts. as the illustrations to this volume will show, there is a flourishing school of native art in bulgaria. to nicolas pavlovitch (born 1835, died 1889) belongs the honour of having been the father of modern bulgarian art. he graduated at the academies in vienna and munich, and, after visiting the various museums in dresden and prague, exhibited during 1860 in belgrade two pictures whose subjects had been suggested by ancient bulgarian history. he then went to petrograd and moscow. in 1861 he returned to his native country, where he endeavoured, by means of his lithographs and pictures of subjects both ancient and modern, to stimulate his compatriots to political and intellectual life. he also tried to reform and modernise church painting in accordance with the requirements of modern artistic technique, and made two unsuccessful attempts at opening a school of painting. he painted portraits, and, in the palace of the pasha of roustchouk, he illustrated a turkish history of the janissaries. in 1896 a state school of painting was founded at sofia, and there is now a fine art gallery in the capital. but most of the artistic impulse has come from abroad, and the most notable names in bulgarian art after that of pavlovitch are piotrovsky (polish), boloungaro (italian), de fourçade (french), sliapin (russian). the first art exhibition was organised in 1887 by ivan angeloff, teacher in the gymnasium of sofia and a graduate of the munich academy of fine arts. this exhibition, which contained three pictures painted in bulgaria and a number of sketches and studies dating from the artist's student days in munich, as well as drawings by students of the gymnasium, was held in one of the drawing-rooms of the gymnasium in honour of the prince, who had recently been elected to the bulgarian throne. some five years later, on the occasion of the first bulgarian industrial and agricultural exhibition, held at plovdiv in 1892, the first collective art exhibition was organised, the productions of the various bulgarian artists being exhibited. king ferdinand is a consistent patron of bulgarian art, and has the richest collection of pictures in bulgaria, distributed among his palaces at sofia, plovdiv, and varna. m. audrey protitch, in a recent monograph on bulgarian art (to which i am indebted for most of the facts above) gives this critical summary of bulgarian achievement: if we exclude historical painting, which, since the early and specialised attempts of nicolas pavlovitch, has been almost entirely neglected in bulgaria, bulgarian artists have tried their hand at almost every form of art. ethnographical pictures, national scenes, pictures of military subjects, landscapes, interiors, flower pieces, animals, portraits, icons, allegories, mythical subjects, ruins, architecture--all these are fully represented in the art gallery of the national museum, and have figured in nearly all the art exhibitions. the first place among these varieties is held by landscapes, _genre_, and portraits, whether in oil, water-colour, or pastel. the weak point of bulgarian artists is undoubtedly undraped figures, especially undraped feminine figures, the only exception being stephan ivanoff, who however abandoned this class of work to become the best icon-painter in bulgaria. bulgarian art may be called national only as regards its contents, but neither in form nor technique. as we have already said, the subjects are taken from bulgarian scenery or from peasant and town life. the sense of human form is gradually developing, with the exception of the feminine body, which remains proscribed by public taste. this last circumstance accounts, to a great extent, for the low level of sculpture in bulgaria. decorative art is making rapid strides, owing to the great amount of building going on during recent years. artistic form and technique are in a transitional phase, all the younger artists waging war against the traditional and conventional styles and the foreign influences that have hitherto hindered the free development of art in bulgaria, and striving to evolve forms more in conformity with the contents of bulgarian art. about bulgarian literature i can say nothing--lacking a guidance of a competent critic or a knowledge of the language--except that it is ambitious and aspiring. but it can hardly be expected that a language which is, after all, but a dialect of russian should ever produce a great literature. the bulgarian national pride is so strong that probably there will never be a movement to make russian the literary language of the people; but in that would seem to be the best hope of a bulgarian literature. chapter xi how bulgaria is governed to attempt to describe how bulgaria is governed is to enter inevitably into the realms of controversy. in theory the system of government is purely democratic: and many bulgarians are confident that the practice follows the theory closely. personally i have my doubts. the working of a fully democratic constitution seems to be tempered a great deal by the aristocratic powers reserved to the king in council at times of crisis: and this tempering is probably necessary. the ancient bulgarian system of government was without a doubt the despotic tribal system of nomads. under turkish rule, the territory of bulgaria was administered as the vilayet of the danube under a turkish pasha; and not always badly administered as is proved by the fact that bulgarian industry and thrift was allowed to raise the province into the most flourishing one of turkey-in-europe. but until the treaty of paris in 1856, turkey had no real political organisation. being a theocratic state, all her public institutions emanated from the kaliph, as the representative of mohammed. the koran took the place of civil and criminal law, and the duty of its ministers was to punish all those who broke its commandments. every parish had a "cadi," who was appointed by the spiritual chief. the cadi concentrated in his hands all jurisdictions, judging without appeal cases, civil and criminal, and observing no fixed rules of procedure in the application of the few principles which the koran contained on the subject of civil relations. in certain special cases, the sheik-ul-islam of constantinople, the highest religious tribunal in turkey, had the right to revise the decisions of the cadis. at the congress of paris, turkey, as one of the participating parties, was admitted into the concert of european powers. then civil tribunals were for the first time created in turkey. in 1867 they were introduced in the vilayet of the danube by the then governor-general, midhat pasha. in 1877 the russians liberated bulgaria from the turks. after the treaty of berlin prince dondoukoff-korsakoff framed a provisional system of government for bulgaria. then a russian law professor, gradovsky, with the help of general domontovity, framed a constitution for bulgaria. this was based upon the commune being, as in russia, the organic unit of administrative control, and was aristocratic rather than democratic in its general character, though it provided for a far more liberal system of government than that existing in russia herself. [illustration: a grave question] the draft constitution was submitted to a constituent assembly elected by the bulgarian people at tirnova in february 1879. the assembly elected a committee of fifteen members to consider the draft. this committee revised the draft, making it less democratic than before. the assembly rejected their revision and set to work to recast the constitution, making it far more liberal, and including a provision for universal suffrage. the constitution thus revised was affirmed and has been in force since, with occasional suspensions when the prince for a time took autocratic power. since 1883 the constitution has not been suspended. the main principles of the bulgarian constitution are: (1) separation of public authorities into legislative, executive and judiciary. (2) equality of citizens, as regards civil and political rights. (3) inviolability of the person, residence, property, and correspondence. (4) liberty of conscience, liberty of the press, liberty of public meetings, and liberty to form associations. (5) direct and secret universal suffrage for the election of members of the national assembly, and departmental and municipal councils. (6) local self-government. the authorities under the constitution are: 1. the king, who is head of the army and navy, has the supreme executive power and can appoint and dismiss ministers, can prorogue parliament but not for longer than two months, and can dissolve parliament. the king may issue regulations and order measures, having the obligatory force of laws, whenever the state is threatened with immediate internal or external danger. all such measures, however, must be adopted by the cabinet council, and entail the collective responsibility of all the ministers. they must be submitted to the approval of the national assembly in the course of its earliest session. a special section of the constitution expressly forbids the levying, by means of such extraordinary regulations, of new taxes or duties, the national assembly having alone the right to impose them. 2. the national assembly, elected by manhood suffrage through a secret ballot. every deputy has the right to make propositions and to introduce bills, if he is supported by one-fourth of the members present. the national assembly may amend the bills and propositions introduced by the government. the deputies have the right to make interpellations. by means of this, the deputies can force individual ministers or the entire government to explain their line of conduct and to state their intentions on some special matter, or as regards their general policy. the national assembly may appoint commissions of inquiry or institute inquiries as regards the conduct of the government. it may submit to the crown special addresses. there is no upper house, but for special occasions a "grand national assembly" is convoked. this has the same composition as the ordinary national assembly, and its members are elected in the same way. the only difference between the two is that the number of members of a grand national assembly is twice that of the ordinary national assembly, every electoral unit of 20,000 inhabitants sending two deputies instead of one. the grand national assembly may decide only those matters which have necessitated its convocation. a grand national assembly is called in the following cases: 1. to decide questions of exchanging or ceding a portion of the territory of bulgaria. 2. to revise the constitution. 3. to elect a new prince when the reigning family becomes extinct, owing to absence of descendants who can occupy the throne. 4. to appoint regents during the minority of the heir to the throne. 5. to authorise the prince to accept the government of another state. every order must bear, in addition to the signature of the prince, that of one minister or of all the ministers, these latter being the responsible representatives of the executive authority. the ministers are held responsible to the prince and to the national assembly for all their acts. this responsibility is collective for all the ministers in the case of measures which have been decided by the council of ministers, and individual with respect to the acts of the ministers as heads of the various state departments. what i have described represents in effect a complete system of representative and responsible government. but observation of bulgarian politics during and since the war has suggested to me that the king and his ministers really can exercise a practical oligarchy: and it is probably necessary that they should. in the bulgarian national assembly there is a very strong socialist party, and the parliamentary life of the kingdom is stormy. chapter xii the future of bulgaria it is impossible, in my opinion, to doubt the future of bulgaria. the disasters of 1914 would seem to suggest that the bulgarian nation was without the moral balance to withstand the intoxication of victory. but whilst the events of that unhappy year showed the lack of that balance, the fault was with the leaders of the people rather than with the people themselves. the misfortune of bulgaria in this generation of the nation's life--a misfortune which is being rapidly repaired--is that she has no middle class: and no class with any "tradition" of leadership behind it. there are the peasants--admirable material for nation-making--heroic, thrifty, moral, industrious, practical. above the peasants there is no class from which to draw a good supply of competent administrators, law-makers, officers, professional men. the peasant has his own limited capacities for leadership; but they are limited. i have encountered him frequently as mayor of some little commune, as captain of an infantry regiment, and admired his administrative abilities, within a narrow and familiar scope, exceedingly. but the peasant does not go higher than that. it is the son of the peasant with some extra gift of cleverness who is "given an education," who becomes legislator, official, cleric, diplomat. in many cases he does not take his polish well. advanced education for the ambitious balkan lad has in the past generally meant education abroad; and in paris or vienna or petrograd the young bulgarian, plunged into an altogether new life of luxury and of frivolity, often suffered a loss of natural strength of fibre for which no book-learning could compensate. that evil will pass away. it is now possible to get a fairly advanced liberal education without going beyond bulgaria. also the people are becoming more immune to the effects of western civilisation. measles is a dangerous, indeed generally fatal, disease in countries to which it is first introduced. but in time immunity comes to make it almost harmless. bulgaria's material for a modern national organisation is being quickly improved by the upgrowth of a middle class whose sons will be able to keep their bulgarian qualities even under the circumstances of life in paris or other great modern city. in future, then, the courage of the people is likely to have a wiser, more reasonable leadership, and, with that, it will do wonders. but i do not wish to be misunderstood as representing that to-day the official classes and the leaders of the bulgarian nation are generally unworthy or incompetent. that would be very far from the truth. but it is the truth that as yet bulgaria has not a class sufficient in numbers and strong enough in tradition to supply her needs in leadership. how could it be otherwise, seeing that the nation is not much more than a generation old, and has had to begin working up its organisation from bed-rock? the events of 1913-1914 have left bulgaria weak in her greatest element of national strength--in the numbers of her citizens. the wars with the turks and the subsequent war with the other balkan states, the ravages of cholera and, one may unhappily conclude too, the ravages of hunger after the dreadful ordeals of the successive campaigns, have taken heavy toll of bulgarian manhood. but the country will "stock up" quickly. its birth-rate is the highest in the world; and its "effective" birth-rate, _i.e._ the proportion of survivals of those born, is also the highest. if only a period of peace can be secured, all will be well in time. [illustration: a young man of the choumla district] poor as were her acquisitions of territory compared with her hopes from the war, bulgaria at least won a free outlet to the open sea. her ports on the black sea were always felt to be of limited use, because traffic to and from them had to pass through the dardanelles and was therefore at the mercy of turkey in case of war. but now bulgaria has free access to the aegean sea, and though without a good port has a possible port there. considerations of strategic position and of territorial acquisition are, however, of minor importance in considering bulgaria's future. it is in the character of the bulgarian race and the conditions of life encouraging the growth of that sturdy character in which the hopes of that future are bound up. the young bulgarian is born usually in the country, and usually also as one of a large family. here is an interesting table--compiled before the war--showing at once the proportion of urban and rural population and the prevalence of large families in bulgaria: ----------------------------------------------------------------- | | number of such || | number of such | | number of| families. || number of| families. | |members of|--------------------||members of|--------------------| | families.| | in the || families.| | in the | | | in towns.| country.|| | in towns.| country.| |----------------------------------------------------------------| | 1 | 19,299 | 11,807 || 11 | 737 | 11,506 | | 2 | 22,311 | 25,035 || 12 | 340 | 7,570 | | 3 | 28,182 | 45,747 || 13 | 180 | 4,853 | | 4 | 29,732 | 66,554 || 14 | 79 | 3,446 | | 5 | 27,884 | 82,771 || 15 | 44 | 2,187 | | 6 | 21,746 | 83,635 || 16 | 39 | 1,499 | | 7 | 13,636 | 69,216 || 17 | 16 | 1,069 | | 8 | 7,619 | 48,218 || 18 | 14 | 786 | | 9 | 3,646 | 30,756 || 19 | 8 | 528 | | 10 | 1,757 | 19,005 || 20 | 1 | 368 | -----------------------------------------------------------------the bulgarian infant in the beginning of life will have no handicap of artificial feeding. the "feeding bottle" is practically unknown in his country. from the very early age of three this bulgarian infant may begin to go to school. primary education is obligatory. the infant schools are for the preparation of the children for the primary schools. infants between the ages of three and five years are admitted in the lower divisions, and those between five and six in the higher division. they are taught games, songs, drawing, manual work, and simple arithmetic. the teaching in these schools is entrusted exclusively to school mistresses. the proclaimed object of the primary school is "to give the future citizen a moral education, to develop him physically, and to give him the most indispensable knowledge." the studies last four years. the school year begins on september 1 and lasts, in the towns, until june 25, and in the villages until the beginning of may. thus the whole summer and part of the autumn is exempt from school duties--a wise exemption in an agricultural community where the children, and perhaps some of the teachers, have to work in the fields. the subjects taught include morals, catechism, bulgarian and ancient bulgarian history, civic instruction, geography, arithmetic, natural history, drawing, singing, gymnastics, manual work (for boys), and embroidery (for girls). every parish or village of more than fifty houses must have at least one primary school. the hamlets and villages of less than fifty houses are considered, for educational purposes, as parishes. the enactment rendering public instruction obligatory extends to all children between the ages of six and twelve. the only temporary or permanent exception allowed by the law is in favour of children physically or intellectually unfit. disobedience to the law is punished by fines. ordinary education ceases with the primary schools or with the private schools for mohammedans and jews which the bulgarian law allows to be maintained. the cost to the state of the education of each child at these schools is less than £1 a year, of which the state provides rather more than half, the communes the other half. thus the young bulgarian gets a fairly sound start in life, so far as schooling is concerned, if he intends to go on the land or to follow an industrial occupation. if he, or she, has greater ambitions, there are gymnasia for boys and high schools for girls. at these gymnasia the subjects of instruction are religious knowledge, bulgarian, french, german, russian, latin and greek languages, history, geography and civic instruction, arithmetic, geometry and geometrical drawing, algebra, descriptive geometry, physics, chemistry, natural science, psychology, logic and ethics, and gymnastics. the subjects of instruction at the girls' high schools include most of those mentioned above and also hygiene and the rearing of children, domestic economy, embroidery, music and singing. there are further special pedagogical schools for the training of teachers, and there is a university at sofia having chairs for historico-philological, physico-mathematical, and legal courses. this university is beginning to take the place of foreign universities for the training of young bulgaria for public life. the training is narrower but, on the whole, probably better from a national point of view. only the more seasoned minds of a young nation should be submitted to the test of foreign study. but let us get back to the young bulgarian who is going on the land. at the age of twelve he leaves school and henceforth devotes himself wholly, instead of partly, to work on his father's farm. he begins, too, to be introduced to the work of the village commune, though he may not take any part in its control for some time yet. with great care the makers of the bulgarian constitution have tried to guarantee the independence of the communes. the central government must take no part in the administration of the communes, nor maintain any agents of its own to interfere with their affairs. the commune, which forms the basis of the state fabric, enjoys thus a complete autonomy. it is the smallest unit in the administrative organisation of the country. every district is subdivided into communes, which are either urban or rural. every bulgarian subject must belong to a commune and figure in its registers, or else he is a vagrant and punishable as such. the commune is governed by a mayor and council, and at the age of twenty-five the bulgarian is eligible to become a councillor. not only is the commune the organ of local government, but it has much to do with the control of the land affairs of this nation of peasant proprietors. at nineteen the bulgarian youth, at seventeen the bulgarian girl are marriageable, and their parents set about the work of mating them as quickly as possible. marriages are almost always arranged by the parents, and it is not usual for husband and wife to come from different communes. after marriage the bulgarian wife is supposed to devote herself exclusively to family life and not to wish for any social life. there is an almost _harem_ system of seclusion, but--except that the bulgarian is monogamous in theory and generally in practice, whilst the turk is polygamous in theory and usually monogamous by force of circumstances, since he cannot afford more than one wife--the bulgarian idea of home life shows evidence of turkish influences. the bulgarian civil law gives to the church complete control of the matters of marriage and divorce. divorce is allowed on various grounds, but is not common. adultery does not of itself entail the dissolution of marriage. the party which has been found guilty of adultery is not allowed to marry the partner in guilt. the custody of the children, in case of divorce, is given to the innocent party, except when the children are below the age of five years, in which case they are left with the mother. mutual consent of the married is not a ground for divorce. all marriages contracted in opposition to the canon laws are considered null. the diocesan council is the sole competent authority to judge affairs of divorce, its decisions being submitted to the approval of a metropolitan bishop. i think gibbon was responsible in the first instance for ascribing to the bulgarians a low moral character. but all the evidence that came under my notice suggested that the bulgarians were exceptionally virtuous. in their hospitals i found no cases of disease arising from vice. in their camps they had no women followers. i passed through many villages which their troops had traversed, and never observed any evidence of women having been interfered with. [illustration: a bulgarian farm] the young bulgarian, married--without much romance in the wooing, but perhaps none the less happily married for that according to his ideas--tilling his little farm, joins now in the main current of the national life. he is exceedingly industrious, rising early and working late. his food is frugal--whole-meal bread, hard cheese, soft cheese (which is like rank butter), vegetables, very occasionally meat and eggs. from his turk cousins he has acquired a love of sweetmeats, and so for his treats lollies and cakes are essential. but also he is a slav and likes a glass of _vodka_ on sundays and feast days. he is very sober, however, and drunkenness is rare. his chief drink is water, with now and again tea made in the russian fashion, or coffee made in the turkish fashion. at the village _cafés_ these are the chief refreshments--_vodka_, tea and coffee. but a light beer is also brewed in bulgaria, and drunk by the inhabitants. both as regards food and drink, however, the bulgarians' habits are usually governed by an intense frugality. the country gives no very rich return to the peasant. he almost invariably marries young and has a large family. the household budget thus leaves very little margin over from the strictly necessary food-expenses. that margin the bulgarian prefers in the main to save rather than to dissipate. the bulgarian is economical, not to say grasping. he dreams always of getting a little richer. in his combination of the instincts of a cultivator and of a trader he resembles a great deal the french norman peasantry. the duties of national defence make heavy demands on the national industry in bulgaria. training for military service is universal and compulsory. there is no hope at all that there will be any lightening of military burdens for some time to come, since the 1914 wars have left bulgaria in a position which the national pride refuses to accept as final. the burdens are borne cheerfully. the patience of the bulgarian peasant soldiery during the awful campaigns of 1913 and 1914 was heroic, and their steadiness in the field showed how well they had profited by their training. for this bulgarian nation, so frugal, industrious, persevering and courageous there must be a splendid future. it has all the essential elements of greatness and must overcome in time the misfortunes of the past. if but the fates will shield bulgaria for a time from the desperate policy of attempting any new war of revenge or of enterprise, her growing economic strength, her superiority in industry and in application to other peoples of the peninsula will in time assert themselves, and give her a strong position in the balkans. chapter xiii the responsibility of europe as this book goes to the press there is again war in the balkans. it is only a little war certainly, as yet confined within the limits of the "autonomous state" of albania, that quaint creation of the ambitions of austria and italy, which in its foundation suggested the custom of one of the old fiji cannibal tribes--that of keeping alive and fattening a victim whom it was intended to eat. austria desires the adriatic shore of the balkan peninsula: so does italy. they cannot agree either to fight out the issue now or to abandon their conflicting ambitions; and they have been responsible for creating "independent albania," which one of them hopes to devour up in the near future when the other one is in difficulties. this war, small as it now is, threatens, however, to spread to a great one; and though the danger may pass away now for the moment, it is certain that one near day albania will be the cause of another balkan war: for it is to kindle that war that she has been brought into existence. even to-day the position is immediately threatening. the creation of albania gave to montenegro, to servia, and to greece a serious disappointment. in particular was it a blow to montenegro, whose heroic little people had through centuries borne the chief brunt of the fighting against the turk: they rose to where their sovran eagle sails, they kept their faith, their freedom, on the height, chaste, frugal, savage, arm'd by day and night against the turk; whose inroad nowhere scales their headlong passes, but his footstep fails, and red with blood the crescent reels from fight before their dauntless hundreds, in prone flight by thousands down the crags and thro' the vales. o smallest among peoples! rough rock-throne of freedom! warriors beating back the swarm of turkish islam for five hundred years, great tsernogora! never since thine own black ridges drew the cloud and brake the storm has breathed a race of mightier mountaineers.[2] [2] tennyson's well-known sonnet. by the creation of albania montenegro was debarred from any great territorial gain out of the partition of the turks' old estate in the balkans, and was shut back on her mountains, as it seemed irrevocably. servia and greece were left with almost as serious grievances. albania therefore is a constant source of temptation to a war of enterprise on the part of three of the balkan nations, and the war only awaits a favourable opportunity to break out: a pretext for it can always be supplied at a day's notice by some border collision with the wild and lawless albanian clans. should the war in albania spread to her neighbours, bulgaria, outraged and mortified by the treaty of bucharest and again robbed and humiliated by turkish encroachments on her powerlessness after that treaty, in all probability will seize the opportunity to make a war of requital on some one of her neighbours, and the balkan peninsula will then be again drenched in blood. there will be again a cry of shocked horror from western europe as to these "quarrelsome and bloodthirsty" balkan peoples. but in fair play and justice there is more reason for the little balkan peoples to be shocked and horrified at the cold-blooded policy of the great powers who, for their own ends, create conditions which make peace in the balkans impossible. the truth is that these little shreds of peoples, in the blood-soaked peninsula which destiny marked out to be the great battle-ground of races, have been used as pawns in the great game of european diplomacy ever since the fall of napoleon. it will be recalled that one of the earlier dreams of that ambitious genius was to enter the service of the sublime porte and reorganise the power of turkey. the crumbling away of the power of the turkish empire, which had given centuries of anxiety to christian europe, was at that time apparent. a great genius might then have restored the fighting power and the prestige of islam. but napoleon turned to other work and turkey went on decaying. there soon arose a question as to who should be the legatee of the "sick man of europe," and legacy hunters, some fawning, some clamorous, gathered at his bedside. to some of these it soon occurred that there would be wisdom in hastening the process of division, and that a means to do this was to question the moral right of the turk to the christian provinces over which he ruled. in the state of public feeling in europe at the time it was most convenient to question this right on the ground of the religious intolerance of the turk. without joining the party of the "pro-turks" it is clear that that ground was more of a pretext than a reality. the turk is not a religious persecutor to anything like the extent to which the christian has been a religious persecutor. on coming into europe he never sought, for example, to destroy the greek church, and i do not think that there is any clear evidence that turkish misrule was founded at any period on intolerance carried to the degree of murder for faith's sake. the fault rather of the porte's rule was the dreadful corruption and incompetence of the turk as an administrator and the turkish ideas of the status of women-folk--ideas which gave to moslem women rights derived from their moslem men-relatives, but regarded christian women as if they were cattle without owners. i think that it was the adoption by european powers of religion as a pretext for interfering in the balkans which has been largely responsible for the religious bitterness there. it would make the situation more clear and give a better hope for the future if western europe would frankly recognise that the fervid interest taken in the balkan peninsula for about a century has had no other reason generally than territory-hunger. when turkey began showing signs of falling to pieces, russia made an early claim to the succession of "the sick man's" estate. russia wanted a warm water-port; and her territories would have been nicely rounded off by the acquisition of turkey in europe. these were the real reasons, not publicly expressed, for her balkan policy. less real reasons, kept in the foreground, were that the head of the russian orthodox church was at constantinople, that russia was the kinsman of the slav populations in the balkans, and that her duty and right was to liberate co-religionists who were suffering from religious persecution. great britain was the great obstacle to the desire of russia to march down upon constantinople. her real objection was that with russia on the bosphorus the control of the mediterranean might pass into the hands of the rival who seemed to wish to dispute with her for the mastery of india. her expressed reasons had some vague declarations about the "chivalry of the turk." austria developed her ambition to suzerainty over the balkan peninsula mainly on the strength of a claim to be the heir of the old holy roman empire, and as such possessing an hereditary right to rule over the old seat of that empire in the east. italy was forced into a balkan policy by the impossibility of allowing a rival power to settle on the other side of the adriatic, threatening her whole east coast. germany and france came into balkan politics chiefly as allies of powers with more direct interests, although both have now fears and hopes regarding the asiatic dominions of the sublime porte and shape their balkan policy accordingly. [illustration: a young woman of the roustchouk district] the way in which, by the congress of berlin, the treaty of san stefano was changed illustrated well the fact that, as regards the balkan peninsula, europe was far more concerned to advance the ambitions of the western powers than to ameliorate the condition of the near eastern peoples under turkish government. the other powers' jealousy of russia vetoed the creation of the big bulgaria suggested then, because it was feared that bulgarian gratitude to the power which had been responsible for her liberation would make the new kingdom a mere appanage of russia. when it was manifest afterwards that bulgarian gratitude was not of that high and disinterested quality, and that the young bulgarian nation was, though semi-eastern in origin, sufficiently european to play for her own hand, and her own hand only, in national affairs, europe had a spasm of remorse and approved when bulgaria took advantage of a turkish misfortune to gather to herself eastern roumelia. the only power that objected to that acquisition was russia. her eagerness for a big bulgaria had faded away with the knowledge that bulgaria, big or little, was not inclined to submit to dictation in national affairs from russia. the position after the treaty of berlin in the balkans was this: four virtually independent small nations held old turkish provinces, and each desired eagerly, and claimed on historical grounds, extensions of their territory at the expense of the turk or at the expense of one another. each was tempted to try the means to its end of intrigue with one of the great powers. these powers, still keeping in view their own ambitions, looked upon and treated the balkan states as instruments to be used or to be discarded without reference to the happiness of the balkans and with sole reference to the "european situation." put a group of hungry and badly trained boys in a cake-shop; set over them as a board of appeal unjust, selfish, and intriguing masters; and you may not expect peace. that has been for nearly a century the position in the balkans. the balkan league between bulgaria, servia, greece, and montenegro, formed about 1912, offered the first steady hope of a peaceful settlement in the peninsula. there was the beginning there of a movement which might have developed on the lines of the swiss federation and grown to a balkan power in which the slav element and the graeco-roman element could have combined, in spite of differences of language and of religion. the fact that roumania stood out of the league was the first unfavourable circumstance. true, roumania is not a balkan state in the strict sense of the word, but her national destiny is clearly to be either a partner with the balkan states or the humble friend of one of the great powers on her borders. this fact is recognised now, and for the time being roumania is actually the head of a loose balkan combination formed in 1913. more dangerous to the future of the balkan league than the abstention of roumania was the fact that it had to face the strong hostility of austria, and therefore of the triple alliance; and it had hardly the warm sympathy of russia and was not therefore strongly favoured by the triple entente. great britain, whose interests were all to be served and not hindered by the growth of a balkan power, was the only strong friend the balkan league had; and her friendship was not strong enough to make her support a matter of definite national policy. if europe had had an unselfish interest in the balkans it would have welcomed the balkan league and made every effort to consolidate its unity. true, the balkan league had as its first task the robbing of turkey of her european provinces. but turkey was herself in the position of a robber; and it had come to be a matter of practical agreement among the european powers that the christian provinces of turkey would soon have to pass from under the rule of the sublime porte. the only question left was "how?" the balkan league offered to answer that question in a way satisfactory to all unselfish interests. but the selfish interests of europe were not served by the league. austria, dreaming of one day marching down to the aegean, saw that that hope would be shattered if a strong balkan federation held the balkan peninsula. italy was afraid of another power on the adriatic--an unwise fear, because her true national policy should have welcomed a new check to austria. russia was not eager to welcome a balkan federation, in which possibly the slav element would not predominate and which, in any case, would get to constantinople inevitably in the course of events. a bevy of eager jealousies set to work to put obstacles in the path of the balkan league. those powers which were friendly to it were mildly friendly; those which were hostile were relentlessly hostile. it would be perhaps too much to say that if the european powers had been benevolently neutral to the balkan league it would have survived and set firm the foundations of a balkan federation. but it is reasonable to believe that an actively benevolent europe, acting with firmness and impartiality and without seeking to serve any selfish aims, would have succeeded in keeping the league together and saving the series of fratricidal wars which began in 1913 and will be continued as soon as the present exhaustion has been relieved. instead of an actively benevolent there was an actively malevolent europe. the plans of the balkan league contemplated a division of the territory which is now albania between greece, servia, and montenegro. the decree of the powers, issued because austria made a "bluffing threat" of war if servia were allowed territory on the adriatic, was that albania should be an independent kingdom. it had at the time no cities, no railways, no roads worthy of the name, no civilised organisation, no basis at all of national life. several different racial types and religions found a shelter within its area. the only useful purpose that could be served by creating albania as an independent state was to give the balkan league a cause of disunion, and to provide a _pied-à-terre_ for austria for future operations in the balkans. if the "holy roman empire" had abandoned all thought of getting to the aegean there would have been no albania. the balkan league was already very shaky when this bone of contention was thrown among its members. servia, montenegro, and greece, now deprived of a share of their spoil, sought to obtain from bulgaria, who was in the position, as it were, of residuary legatee, some concessions out of her share. bulgaria, embittered at the time by the fact that roumania had taken advantage of the situation to demand a territorial grant south of the danube, was unwisely obstinate and would make no concession to any of her partners. the issue had to be fought out through a disastrous war in which bulgaria, servia, and greece were bled further of their manhood, already sadly thinned in the war with turkey. the albania which was the chief of the causes of that fratricidal war was duly constituted, and prince william of wied appointed mpret or king. at once there was trouble on all the albanian boundaries, but chiefly in the south, where the province of epirus wished to be greek and rose in revolt against the new albanian government. the effect of that revolt, which was generally successful, was that the epirus district seems likely to win a measure of local government or home rule founded on the following chief conditions: the country is divided into two administrative districts known as koritza and argyrocastro. these will be governed by two prefects nominated by the albanian government. in all local councils the number of elected members is to be three in excess of the _ex officio_ members. all existing greek religious institutions and privileges are to remain unaltered. the greek language is to be taught in the three first classes of the popular schools, together with the albanian language. in the schools of purely greek communities only the greek language will be taught. the greek language is to be recognised in matters of local administration and the law courts in the two districts. the native epirotes are to remain armed, and are to be incorporated in the _gendarmerie_ commanded by dutch officers. all other volunteers are to leave the country. albania is to grant a full amnesty. the new regime is to be organised and its execution controlled by the international commission, and the commissioners are to visit the country to see that its provisions are being given effect to. thus already it is recognised that within the small territory of albania there has been included one district which is so greek in sympathy that it cannot be administered under albanian law. [illustration: at the well] the next development in albania was that essad pasha, the albanian chief who had, more than any other, assisted to form an independent albania, fell out with prince william and was arrested. a state of tension between him and prince william had increased as evidence of essad pasha's complicity in a revolutionary movement became known. a letter written by essad pasha fell into prince william's hands, in which essad pasha ordered his agents to persuade people to obey only his commands and not those of the prince. the prince thereupon summoned him to the palace, and after a stormy scene essad pasha tendered his resignation and returned home. the prince then held a council with his dutch officers, and decided to compel the disbandment of essad pasha's bodyguard. a dutch officer conveyed the prince's command to essad pasha. he at first appeared to consent, and then told his men to resist. they began to fire upon the prince's armed adherents in the street. austrian and italian detachments landed, and a party under the command of an italian officer arrested essad pasha. that arrest created fresh trouble, and a few days later prince william abandoned his kingdom and took refuge on a foreign warship. repenting of that precipitate step, he returned to his capital again, and at the time of writing (june 1914) he is still there under the protection of his foreign soldiers; but an insurgent force holds the field, demanding "restoration of moslem rule." it is not too much to say that independent albania has been still-born. probably neither austria nor italy expected such a quick collapse of their artificial creation. but that it would collapse one day must have been within their knowledge and their desire, which was to put a sick infant in the place of a sick man. as it happens, the collapse has come when neither of them is in a position to benefit immediately by it. neither is prepared for an expedition to the balkans. but whilst not serving the interests of the powers who created albania, this new development has set the balkan pot seething again. a smell of blood taints the air and general fighting may follow. albania has provided the latest example of how the selfish ambition of western european powers can inflict woe upon the near east. agreed that these peoples of the near east are very cantankerous and very prone by nature to fly at one another's throats, still i maintain that if western europe ceased from interference there would be a better chance of peace in the balkans, and if she interfered benevolently and unselfishly she could make the certainty of peace. if one could imagine the powers of europe reformed as regards their foreign policy, and genuinely anxious to smooth away the troubles of these sorely vexed balkan peoples, the chief danger left to tranquillity would be the religious intolerance which grows so rankly in the peninsula--between christian and christian more than between moslem and christian. there needs to be put up in church or mosque of every balkan village the inscription of abul fazl: o god, in every temple i see people that see thee, and in every language i hear spoken, people praise thee. polytheism and islàm feel after thee. each religion says, "thou art one, without equal." if it be a mosque, people murmur the holy prayer, and if it be a christian church, people ring the bell from love to thee. sometimes i frequent the christian cloister, and sometimes the mosque. but it is thee whom i search from temple to temple. thy elect have no dealings with either heresy or orthodoxy; for neither of them stands behind the screen of thy truth. heresy to the heretic, and religion to the orthodox. but the dust of the rose-petal belongs to the heart of the perfume-seller. or the english poet's rendering of it: shall the rose cry to the lotus "no flower thou"? the palm call to the cypress "i alone am fair"? the mango spurn the melon at his foot? "mine is the one fruit alla made for man." look how the living pulse of alla beats thro' all his world. if every single star should shriek its claim "i only am in heaven," why that were such sphere-music as the greek had hardly dream'd of. there is light in all, and light, with more or less of shade, in all man-modes of worship.... i hate the rancour of their castes and creeds, i let men worship as they will, i reap no revenue from the field of unbelief. i cull from every faith and race the best and bravest soul for counsellor and friend. i loathe the very name of infidel. i stagger at the korân and the sword. i shudder at the christian and the stake. in regard also to this tendency to religious strife the older civilisations of europe could give help if they would, rather than hindrance as they do now, encouraging and stimulating creed jealousies. even well-meaning and unselfish friends of the balkans contribute often to spread evil tendencies because they take up the attitude of blind partisanship for one particular balkan people, and refuse either to give charity to the others or chiding to their pet people. it would be neither truthful nor good policy to attempt to maintain that the great powers of europe are altogether responsible for the blood torrents which are always flowing in the balkans. but they have had a great share of the responsibility in the past; are very guilty in the present. since gaining some knowledge of the balkan peoples i have always nursed a hope, a very desperate hope, that the powers of western europe would repent of selfish ambitions at the eleventh hour, and would adopt a policy of real help to the struggling nationalities of the near east. they are kept so miserable and yet naturally are really so amiable, those little peoples. the bulgarians in particular i learned to regard with something of affection. their good temper and their industry and their patience recalled tolstoy's pen-pictures of the russian peasants: all of these peasants, even those who had quarrelled with him about the hay, or those whom he had injured if their intention was not to cheat him, saluted him gaily as they passed, and showed no anger for what he had done, or any remorse or even remembrance that they had tried to defraud him. all was swallowed up and forgotten in this sea of joyous, universal labour. god gave the day, god gave the strength; and the day and the strength consecrated the labour and yielded their own reward. no one dreamed of asking, why this work, and who enjoyed the fruits of it? these questions were secondary and of no account.... levin had often looked with interest at this life, had often been tempted to become one with the people, living their lives; but to-day the impression of what he had seen in the bearing of vanka parmenof towards his young wife gave him for the first time a clear and definite desire to exchange the burdensome, idle, artificial, selfish existence which he led, for the laborious, simple, pure, and delightful life of the peasantry. the elder, who had been sitting with him, had already gone home; the neighbouring villagers were wending their way indoors; while those who lived at a distance were preparing to spend the night in the meadow, and getting ready for supper. levin, without being seen, still lay on the hay, looking, listening, and thinking. the peasantry, gathered on the prairie, scarcely slept throughout the short summer night. at first there were gay gossip and laughter while everybody was eating; then followed songs and jests. all the long, laborious day had left no trace upon them, except of its happiness.... the bulgarian peasants are indeed very close to the russians of the south, where there has been a mixture of tartar blood. simple, laborious, religious, frugal, they deserve better than to be food for powder. index adrianople, 88 aegean sea, 16, 151 albania, 134 arjenli, 114 balkan mountains, 150 baltic shores, the, 16 banki, 153 black sea, 16, 150 bourgas, 20, 161 bulair, 136 burgas, 150 chatalja, 114 danube, 39 dardanelles, 145 epirus, 134 ermenikioi, 114 gabrovo, 155 hissar, 153 jambouli, 20 janina, 134 kalofer, 155 karlovo, 155 kasilagatch, 67 kastoria, 67 kirk kilisse, 67, 111 klissoura, 155 koprivchtitza, 155 kotel, 155 kustendji, 16 macedonia, 134, 145 maritza river, 148 marmora, sea of, 19, 145 meritchléri, 153 monastir, 67 mustapha pasha, 67, 108 nisch, 67 nish in servia, near the border of bulgaria, 21 novo-grad, 18 panaguiourichté, 155 philippopolis, 18, 67, 154 pirdop, 155 preslav--now in ruins, 54 rhodope mountains, 59, 150 roumania, 150 roustchouk, 67 salonica, 145 samokov, 155 sandjaks, 67 schumla, 18, 33 scutari, 134 servia, 150 shipka pass, 96 silistra, 150 silivri, 114 sliven, 67, 153, 155 sofia, 22, 67, 77, 153 sopot, 155 stara zagora, 106, 154 stroumitza, 67 struma river, 151 tchorlu, 113 thrace, 88, 134, 145 tikvesch, 67 tirnova, 67, 169 toultcha, 67 trevna, 155 uskub, 67 varna, 16, 67, 150, 161 varshetz, 153 velès, 67 vidin, 67 the end _printed by_ r. & r. clark, limited, _edinburgh_. [illustration: sketch map accompanying "bulgaria." by frank fox. published by a. & c. black ltd., london.] [every attempt has been made to replicate the original as printed. some typographical errors have been corrected; a list follows the text. (note of etext transcriber.)] the walls of constantinople [illustration: frontispiece, constantinople from the sea of marmora] the walls of constantinople by captain b. granville baker [illustration: colophon] london: john milne 1910 preface romance and the history of walled cities are inseparable. who has not felt this to be so at the sight of hoary ruins lichen-clad and ivy-mantled, that proudly rear their battered crests despite the ravages of time and man's destructive instincts. it is within walled cities that the life of civilized man began: the walls guarded him against barbarian foes, behind their shelter he found the security necessary to his cultural development, in their defence he showed his finest qualities. and such a city--and such a history is that of ancient byzantium, the city of constantine, the castle of cæsar. what wonder then that man should endeavour to express by pen and pencil his sense of the greatness and beauty, the romance of a walled city such as constantinople. the more so that a movement is on foot to remove these ancient landmarks of the history of europe and asia. true there are other works on this same subject, works by men deeply learned in the history of this fair city, works that bid fair to outlive the city walls if the fell intent of destroying them is carried into execution, and from these men and their works i derived inspiration and information, and so wish to chronicle my gratitude to them--sir edwin pears and professor van millingen of robert college, constantinople. there are many others too in constantinople to whom my thanks are due--his majesty's vice-consul, my host, his colleagues, now my friends, and many others too numerous to mention. they all have helped me in this work, and i am grateful for the opportunity offered me of here recording my thankfulness for their kind offices. b. granville baker. note.--as i have taken the historical events recorded in this book not in chronological order, but as they occurred to me on a tour round the walls of constantinople, i have appended a brief chronological table, for the guidance of my readers and for the elucidation of this work. contents chap. page i constantinople 13 ii the approach to the city by the bosphorus 28 iii seraglio point 54 iv seraglio point (_continued_) 84 v the walls by the sea of marmora 101 vi the golden gate 124 vii the golden gate (_continued_) 147 viii the walls of theodosius to the gate of st. romanus 172 ix the valley of the lycus 198 x from the gate of edirné to the golden horn 225 envoi 252 appendix 255 list of illustrations constantinople from the sea of marmora _frontispiece_ _facing page_ genoese castle at entrance to bosphorus from the black sea 31 anatoli hissar, or the castle of asia 39 roumeli hissar, or the castle of europe 43 the tower of galata 51 the landward walls of the seraglio 58 the palace of hormisdas, or justinian 101 the sea-wall 117 the marble tower 122 postern with inscriptions of basil ii and constantine ix 124 the golden gate from south-west 126 the approach to the golden gate from north-west 146 yedi koulé kapoussi, or gate of the seven towers 170 part of turkish fortress of yedi koulé 172 theodosian wall and approach to belgrade kapoussi, second military state 183 theodosian wall--a broken tower, outside 188 theodosian wall--a broken tower, inside 190 gate of rhegium, or yedi mevlevi haneh 193 top kapoussi, gate of st. romanus 194 third military gate 196 the valley of the lycus, looking north 199 the valley of the lycus from inside the walls 201 the valley of the lycus, showing where the last emperor fell 224 the palace of the porphyrogenitus from the fosse 226 the palace of the porphyrogenitus from within the walls 228 tower of manuel comnenus 232 gate of the bootmakers, or the crooked gate 241 wall of palæologian repair 244 towers of isaac angelus and anemas 246 old house in the phanar 249 the walls of constantinople chapter i constantinople byzas the seafarer stood in the sacred copse, the copse of fir-trees dedicated to his father poseidon. his soul was filled with awe, for he was listening for an answer to his prayer; he had prayed for help and guidance in his next venture out upon the seas, and had brought rich gifts with him. hush! the faint murmuring of the evening breeze--a sound--a whisper only--it is the voice of the oracle: "build your city opposite the city of the blind, for there you shall prosper." the voice died away in the stillness of evening. gently, with reverence, byzas placed his offerings upon the ground, turned and went his way without looking behind him. before the dawn arose, byzas had joined his comrades. "to sea," he cried, "for the oracle has spoken thus: 'go to the country of the blind--there build you a city opposite their own--you shall prosper.'" silently the stout vessel that carried byzas and his fortunes stood out to sea as the rosy dawn touched the high peaks of the peloponnese and tinted with pale carmine and gold the unruffled water of the ægean. and ever bearing to the north, to that unknown region, with byzas at the helm, the ship held on. they sounded here and there, and asked of those they met, "is this the country of the blind?" their question met with little sympathy; the answers are nowhere recorded. after many vain inquiries the adventurous crew drew out into the sea of marmora. towards evening they sighted land. no doubt byzas was drawn towards the prince's islands 'twixt him and asia as he sailed northward up the quiet inland sea. but sternly he resisted the temptation of these lovely isles, and held on his way. his long craft pulled nearer in towards the narrow mouth, and through the twilight a great city loomed up before him on his right--the city of chalcedon, better known by its modern name of kadekeuy. now in the days of byzas suspicious-looking craft of no ostensible occupation were not encouraged, piracy was too common and, indeed, considered one of the few occupations fit for a gentleman--night was falling; so we imagine byzas putting in to the spit of land that projects boldly into the sea as if to meet the asiatic shore and offer stepping-stones for any migrant titan that might pass that way. rounding the point, he saw before him a broad waterway winding inland till lost to sight behind the tree-clad heights to northward. so byzas steered towards this fairway, holding to the southern bank, and then, some little distance from the point, his comrades lowered the broad sails, dropped anchor and awaited the light of day. only when it dawned were they conscious that they had reached their goal, the country mentioned by the whispering oracle. a fair sight that, by the first rays of the rising sun: the east aglow with many colours, repeated in the waters of the winding bay, henceforth to be known as the golden horn; first touches of pink in the small clouds over the rose-tipped mountain of the east; and, swimming in a silvery haze, the islands they had passed. then the keenest and most fleet-footed of the crew betook themselves ashore. they searched diligently everywhere, and brought back word that all day long never a man had they seen of whom they could inquire, "is this the country of the blind?" so byzas spoke: "this is the country of the blind, for those are blind who could pass by this most favoured spot, and build their city on the other side." so byzas settled here and built a city and prospered--the oracle had spoken truly. all this happened many centuries ago, when the world, at least the western world was young, and rome--imperial rome, the eternal city, was still wrapped in the legendary mysteries of her birth. and so arose constantinople,--a city known by many names, the one familiar to the majority of those of western race is that of the city of constantine, constantinople, familiar but with subconscious charm of strange remoteness: the slavs still talk of tsarigrad, the castle of cæsar; to the turk this is stamboul, a corruption of [greek: eis tên polin]--the phrase they must have so often heard on the lips of the vanquished greeks, but through all ages this is byzantium in romance. the first thing a man does when he comes into any kind of property, is to safeguard it somehow. if this property be land, however acquired, the natural thing is to build a wall around it, and this no doubt byzas did too. but of his walls nothing is left--the city grew and prospered, the oracle said it would, so the matter was in a sense already settled, and new walls were thrown out further until imperial byzantium, like imperial rome, stood on seven hills. behind these walls a busy populace increased the wealth and importance of the place, and others who wanted wealth and importance flocked in here for it. byzant became a thoroughfare to all those of the west who did business with the east, but was chary of being too much of a thoroughfare for those who came from the east. for these latter had the habit of coming in swarms and armed, otherwise empty-handed, but with a sincere wish not to return in that condition. against such as these the walls were built, strong and cunningly planned. and so ancient byzant grew into the mart for those who traded from the west along the coasts of the mediterranean, away through dardanelles and bosphorus to the black sea, to trebizond, where the old greek tongue yet lingers in its purest form, the crimea--even distant persia. so also byzant became the bulwark that met, and broke, successive storm-waves of asiatic attack, until in due season a strong asiatic race forced its way in, and has stayed there, and still holds its hard-won stronghold. it was this position that made constantine, the man of genius, transfer the capital of his empire from rome to byzant, after defeating his rival licinius at chrysopolis (scutari) opposite the mouth of the golden horn, and henceforth to make the city known as his--constantinople, the castle of cæsar. this alone would justify his claim to be called great, and, as dean stanley remarked, of all the events of constantine's life, this choice is the most convincing and enduring proof of his real genius. it is to be doubted whether any city walls have such a stirring history to relate as those of constantinople, except perhaps the walls of rome. of former, older fortifications traces have been found, and they reach back to very ancient history. echoes come to us from those dim ages of history, shadowy forms of warriors, seafarers, priests and sages pass by in pageant, with here and there the bearer of some great name in bolder outline. somebody has said that the east is noteworthy as the grave of monarchs and reputations. of no spot is this truer than it is of stamboul. chroseos, king of persia, emerges from the gloom, and with him hordes of warriors trained to ride, to shoot, to speak the truth. he is seen for a brief space encamped before the walls to bring its citizens to submission: he fades away with his phantom host. then comes one better known, and he stands out in bold relief, the light of history gives him more definite outline,--pausanias. he drove the persians from the city after defeating them in the field. his handiwork, 'tis said, can still be traced in some gigantic blocks that went to fortify yet more the walls that byzas built. he was recalled in disgrace: well for him had he never come. it needed but a little of the splendour and luxury of an oriental court to corrode the old iron of the spartan character. for him the watery soup and black bread of the eurotos valley could never have quite the same flavour afterwards. he left the city a discredited politician of more than doubtful loyalty to the land that reared him and the great confederacy which had set him at its head. then follows an everchanging array of warriors of many nations, many races. seven times did the fierce sons of arabia, fired by their new-found faith, lay siege to old byzantium, and seven times their impetuous valour broke against these walls in vain. albari, bulgarians, sclavi, russians, vainly spent their strength in trying to force an entrance into the castle of the cæsars. great bloodshed or great treachery could alone serve as the key to what latter-day poets call "the gate of happiness." crusaders too, men of the same faith, besieged the city, and after one short period of success, they too vanished, to leave the imperial city standing as before; to leave her, perhaps, a little wickeder, perhaps a little more luxurious, but still as perennial and unchanging as she is to-day. then came another, stronger race out of the east. they laid their plans cunningly and boldly executed them, they hovered for years over the city and around it, and for years their efforts proved abortive, until the time had come when this bulwark of europe, that had for centuries hurled back the waves of warriors that dashed themselves against its ramparts, had fulfilled its mission. vain it was to cry for help to the christ whom they had persistently dishonoured, and to whom their very existence, corrupt and luxurious, was a standing insult. no, they in their turn were compelled to make way for the stern realities and honest animalism over which the crescent cast its protecting shadow. then did the conqueror mohammed enter into possession, he and his people; here they settled after centuries of storm and stress, and here they are still, and they too are prospering--as said the oracle in those dim distant ages before the greek seafarers landed here. meantime, behind those sheltering walls, europe was working out its destiny. the western empire centred in imperial rome succumbed before the on-rush of barbarians from the north, those warriors from primæval forests, blue-eyed and strong, whose very aspect reduced the stout roman legionaries to tears of terror and despair, with fair hair floating in the breeze as their long boats (sea-serpents they called them) bore them from shore to shore, or as astride of their shaggy horses they crossed the frontiers guarded by roman legions, and conquered as they went. then these took root, the langobards in northern italy, goths in the iberian peninsula, saxons and angles in britain, and, by degrees, became conscious of political existence. some vanished before the fury of the arab as did the goths in spain, while others grew and prospered like the franks. races emerged from darkness to add to the confusion of europe's seething mass of humanity. christianity shed its light upon them, and by degrees order appeared, to make way again from time to time to wild disorder. and all the time the walls of constantine's proud city prevented the irruption of any eastern foes whose advent would have made confusion worse confounded. so on the eastern frontier of the eastern empire a wonderful revival of the power of persia was held in check by those who held the fort of constantine, and a vigorous attempt to regain the possessions of hellas-hated xerxes was frustrated. transient states arose and vanished--the republic of rome, the exarchate of ravenna, mythical celtic kingdoms like armorica and cornwall, and the vandal kingdom of africa. thereupon appeared the more lasting dominions of the moors at cordova and granada, and of the normans in france and sicily, and the enduring power of the papal see. slowly, uncertainly, under the shelter of the walls of constantinople, europe drew the first rough outline of her present political aspect, and began to emerge from barbarism. ambitions and strange freaks of fanaticism flared up among young nations and died away. among the former the revival of the roman empire by germanic monarchs lingered longest. conceived by charlemagne with the aid of the roman pontiff and his own paladins, this dream lived on for many centuries, caused endless bloodshed and such cruel deeds as the murder of that hapless conradin, the last of the hohenstauffens, a race of rulers that had given rise to many legends and heroic lays. then the crusaders with all their fruitless sufferings, their lavish shedding of blood and treasure, and the masses of private iniquity which they died trusting to expiate by public sacrifice. and yet constantinople held the eastern foe at bay. the tradition of rome's all-conquering legions lingered yet, and old byzantium boasted of a standing army, highly trained and disciplined through all these centuries--those stormy times for europe, when every man's hand was against his neighbours. then bands of armed men roamed over europe, following this leader or the other, each bent only on his own advancement. little by little degeneration set in within and without the walls of constantinople. one fair province after another was regained by those barbarians from whom they had been conquered, and the mighty eastern empire fell to pieces. the spirit of the people was no longer bent on upholding the traditions of the past, or, mayhap, lived too much in those traditions. so when the nations had begun to settle, the day of constantine's city was over and its task accomplished. the eastern foeman achieved the oft-attempted end, and possessed himself of those ramparts which so long had kept him at bay, and established a new empire in place of the vanished power of roman tradition. there is yet another aspect to the history of constantinople. it was here that its second founder embraced christianity. st. sophia and st. irene still stand as monuments to mark that happening, albeit the crescent, not the cross, now glitters from their pinnacles; although portly, bearded imams now take the place of the long-haired greek priests, and the high altars have been turned awry, so that the faithful may know that their gaze is fixed direct towards mecca. here much of st. chrysostom's life and energy was spent; here, since the schism with the church of rome, has been the seat of the patriarch, head and high priest of the greek church. rulers, dynasties, even governing races have replaced each other, yet here the patriarchate still maintains the dignity of the great church it represents. for the strong man who vanquished this proud city did not seek to turn his new subjects to his faith, but rather gave them full liberty to follow their own. and this has been the policy of his successors; thus it is that a greek patriarch, joachim, third of that name, this day watches over the interests of his flock. adherents to every creed, save that of the armenians, have enjoyed complete religious freedom, and jews who were hounded out of catholic spain took refuge under the chalif of islam. the same policy is continued by those clear-headed men who have but recently revived the empire of the east, and trust in time to give it a government conceived on modern lines. romance! are not the pages of history, even the most recent, made glorious by it? so who will deny the attribute of romance to the story of a walled city? think of the enterprise, the ingenuity, the steadfast endeavour that led to the encircling of ever-increasing areas within the embrace of those stout walls; of the life of the people who pressed onward out of paganism to christianity, from despotism to constitutional government.--romance! in younger days wars were waged because some fair lady had been carried off, some rich jewel stolen, and in order that black insults might be wiped out. we live nowadays beneath a more sombre sky. from isolated incidents our motives have crystallized into definite principles, and it needs the delicate eye of the artist to see any of the old lustre in our honest if humdrum efforts to defend them. constantinople--the name conjures up dreams of eastern colour, eastern sights, and eastern smells: visions of turks in baggy breeches and jaunty fez; visions of bearded elders in flowing robes and turbans, white, green or multi-coloured according to the wearer's calling, descent, or personal taste, for only he who is learned in the koran may wear white. those who claim descent from the prophet bind their fez with green, and divers colours are worn more by ottoman subjects from over the water. then you dream of stalwart sunburnt turkish soldiery whose bearing speaks of koran-bred discipline and stubborn fighting, and a fanaticism which takes the place of imagination. gorgeous cavasses, frock-coated followers of islam with unshaven jowls and green umbrellas, smart bedouins and copper-coloured eunuchs from abyssinia, immaculately-attired dragomans, veiled ladies, more mysterious even than their western sisters--in fact, splendour, squalor, light and life, and all as picturesque and romantic as dreams can be. this is the vision, and the reality to whosoever is fortunate enough to see constantinople is its fulfilment. all but the dragomans, perhaps, for you may pass one by and not know he is that wonderful omniscient being--a dragoman. he will hide his greatness under a straw hat, maybe, he may even affect an air of western hustle. but every other effect makes up for any disappointment one may experience over dragomans. in a golden haze kaleidoscopic changes, every type of face a study, every street corner its own distinctive character, even the spick and span liners that lie along the quays, or have their station in the fairway of the golden horn, seem to adopt a catchet other than their register provides for them. over all, the domes of many mosques with their attendant minarets, from which the call to prayer goes forth, they point the way to the goal of all good moslems, and few there are who allow this world's cares to interfere with their devotions. later in the day these mosques, silhouetted in the gold of a stamboul sunset along with the other tall columns "qui s'accusent" against the sky, go to form, as browning (who had never seen them) suggests, a sort of giant scrip of ornamental turkish handwriting. so, having followed this sketch of constantinople's history from byzas to these days, in which an almost bloodless revolution has been accomplished, let us approach the city, and mark the bulwarks that are left, and hear what those massive towers and battlements have to tell us. chapter ii the approach to the city by the bosphorus author and artist have, for the sake of compactness, been rolled into one. this method leaves to both a free hand and ensures absolute unanimity: their harmonious whole now proposes to the reader a personally conducted tour around the walls of constantinople, within and without, stopping at frequent intervals to allow the artist to ply his pencil while the author holds forth to an eager circle of intelligent listeners. constantinople should not be approached by those who hail from the west with any western hustle--no charging to the agents or the booking-office at the last moment to demand a return ticket by the quickest possible route, to traverse all europe, passing through many strange and interesting countries with the determined tourist's reckless haste, to tumble out on to the platform of the german-looking stamboul railway station, worn out and wretched and wishing to be back at home again. rather should the traveller wean his mind from many western notions. let him disabuse himself of the hackneyed superstition that time is of any moment. in the east it is not. men have all the time there is, and plenty of that. in this respect it corresponds to the biblical description of heaven: "there is no time there." conscious of their easily won eternity, trains, and more particularly boats, make no attempt to start at the hour mentioned in the schedule, aware that by doing so they would only cause inconvenience to the large majority of their passengers. any one who has had official relations with the turk knows that his most frequent exclamation is "yarsah--yarsah" ("slowly--slowly"), but to most foreigners the system is, at first, a little disconcerting. again, the traveller should prepare his mind for what he hopes to see--a walled city,--so should, ere starting, let his mind's eye travel beyond his garden wall, against which perchance he may safely lean as aid to meditation, to what he has heard of walls, walls that were built by many devoted generations and in return protected their descendants from those hungry powers that seek to destroy whatever prospers. and travelling toward his eastern goal the reader passes through many an ancient city whose walls chronicle the history of its inhabitants. he should take his journey easily, should move eastward with no undue haste. let him go down the danube, that mighty river which arises from a small opening in the courtyard of a german castle, flows majestically through the lands of many nations, where before the days of history saga held her sway and gave birth to the nibelungs. in its waters many ruined castles are reflected, amongst others dürnstein, where blondel's voice at length brought hope of deliverance to his imprisoned liege, richard coeur-de-lion. he will pass many fair historic cities, vienna, budapesth, belgrade, the white fortress, and so on through the iron gates, whence the great stream swells with increasing volume through the plains of eastern europe to throw out many arms to the black sea. it is here that author and artist await you; for to worthily approach constantinople you should do so from the north, and by sea. and you are in good company, for by this seaway came the russians in their several attempts on the eastern capital. the turks, too, the present masters of the situation, found this way and followed it to victory. these, too, overcame great difficulties--they sailed in small vessels and were much at the mercy of wind and weather; in fact, the russians found their plans frustrated by the elements. they met with anything but a pleasant reception, whereas the traveller nowadays steams in great comfort in a racy-looking roumanian [illustration: genoese castle at entrance to bosphorus from the black sea. a narrow entrance this--strongly fortified it was too, in olden times, for on that height to the left stands a frowning ruin, a genoese castle.] liner, and is sure of a courteous welcome from his hospitable host, the turk. along the coast of bulgaria--that kingdom of strong men under a strong ruler, whose history, with a long and melancholy hiatus, is taken up again, is in the making, and bids fair to rival that of older nations as a record of devotion and steadfastness of purpose. and so to the mouth of the bosphorus, a narrow entrance through which the strong current of the black sea forces its way to join the warm waters of the mediterranean. the argonauts found their way through here, braved the crash of the symplegades, and sailed out into the unknown in search of the golden apples of the hesperides. let no man say that these were simply oranges, for these a man may cull in many a greek garden to-day. no--it was an ideal they sought, and, like true men, they found and followed it. a narrow entrance this, and strongly held, as it deserves to be if nature be man's handmaid. strongly fortified it was, too, in olden times, for on that height to the left stands a frowning ruin, a genoese castle, commanding the entrance for many miles round the open sea and the rolling, wooded heights of asia inland. intensely interesting are the naval exploits of the city republics of italy during the middle ages. it is not easy to realize the power developed by such towns as pisa, genoa, and venice, and the enormous importance of the part they took in the development of europe. other cities are so much overshadowed by rome, that those who are not historians hear only echoes of their greatness. primarily there seems to be a divergence in the origin of empire between those gained by a northern or southerly race. latin empires grew out of cities--rome and constantinople, and athens with her delian confederacy; the states of pisa which owned large oversea possessions, genoa which to a long strip of coast counted corsica among her spoils, venice which with varying fortunes controlled dalmatia and istria and built the stout fortress of nauplia commanding the gulf of argolis. whereas england, france, germany, in fact those empires founded by the men of a northern race, began, it appears, by the conquest of other people's cities, and, making themselves masters of a number of such towns, started states of their own, drawing liberal and very elastic boundaries round them which they could enlarge when strong enough by the simple expedient of picking a quarrel with their neighbours. these depended for their defence more on those who lived in fortified seclusion on the marches of their domain than on the town-dwellers. the genoese navy, composed of ships fitted out alike for battle as well as for commerce, was free to look further afield as soon as pisa, their whilom ally against the saracens of africa, spain and the mediterranean islands (but a formidable rival at all other times), had been finally crushed at meloria. opportunity soon offered, for trouble arose as usual in the eastern empire. the latin dynasty put into power by the crusaders was sinking lower, and a feeling for the restitution of the greek empire was growing. also, the venetians, new rivals, had assisted the latins, so there was every reason to interfere. the interference proved successful, michael palæologus conceded the suburbs of pera and galata to the genoese. these places were fortified, and served as a base from whence to push genoese enterprise further into the black sea, and in the crimea a factory was established. from time to time the genoese turned against the greeks, no doubt in order that their swords might not rust for want of exercise during the piping times of that peace which in the east was a seldom acquired taste. they stood by the greeks, however, when trouble came from elsewhere, and to the last upheld their high reputation for bravery and devotion. the genoese tower of galata still stands overlooking the golden horn. a yet more notable monument to those gallant seafarers are the so-called "capitulations." the genoese colony was ruled by a magistrate sent from home, and to this day that right is still granted to the powers of europe, and can only be fully appreciated by those familiar with the ordinary standards of eastern justice. on the next height the giant's mountain, also on the left bank, is another monument of yet greater antiquity, though perhaps its historical value is less easily assessed--depending more than ever on personal opinion and a romantic nature completely undisturbed by the galling limitations of probability--the tomb of joshua. its origin is shrouded in mystery, as it well may be considering the countless ages that have passed over it--there are so few records of joshua's travels that no doubt that eminent warrior may have gone on leave to travel for the improvement of his mind like his colleagues of the present day without our hearing anything of his experiences in foreign parts. it is equally possible that he may not have returned from furlough--owing to decease. this is purely speculation--very real, however, is the tomb itself. a long, narrow, walled-in space in connection with a small mosque and under the care of the hodja in charge contains this, his resting-place, enclosed by iron rails and about 24 ft. long by 10. it also serves as fruit garden, or orchard--for several fig-trees grow here, so we see that, unless the legend lies, joshua must have been a tall strapping fellow and the sons of anak can have caused him no real surprise or alarm. the correct thing to do is to walk round the tomb a great many times (there is a fixed number, but it does not matter much), tie a bit of rag to the railing and express a wish, keeping it strictly to yourself. the next best thing to do is to forget the wish, pay two-pence in baksheesh and ride away to get the most of a glorious view. artist and author alike do so. and a pleasant thing it is to ride on into asia minor on an alert, sure-footed arab; he need be sure-footed, for at one time your road leads along the very edge of a steep decline, at another over the bed of what is a rushing torrent in the rainy season. everywhere a changing vista, bold, rolling hills, now covered with short scrub and heather, with black rocks peering through it--now under oak and beech, everywhere the glorious bracing air of the uplands mingled with breezes from the northern sea. here and there you find patches of cultivation, the patient team of oxen drawing the primitive plough, merely an iron-shod staff at an angle to the shaft to which the team is yoked. near by, a village, small wooden houses sheltered by fig-trees, a little shady café where of an evening the men smoke a solemn hubble-bubble and discuss events in the measured sentences of a conversation which begins about nothing in particular and ends in the same district. what changes those fields have known! armies pouring into asia full of enterprise and the lust of conquest, returning to escort a victorious emperor in triumph through the golden gate, or beaten remnants of a host to seek refuge behind the city walls. and a plough of the same construction, drawn by the same faithful servants, stopped its course a while to watch, and then went on its way unchanging. but the fairest road is still that glittering waterway with its ever-increasing number of craft, so we pass on to constantinople. with a fair breeze from the black sea dead astern small sailing vessels hurry on towards their goal--the golden horn. they are high in the bows, higher still in the poop, with an elegant waist but withal a reasonable breadth of beam, brightly painted too, with cunning devices on the prow and sails that glisten white under the ottoman ensign; they carry for a flag a crescent argent in a field gules (the artist insists on heraldic terms, as they are so picturesque). these little ships have been busy collecting many things for the stamboul market along the black sea coast. heavy-laden tramps thump onward to odessa to return with corn or wool. we overhaul a yacht-bowed russian mail-boat and get a shrill whinny of greeting from the stout little passenger steamers, tyne-built, that ply between the many landing-stages along the bosphorus bringing officials, business men and even artists back from the city to those quiet, cosy little bungalows that hide among the trees on either side. white-painted caiques flit across from side to side, one-oared and even two-, some more pretentious ones with more oars still, the boatmen dressed in becoming uniform, veiled ladies in the stern sheets. a hustling steam-pinnace shoots by from one or the other "stationaires," for every larger power keeps one here; and there on the right, that row of gleaming palaces by the waterside is therapia, those palaces the different embassies in their summer quarters. here homesick travellers of many nations may feast their eyes on the war-flag of their country and get up a thrill, if the scenery should have failed to cause one. it certainly is a pleasant sight to see a sturdy british bluejacket again or his smart colleague of the u.s. navy in his jaunty white hat. therapia will tell you that this is the only place to live in during the summer; other places along the road on either hand claim the same advantage, and the claims must be allowed where the choice is so difficult. for there is candilli, and who that has spent some sunny weeks under the trees of that favoured spot, has dived from the garden wall (displacing volumes of water) into the evening phosphorescence of the bosphorus, but wishes to return and to repeat the performance? and arnoutkeni, where, on a hill-top, lives the most hospitable of consuls-general. the silvery way narrows and widens, and winds, though slightly, past ever-increasing signs of human habitation. wooden turkish houses with the jealously latticed windows of the harems dipping their stone foundations in the sea, some with a little scala leading to a stoep, where the veiled ladies of the house may take the air while children play around them. stately palaces walled off towards the land, the sea-front open and mayhap the lordly owner's steam-yacht moored just opposite, barracks and cafés with vine-clad trellis-work, and behind the narrow stone streets and little shops. every now and then a mosque, its dazzling minarets pointing to the sky, and also, too frequently, a very modern residence in the very latest bad taste, which is saying a good deal. to all this a background of trees, the warm depth of pines, the pleasant green of oaks and beeches, the bright shining green of fig-tree, and everywhere larger or smaller groups of slim cypresses, close-serried beneath whose shade rest faithful sons of islam--and [illustration: anatoli hissar, or the castle of asia. within the precincts of this castle, entered by narrow gates, are other small houses, still smaller shops and cafés.] surely none of them might wish for a more lovely and decorous burial-ground than here, looking out upon the narrow strait their fathers won so dearly. there are open spaces too, where groups of people, gay patches of bright colours, disport themselves: a game of football is no unusual sight here. even a factory chimney stands out here and there, not emphatically belching out defiant volumes of black smoke to insist on the power of the _main-d'oeuvre_, but in a gentler manner, as if rather apologizing for this outrage upon nature and trying its best to adapt itself to its surroundings by the kindly aid of quaint-looking craft, blackavised, but free from any suggestion of machine-made regularity; these craft carry the coal necessary to enterprise, just to oblige, they seem to say. the channel widens, then narrows again, and here stand two ancient fortresses, one on either hand. ancient, compared to western notions, though too recent to be mentioned by chroniclers of old byzant, for they are of turkish origin, and date back but a few odd centuries. on the asiatic side stands anatoli hissar, or the castle of asia. wooden houses of all ages cluster about it, the wood of some painted in bright colours, pink or ochre, or others left to be coloured by time and climate, ranging from warm purple greys to the strongest burnt sienna. within the precincts of this castle, entered by narrow gates, are other small houses, still smaller shops and cafés. to southward broad green streams join the bosphorus, the sweet waters of asia, along the banks of which are pleasant open spaces, a mass of colour on friday afternoons; for here the moslem ladies take their leisurely walks abroad on that day, and spend many pleasant hours chatting under the shady trees, though what they find to talk about except their children, allah alone knows. the bridge leading over the northern arm of these waters in an attractive spot: here the artist put up his easel to sketch the continuous stream of passers-by--grave merchants, portly of person on small donkeys, small horses laden with baskets, pedestrians many and of all manner of races, mostly eastern, now and again a squad of cavalry on active little arabs, or a body of infantry with the fine decisive tramp of a conquering race. at the foot of the rather high-arched wooden bridge a number of caiques, white-painted with crimson cushions, their oarsmen dozing in the sun, while heavier boats laden with fruit and vegetables go out to market at stamboul. across the bridge quaint wooden houses with the usual latticed windows, and, connecting them across the narrow street, vine-covered trellis-work beneath the shade of which some business is transacted, buying and selling conducted with all the leisure and decorum of men for whom a year more or less means little. behind and crowning all, the frowning though dismantled fortress. here the artist had an experience that struck him enormously. his morning sketch was of the scene described above, his afternoon work was from inside a boat-builder's yard, looking over the sweet waters to some turkish houses, glorious in colour with quaint wood carving, each with its tiny well-kept garden by the sea. the second day while at work on the morning sketch, the genial boat-builder approached and confided the key of his establishment to the artist, at the same time intimating that the yard would otherwise have been found closed and thus the afternoon's sketch delayed. would this have happened on clyde or tyne? over against anatoli hissar stands roumeli hissar, the castle of europe, a yet more imposing mass of ruins. its plan is said to be the cypher of mohammed. the whole fortress is said to have been built in two months by the forced labour of greeks, to each of whom was delegated a measured area. the towers that command the upper part are of the construction peculiar to the turkish architecture of that period, a tower of smaller dimension superimposed on the lower one is what it looks like, and we shall see it again at yedi koulé. this castle encircling a picturesque village is peculiarly beautiful in the spring, for then the flaming colour of the judas tree, swamping with its vivid tone the delicate pink of almond sprays, lights up the deeper ochres and purples of the surrounding masonry, and makes the dark cypresses that stand all about strike even a yet deeper note than when the glamour of high summer bathes all things in a golden haze and draws light even from these sombre trees. and they are so beautiful, though perhaps a bit wistful also--their slender shape, the warm grey and purple of their stems and branches and the cool depth of their foliage. close by this castle stands robert college. further south, obliquely opposite is candilli, a place where it is good to be. at first glance, but for its prominent situation, it may appear to be much like other places along the banks of the bosphorus. a short bit of narrow street, stone-paved and very bad to walk on, leads to a cross-road, the cord that connects all these little villages. it is equally badly paved, but as many of the blocks of stone that once served as pavement have vanished, there are quite a number of softer spots wherein a man may set his feet when walking. there is a café by the waterside, where turks, armenians, greeks and others take their [illustration: roumeli hissar, or the castle of europe. over against anatoli hissar stands roumeli hissar, the castle of europe. its plan is said to be the cypher of mohammed.] leisure, drink endless cups of coffee and gaze into the water. the gentleman who sells tickets to those who leave by boat, and collects them from those who land here, may generally be seen fishing from the landing-stage. he is a philosopher; it is but little that he wants, and he takes a long time getting it. there is a mosque close by whose hodja is counted among the artist's personal friends. he is a busy man, as turks go: he sweeps out his mosque, trims and lights the candles that adorn it by night, and fulfils all the koran's requirements in daily prayer, encouraging others in the same commendable practice. he also possesses a magnificent tenor voice which is heard to best advantage rising up from his minaret to the hill overlooking candilli, when exactly one hour and a half after sunset he announces to the world that "allah is great. there is no god but allah, and mohammed is his prophet." he has a son who is learning to chant the same refrain and to quote the koran. like most of the early apostles, he is a fisherman. all around by the seaport, on the hillside, in garden and under trees, stand the houses of those who live in candilli, either permanently or as summer tenants only. should the reader ever visit here, let him turn sharp to his right and keep along the sea-front, a stone-paved terrace about 8 feet broad occasionally broken to admit boats into the boathouses, caverns in the stone foundations of the houses that stand here. these breaks are planked over for the convenience of foot-passengers; and so we keep on till a sharp turn to the left takes us to a flight of steep steps. we ascend and join the high-road, the cord referred to above. you are welcomed there by a sportive litter of pariah pups who have an _al fresco_ lodging here on a luxurious bed of melon-skins, which provide food and bedding at the same time, and quite a plentiful supply of each during the season. the neighbourhood for miles round, city and suburbs, is full of little corners convenient for receiving things that you no longer want. a few hundred yards along the high-road another sharp turn to the left, another litter of pariah pups and their white mother, generally called the "old lady," all most pleased to see you; another ascent, short but sharp with holes torn out of the pavement as if the shell of a cow-gun had struck it, and you arrive at a doorway in the wall. it is quite unpretentious, in fact its modesty is carried so far that a piece of string that dangles out of a hole will, when you pull it, lift the latch and so give you admittance. you enter an unpaved yard, in fact after a few days' rain you may call it a garden, for grass grows up without any other encouragement, just as it does in all eastern gardens. before you stands a wooden house, shrouded with vine and overshadowed by a fig-tree; there is yet another fig-tree in the garden, and a walnut-tree and another sitting-out-under tree, which finds that sufficient avocation, and therefore yields no fruit of any kind. entering the house, the first thing that meets your eye and holds it is a row of boots on the left-hand side of a stone-flagged apartment called the hall. your eyes rest on the boots, for you know at a glance that they are british made--they are, for englishmen live here. a doorway opposite the entrance leads to the kitchen; here the greek cook, aleko, reigns supreme, and with him the butler, kotcho, which being interpreted means alexander and constantine. a wooden staircase leads to upper regions, to a spacious sitting-room, where no one ever sits save in wet weather. but why this lengthy description of an ordinary english bachelor abode? the reader asks of the author. he gets behind his collaborator--the artist lived here, and thus history is made. the artist lived here as the guest of those whose work lies in constantinople. there were several, their numbers had frequent additions towards the weekend, and the assembly went by different names, the most common being the "y.m.c.a.," because one of the number nearly lunched in the company of a bishop one day, and a bishop in the levant is rare enough for comment. they lived in great contentment, did these britons abroad; at work during the day, they foregathered at dinner in the variegated garb that betokens ease and talked of many things between the peals of the pianola wafted from a villa higher up on the hillside. they listened to the eastern sounds that came to them from afar, to the warning hum of the mosquito, the distant barking of a dog, the tapping of the watchman's iron-shod staff on the pavement outside. one night they heard his cry of "yungdin var" ("there is a fire"), as in accordance with time-honoured custom he proclaimed some distant conflagration, while his colleagues all along the coast on either side gave the same warning. this call sounded in the lane below the bungalow, and was vigorously repeated from within. the watchman answered, "pecci, pecci, effendi" ("all very fine, gentle sirs"--or words to that effect), but tell me where it is? and then himself announced the place and went on his way rejoicing in a "score." now and then these men would sally forth of an evening to one or the other hospitable house, to dance or dine, a solid phalanx of dazzling shirt-fronts. the nights on the shores of the bosphorus are very fair. quite still, the lights of stamboul and pera gleaming in the distance, the swish of passing steamers whose searchlights flash unbidden through your windows, and the moonlight reflected in their wash in myriads of sparkling facets. and then the rosy dawn dispelling the faint haze upon the waters, when the tall trees that are silhouetted black against the clear nocturnal sky, lose their sharply-defined shape as they resume their colours and merge with the glorious scheme of awakening chiaroscuro. and for many ages night on the bosphorus has enjoyed this deep repose, making an occasional disturbance such as happens where men inhabit seem incongruous. imagine the deep stillness when byzas first settled in his city, set out in early morning to search out the land on his own side of this broad waterway, that led to lands remotely known to him through legend only. his constant pleased surprise at finding more and more treasure beautiful and material in the wooded bays where safe anchorage offered. and his return at nightfall in the stillness till he saw the ramparts of his city purple against the evening sky, faint lights twinkling and fainter sounds reaching him across the water betokening the activity of his settlers. these peaceful waters have known much strife and turmoil, the valleys on either hand, the hills of europe and asia have echoed back the sounds of battle. fast sailing ships brought swarms of adventurers down time after time to try their fortunes before the walls of cæsar's castle. from roumeli hissar, the fortress built by mahomed the conqueror, right down beyond seraglio point and into the sea of marmora stretched that monarch's fleet. but it was of no avail against the seaward walls. entrance to the harbour was impossible, as a chain had been stretched across the mouth of the golden horn, and behind it the larger vessels of the genoese and venetians rode at anchor. so mahomed conceived a plan bold and in keeping with his character and ability. he decided to convey a portion of his fleet across country to the upper reaches of the golden horn and to attack the walls that guarded the upper harbour. there appears to be some doubt still as to the exact spot where these galleys were beached and as to the route they took. galata, the genoese fortress, must be avoided, and at the same time the shortest route must be taken. galata stands in a position somewhat similar to constantinople, on a promontory formed by the hellespont on one side and on the other by the golden horn, which bends slightly to the north after passing west of where the land-wall of theodosius joined the sea-wall of the bosphorus, towards the sweet waters of europe. at any rate we pass the place where this great feat was accomplished, and this is how it was done. mahomed made a road of smooth planks covered with grease, and along this road a host of men pulled eighty galleys in the night. the next morning these ships were riding at anchor in the upper, shallower part of the harbour beyond reach of the larger vessels of the genoese and venetians. according to the byzantine chronicler ducas, every galley had a pilot at her prow and another at her poop, with the rudder in his hand, one moved the sails while a fourth beat the drum and sang a sailor's song. and thus the whole fleet passed along as though it had been carried by a stream of water, sailing, as it were, over the land. certainly a most remarkable feat carried out to the sound of the drum. the drum an instrument, some say of torture during the month of ramazan, for it serves to arouse the faithful moslem an hour before sunrise that he may eat--for he may touch neither meat nor drink between sunrise and sunset during this fast, and it cannot fail to wake others in the neighbourhood. entirely oriental in its origin--no doubt an ancient, its enthusiasts think venerable means of producing sound--its appearance in europe is of comparatively recent date; in fact, not till after west and east met in the crusades did the drum become part of a european army's outfit, and to this we may directly trace the creation of military bands, for where would any band, save a german one performing in england, be without a drum? we may conclude that in all probability it served a double purpose, the uncanny noise both struck terror into the heart of the enemy and cheered on "the faithful" to battle. the roman armies sounded the tuba, frank or teuton put his soul into a bullock's horn, which a later period imitated in brass, and that so successfully that not even the best of modern composers can altogether do without it. the crusaders rallied their bands by means of horns, each in a different key, no doubt; the saracens beat drums to draw their followers to the crescent standard, and a happy blending of these two, with the addition of some attempts at harmony, now brighten the soldier's life when marching to church in sections, or returning heavy footed from a field day. the traveller is at liberty to choose any spot he likes, given that it be on our right, to settle where mahomed's galleys left the waters; that safely accomplished, he should look before him. we have passed many charming little villages quaintly named--beylerbey, [illustration: the tower of galata. galata's proud tower comes into view, and right at its feet the golden horn, all life and bustle and glittering harmonies of colour.] the bay of the beys; tshengelkeui; beshiktache; kabatache. on the heights above palaces, palaces on the sea-front, as we sail on towards constantinople, and there it is before us. we see seraglio point, and then the view increases, showing a glorious vista of mosques, gleaming domes and tapering minarets. we pass on our right a couple of steam-yachts, bright and trim, moored opposite a splendid palace. h.m. the sultan's yachts lie here, and his residence is the palace of dolma bagche. on the heights above pera, the city of italian origin, now inhabited by those western by birth or inclination, and standing some distance away from it, is yildiz kiosk, the deserted haunt of baleful associations. galata's proud tower comes into view, and right at its feet the golden horn, all life and bustle and glittering harmonies of colour. the very smoke rising from the tall funnels of tramps and ocean liners catches the light, reflects it, and add another beauty to the aspect. over our port bow we look down the smooth, shining expanse of the sea of marmora, in which the prince's islands seem to float as in a sunny haze. these have their history, and sad it is for the greater part, and reference will be made to that later, when the artist has finished talking about the scenery, and has returned to his legitimate occupation. behind these islands are faintly seen the mountains of the asiatic mainland, then the coast draws in towards the golden horn, and here are modar and kadikeui, villages so called, though perhaps more truly suburbs, wherein you may find many hospitable houses. one of them gave shelter to a turkish gentleman, a high-placed personage whom an angry soldiery were in search of during the last counter-revolution, the last dying effort of reaction. and here below modar lie many yachts, for it is a fair sea for yachting is the sea of marmora, and the coast and the islands offer ever-varying change of scene. then close to kadikeui and north of it is haidar pasha, with its blot upon the landscape, the terminus of the bagdad railway, an edifice german in construction and of consummate ugliness. close under this eyesore is a peaceful spot where many tombstones and a monument bear record of the deeds of the english soldiers, victims of the crimean war. a peaceful spot, and oh! so beautiful. above it stands a large yellow building many storied, with a background of tall cypresses in thousands that shade the turkish cemeteries, where many lie who fought side by side with britons and our gallant friends the french against their old northern enemy, russia. this building may fall to ruin and perish, the dead that lie about here and their deeds may be forgotten by all but the straight-stemmed cypress-trees, but the memory that lives about this place will never die, for it tells the glorious story of a noble woman's work--this building was florence nightingale's hospital. and near here another work by women is in progress, work devoted to rising generations at the american girls' college. the traveller may cast a glance backward to the way he came and see a small tower standing in the sea--this is a trim-looking tower and shows a light o' nights--this is called the tower of leander. but no more looking back. we have arrived opposite seraglio point, and our goal is before us; for here is the starting-point of the strange and glorious history of the city of constantine, here the foundations of the city of byzas were laid--here is constantinople. chapter iii seraglio point persons of importance like our travellers land at seraglio point instead of travelling round to the bridge of galata. byzas did so, we have it in black and white a few pages back, so it must be true. we can without much fear of contradiction suppose that constantine the great landed here also, though perhaps he went to one of the harbours on the sea of marmora. indeed, he is more likely to have done so, for the current runs pretty strongly and the sea is more than a little choppy at this point. byzas had no harbour to turn into except the golden horn, and he must have been too eager to land and survey his new property to have followed that waterway any considerable distance. just a little west of the point is perhaps the best place to land, somewhere near the turkish custom house. it is, of course, very interesting to land at the bridge of galata, passing through crowded shipping on the way up the golden horn. on one hand, to the south, one sees the irregular mass of buildings, mosques, and public offices which go to form stamboul. you may descry that vast square of solid ugliness owned by the international creditors of the ottoman empire and known as the public debt. close by you catch sight of the head-quarters of government--the sublime porte. drowsy fox-hunting squires, to whom their wives read the paper of an evening, must often have started at the reiteration of this familiar phrase, and wondered to what year the marvellous eastern vintage belonged. opposite the business quarter of galata, crowned by its tower. the life, the colour ever changing, on the highway across the golden horn is extraordinarily fascinating. sons of every race and nation upon earth are freely mingled here. the western official or the business man, whose garb is allowed to betray no ease or originality, here brave the fierce suns of summer clad in the drab discomfort of business attire, with the perote or native of pera and levantines of european origin who have imbibed some longing for oriental display without the requisite taste. western ladies unveiled, eastern ladies veiled, the latter in many cases beautifully shod and gloved. also the artist raves about a little hand he has seen ungloved, such a dainty, beautiful hand, and according to his own estimate he is an expert in such matters. then there are turks, western turks, whose costume is also western, the fez and seldom-shaven cheeks being the only things in which they differ from others, for many are fair and most are fine, handsome men with every sign of the self-control good breeding gives. hamals, the porters, push their way with backs bent double and their packs joined upon the leather rests provided for that purpose. great men in carriages drawn by dashing, spirited arab steeds roll by you, a servant in gorgeous livery beside the driver on the box. asiatics of all kinds and colours, fantastically yet harmoniously clad, move past with silent, unhurried footsteps. and then a batch of soldiers, fine, upstanding fellows in business-like khaki, march past on their way to embark for the yemen, the sierra leone of the turkish empire, for which men even volunteer nowadays, since the bad old order changed. but we have landed our travellers on the northern extremity of the promontory on which stands constantine's ancient city. this part serves as a public promenade, and here people take the air, admire the glorious view, and generally behave like people do everywhere else, when they find time for a leisurely stroll, the only difference being that here men find time for one more often. the point is open to the sea, for there is no further occasion for the walls and towers that encircled this the starting-point of byzantine history. here was the first settlement of byzas that grew into an acropolis, walled, and strongly held, the heart of a growing empire. so we go inland, crossing by a bridge the railway that discreetly hides its unloveliness in a cutting before running into a terminus that might have been picked up from one of the hanseatic towns and planted here by some malignant fairy. the road leads upwards to the seraglio buildings, and here is much of interest. there is the museum containing many treasures, among them two of wondrous beauty--two sarcophagi, one of which claims to have held the remains of alexander the great, the other is presumed to be the last resting-place of one of alexander's higher officers, and is known as "les pleureuses," from the beautifully-sculptured female figures in mourning garb that adorn it. within these precincts is the school of art, where much good, earnest work is being done under the guidance of humdi bey, to whose efforts the recovery of the sarcophagi and other monuments is due as the result of excavations in asia minor. a broad road leads us with park-like plantations on either hand up from the sea towards the seraglio buildings. these buildings stand on a height, the first of the seven hills that form the immovable foundations of the city. the seraglio no longer serves its original purpose, the imperial museums and school of art have taken up a considerable portion of them, and others find accommodation for troops. here you may see the stalwart anatolian peasant being made into a soldier after the german pattern, and a very good pattern too. bugle-calls, reminiscent of those heard in germany, tells the turkish soldier the time for all the many duties he should attend to. sergeants in manner emphatic and teutonesque impart the mysteries of that solemn, high-stepping march which takes the place of route marching in an army that has to train its men to reach perfection in two years' time. slim-waisted subalterns, whose moustaches follow imperial precept, superintend these operations, and an anxious company commander may be seen in conference with his colour-sergeant. it would sound invidious, it would savour of interference, to wonder which is the better use for the seraglio buildings, that of the present or the past. the artist doth profess loudly on this point, that no building can serve a higher purpose than that of housing in comfort those who are taken from their homes to learn how to defend the honour of their [illustration: the landward walls of the seraglio. romance and mystery cling to the place and live in the name seraglio. it is jealously walled in, the wall being of turkish construction and comparatively recent, and to it may be seen clinging quaint wooden houses.] country, and that again the honour and glory of a community is well served by making ample provisions for the encouragement of art. both author and artist wish these seraglio buildings a glorious future in their present warlike and peaceful missions. but romance and mystery cling to the place and live in the name seraglio. it is jealously walled in, the wall being of turkish construction and comparatively recent, and to it may be seen clinging quaint wooden houses. no doubt byzas dwelt somewhere about here, though the exact spot is possibly beyond the ken of the keenest archæologist. remains of solid masonry, huge blocks of stone, have been discovered near the seraglio kitchens, of which a fine view is offered from the railway, peeps of the massive, high-standing building through the ranks of its solemn escort of cypress-trees. when byzantium became the city of constantine it was found necessary to extend the enceinte of the older fortifications, as the number of inhabitants had grown prodigiously, and this first rampart was of greater extent than the present seraglio walls. the many improvements made by constantine, the palace he built unto himself, the forum and hippodrome he laid out, and the churches he erected, are nearly all within the immediate neighbourhood of the seraglio, if not inside its precincts. so here again was the centre of the civic and religious life of the city, rising rapidly to the zenith of its power, and here it has remained until most recent times. there were walls and towers round the point to guard the city both against her enemies and the violence of the elements, and, sooth to say, it was the latter caused more damage than the former. these had need to be constantly repaired. of the very earliest walls no trace remains, yet they too had their page in history. not far from where our distinguished travellers landed, just round the eastern point and looking east, is top kapoussi, which means cannon-gate, for here stood a gate dedicated to st. barbara, who is the patron saint of gunners. but a more likely reason for the turks to retain the memory of the original name is that close by stood a magazine or military arsenal when they conquered the city, and may have stood for years after. it seems that there was a yet older gate at this spot, a gate through which the spartan admiral anaxibius entered the acropolis when he escaped from the city by boat along the golden horn, what time xenophon and his truculent greeks were in possession. after constantine had led his people, or at least those under his immediate influence, into the fold of the christian community, many churches sprang up about this northern extremity of the promontory. (there are, no doubt, those who will differ from the author on the subject of constantine's conversion, who may say that his people led constantine to adopt christianity, and that reasons of policy rather than the conviction born of a sudden inspiration guided him, but the artist will on no account allow such a prosaic version.) five churches stood about here, one dedicated to st. barbara, as we have seen, another to st. demetrius, a third to st. saviour, yet another to st. lazarus, and a fifth one built to st. george on the highest ground available just there, according to custom, for in former times all churches dedicated to the warrior's patron saint were built on higher ground, as if to give the saint an opportunity of keeping a good look-out from his sanctuary. this church gave to the sea of marmora its mediæval name of braz st. george. there were evidently other buildings in connection with st. george's church, a monastic institution most probably, for here under the name of joasaph the emperor john cantacuzene dwelt in seclusion after his abdication until he withdrew altogether from among his former subjects to a monastery on mount athos. another great feature of this neighbourhood was its holy well, which may be springing still, though for this the author cannot vouch, as he has not seen it. the church of st. saviour guarded this holy spring--its water had healing qualities, and pilgrimages were made to it on the festival of the transfiguration. the life of the capital of an empire stirred the precinct of what is now the seraglio enclosure and the vicinity outside it for close on twenty centuries. we have seen the city rise under the fostering care of byzas its founder, and followed those dim paths of remotest history when the world was young, though no doubt the sad young cynics of the period thought it as old and foredone as they do to-day. then came the glorious epoch of constantine and his successors--glorious indeed in the new light of christianity, but in that name much evil was done, and by it murder and violence and civil war were held to be excused. but through it all the city, this seat of empire, exhibited a most astounding elasticity and power of recovery. true the palace of cæsar built by constantine was not within the precincts enclosed by the seraglio walls of to-day, but the brain of the empire held its sway hard by here, and its tumultuous heart beat everywhere among the ruins and decay that now mark the site of palaces. constantine in his glory and genius passes, and others follow him in an unbroken sequence, some good, many bad, all human, and thus surrounded by the romance that envelops those that played their part in history and did their share in making it. a noble sequence taking them all in all from constantine, who reigned from 306 to 337, then his successors down to the last emperor, another constantine of the house of palæologus, twelfth of the name who fell before his city walls to be succeeded by a conqueror of the house of ottoman, the house that has filled the throne of the eastern empire until to-day. if we take but a few of this unbroken line of sovereigns, more than one hundred altogether, such names stand out in the world's history as valens, whose aqueduct still stands as a monument to perpetuate his name. then theodosius ii, whose master mind gave to the city its furthest limit in those proud walls that have encircled it since the beginning of his reign, and still stand as testimony to the genius of man. justinian the great, too, first of that name of whom we must say more when we come to the ruins of the lordly palace he inhabited. leo v the armenian who entered the city as a poor groom, they say, but served his imperial master, michael i the drunkard, so well that he then ascended his throne and restored the expelled government of the empire. and there are many others of whom mention will be made elsewhere in connection with fortifications and palaces that were erected far beyond the first narrow limits of the city that byzas had founded and the great constantine made his own. about this neighbourhood centred the life of the city; there was a broad esplanade near where the church of st. lazarus stood, down by the sea of marmora, its site probably not far from the foot of the seraglio kitchens. this esplanade was called the atrium of justinian the great, for it was his creation. and a fair place it was, all built of white marble. here the good citizens might walk and breathe the soft air, looking out towards the prince's islands and the coast of asia, across the sea of marmora, reflecting in its translucent depths the glorious colours of an eastern sunset. and here they walked and talked, and no doubt discussed all subjects upon earth, religion, politics, those chief incentives to resultless argument, and the news, with all its variations, which were nothing uncommon even in the days before a daily paper first appeared. how portly burghers must have smiled with satisfaction at the sight of bellying sails that drove their galleys back from the shores of many countries to the great market. or a racing craft under full sail with all its rows of glittering oars rising and dipping in strict accord would round the point into the golden horn, leaving the gazers in the atrium the prey to many conjectures, until a gentle sound coming from the north, round by the senate, growing to a roar conveyed the news of some great victory. perhaps an anxious heart of mother, wife or sister would beat against the coping of the atrium, as tearful eyes followed the swift sails of departing war fleets that pressed onward into the morning. and the sun would rise to arouse the golden glories of the city, and yet leave that heart unlightened. here, too, good folk would meet to discuss the pomp and splendour of the escort that had brought the emperor's bride-elect to the sea-gate of eugenius down by the golden horn. how cæsar there had met her with great pomp and ceremony, and had himself invested her with the insignia of her exalted rank. the talk would then go on to the high doings at the palace, and all those good things that had been brought together from every quarter of the earth for the delectation of the wedding guests. when lowering clouds obscured the brightness of the sun of cæsar what whisperings, what anxious glances out to sea! yes, and perhaps what black looks when an alliance was proposed, and indeed consummated, between a princess of their royal house and the polygamist ruler of their enemies the turks, amurath i. what troublous times and discontents when every messenger brought news of fresh disaster, of yet another portion of the empire torn from its enfeebled grasp. what grumbling at the supineness of the christian world that looked on with apathy when it could find the time to spare from its own internal quarrels, while the most eastern bulwark of the faith was being hard pressed by those who carried islam with fire and sword wherever they went. and then a ray of hope when as a last resource john vi palæologus betook himself to rome to implore the pope to exert his influence on behalf of his expiring fortunes, and to stir up another crusade among the nations of the west. though at the same time the emperor sent one of his sons to serve in the turkish army and learn those secrets of success which that host alone seemed to know. intrigue flourished at constantinople more perhaps than anywhere, unless it be in rome, and we well imagine how rumours of such matters filtered down among the populace, giving rise to conjecture and wild, inaccurate statements, the food that intrigue fattens on, rumour also of private feuds and family dissensions not only among nobles and leaders of the state, but among its lowliest citizens. so when john palæologus betrayed his weakness and the weakness of his empire, many among those who walked the atrium of an evening might search their minds for some one who could save them from the threatening devastation, and would gladly turn to any who promised to strengthen the shaky edifice and re-establish that sense of security without which all private enterprise was crippled. for here, as in the time before saxon england fell to the duke of normandy, the conqueror's influence permeated, and attachments were formed between the highest of both nations. so andronicus, another son of john palæologus, entered into friendship with saoudji, one of the sons of amurath. saoudji was jealous of the favour shown to bajazet, his brother, and resented the latter's popularity--well deserved too, for he was valiant and successful in the field, and through the rapidity and vigour of his charges acquired the epithet of yilderim, or lightning. so while amurath was away in asia, saoudji and andronicus, with the assistance of a band of greek nobles and retainers, organized a combined revolt against the byzantine and turkish governments. amurath got tidings of this, and forthwith recrossed the hellespont. suspecting palæologus of complicity, amurath compelled him to join in his proceedings to quell the revolt. the rebel forces were encamped near the town of apicidion, and amurath marched against them. unattended and under cover of night he rode to the entrenchments of their camp and called aloud to the turkish insurgents, commanding them to return to their allegiance, promising a general amnesty. all these on hearing the familiar voice deserted their new leader and their byzantine allies, and rejoined the forces of amurath. saoudji and andronicus with his greek followers were speedily taken. saoudji was brought before his father, who commanded first that his eyes should be put out as unworthy to look his last upon the day, and then that he should be slain. the greek insurgents were tied together and flung two or three at a time into the maritza, while amurath sat by until the last was drowned. the fathers of some of the rebels were ordered to slay their children before him; those who refused were themselves destroyed. amurath ended by sending andronicus in fetters to his father, commanding him to deal with him even as he had dealt with his own. and after all the suppliant emperor's journey to rome failed to arouse the western nations to undertake a new crusade. all that was achieved was a confederacy to resist the future progress of the ottoman power, and if possible to dispossess it of its european territories. the sclavonic nations, at the confines of whose territories the turks had arrived, joined together at the instigation of servia. servians, then the best troops and the most formidable the turks had met in europe, bosnians, albanians and bulgarians, and with them magyars and men from wallachia took the field. though at times successful, the alliance failed eventually in its purpose, and not until most recent times have those nations emerged from turkish suzerainty to national independence. the battle of kossova broke the power of the sclavonic race in the balkans and led to their disappearance from the arena of the polity of nations for many centuries. a fierce fight it was that raged all day with varying fortunes and glorious display of chivalry and knightly daring, where bajazet the lightning struck swift and sure, though a christian noble ended the conqueror's career when the fortunes of the day had just turned in his favour. it happened thus, one milosh kabilovitch galloped forth as if a deserter from the servian ranks and sought the royal presence of amurath. he alleged important intelligence concerning the plans of the allies. kneeling before amurath, he suddenly leapt up and by one stroke buried his dagger in the monarch's heart. by a miraculous exercise of strength he beat off all the attendants who surrounded him again and again, but finally fell under the sabres of the janissaries just as he had reached the spot where he had left his horse. amurath survived but to the close of the battle. his last act was to order the death of the captured lazarus, king of servia, who had commanded the centre of the christian force, and who, standing in chains, regaled the dying eyes of his conqueror. news of this momentous happening reached constantinople, and we can guess that the faces of those who frequented the atrium grew gloomier. was there no one who could help? the horns of the crescent were closing in on the city of constantine, the empire was shorn of most of its former glory and its vast possessions. little but the city and its immediate surroundings were left unsubdued, all escape from the conquering turk seemed hopeless. and then what were their prospects? to be conquered, and by such ruthless hands! the death of saoudji may have been reckoned an act of justice, but rumours came to them, and proved true, of other deeds more cruel, of how bajazet ascended the throne, like richmond on bosworth field, of how his brother yakoub, who had fought valiantly in the battle of kossova, and had contributed largely to its success, was summoned to the regal tent and there saw his father's body, the first intimation of his death. how then and there in the presence of that body bajazet had immediately ordered his sorrowing brother to be strangled. this act was done, says seaddedin, the turkish historian, in conformity with the precept of the koran, "disturbance is worse than murder." surely a gloomy outlook for the watchers on the wall. but how awful would be the fate of their city which had so long resisted the sacred scimitar of ottoman! what mercy could they expect? help there was none, and bajazet was making preparations to submit constantinople to yet another siege. but he was diverted by hostilities on his western frontier, and hope revived again in the hearts of those that looked over the city walls across the sea of marmora. for the christian natives of the west had at last begun to realize the danger threatening them from the east. they were moved not by the recommendation of a heretic greek emperor, but urged by the supplications of the king of hungary, a spiritual vassal of the roman see. pope boniface ix proclaimed a crusade against the turks, and promised plenary indulgence to those who should engage in an expedition for the defence of hungary, and the neighbouring catholic states. there were fewer sinners in need of indulgence in those days than there are now; but the population of europe was proportionately smaller. yet many rallied to the banners of philip of artois; comte d'eu, constable of france; vienne, admiral; and bourcicault, marshal of france. the count of hohenzollern, grand prince of the teutonic order, led a force of germans; the knights of st. john of jerusalem, led by their grand master naillac, joined the force of some 120,000 allies, all, as froissart says, "of tried courage and enterprise." their aim was to break the power of bajazet in hungary, and when this was done to advance on constantinople, cross the hellespont, enter syria, gain the holy land, and deliver jerusalem with its holy sepulchre from the hands of infidels. how anxiously those citizens of constantinople must have longed for news of the enterprise, how hope revived as the fall of widdin, orsova, and raco were reported. what a heavy time of waiting it must have been while the christian host lay before nicopolis. still hope held on, for bajazet was in asia, and was never expected back. but suddenly he appeared within six leagues of the crusaders' camp. the news was brought in by foragers, and the impetuous french knights, sitting at their evening meal, at once buckled on their arms, and demanded to be led against the foes. against the advice of sigismund of hungary the french charged impetuously. they charged and broke the ranks of the akindgi, the advanced guard of the janissaries and of the heavy regular cavalry, and pressed on till they encountered the main body of the turks under the command of the sultan himself. meanwhile the disordered ranks of the akindgi and janissaries left behind, reformed and attacked the french in their rear. all gallantry was unavailing--they were almost all killed or taken. the german knights fell around their sacred banners. the day was lost; of the ten thousand prisoners taken, nearly all were massacred on the following day by bajazet, who sat out from dawn till evening watching, according to the custom of his race, the gratifying spectacle of slaughter. this dashed the hopes of the greek christians, and they began to prepare for the last hours of their imperial city. but bajazet was called away to his eastern asiatic frontier, where the mongols were making fierce inroads on his territory, under their famous leader tamerlane. a respite was thus granted while thus occupied, for the army of bajazet was annihilated at angora, and he himself was slain. no doubt the news of bajazet's defeat and death was welcome to those who took their walks on the atrium, no doubt many a good bargain was concluded then and there in a friendly way, when the news from asia promised better security, and at least a postponement of the eastern terror. and indeed the ottoman power was prostrate for awhile after the battle of angora, and to make matters worse the sons of bajazet quarrelled about the succession. in the chaos that ensued even the greek empire profited directly, for several portions of lost property were recovered, and no doubt hopes ran high that a turning-point in its fortunes had arrived, that the dark clouds of eastern predominance so long threatening were to be finally dispelled, and that the sun of rome would shine again over byzantium. but the old terror revived again, though not perhaps to the same extent. certainly, ere long the turks were knocking at the city gates again. this time under musa, a son of bajazet, who on being released from captivity in tamerlane's tents, joined in the fray of brothers, and laid siege to constantinople, because the emperor supported the claims of the eldest brother solyman, who had taken unto himself the sultanate of his father's european possession, but had been overcome and slain by mahomed the younger son. manuel ii palæologus, greek emperor, besought the protection of mahomed, and for a time a turkish army actually garrisoned the castle of cæsar. but mahomed had to take his troops back to asia. there he overcame and slew his brother musa, and then, all rival claimants having been removed, became sultan of his father's dominions. but a few years longer was the respite granted to the failing power of byzantium. john vii palæologus retained some semblance of imperial dignity; but under his successor, a bearer of constantine's illustrious name, the death-knell sounded alike to the house of palæologus and to the roman empire of the east. the curtain rang down on what may be called the second act of the drama of byzantium--the reign of the christian emperors. the curtain rose again on a scene strewn with ruins of imperial splendour, on heaps of slain, the victims of the conqueror's lust of blood, and the succession of emperors in the imperial city of the east was restored by one of the greatest and perhaps the most cruel of the able sons of othman. mahomed ii the conqueror broke the proud record of those stout walls of constantinople, and made the place his own. the ancient capital of the ottomans, broussa, and the more recent one, adrianople, receded into the background; the former to become a relic of satisfied ambitions, treated with the respect usually meted out to a stepping-stone, the latter a mere base for frontier defence. mahomed transformed all the life of his nation, and centred it in the city of constantine, choosing that part of it where byzas first landed, the point of the promontory. for here he separated a space of eight furlongs from the point to the triangle and built his seraglio. and here the history of constantinople continued its course with just that break of a few days when ownership was forcibly transferred. nor did the religious life of the city suffer any lengthy interruption. true, the monasteries disappeared, the cross fell from the christian churches, the crescent added minarets, and due ceremony made them into mosques. but who can say that the religious life had ceased with the alteration in creed and dogma. and the turks with some exceptions, usually political, have always respected the faith of others. it must have been one of the most marvellous and astounding scenes ever witnessed by mortal eyes that took place not long after the city fell, and long before the sights and signs of the desolation there wrought had been removed. the greek remnant had gathered together and returned in crowds as soon as they had sufficiently been assured of their lives, their liberties, and the free exercise of their religion. to solemnize this fast the sultan held an investiture on old byzantium lines, with all the pomp and traditional splendour of the ceremony, an investiture of the patriarch of greek orthodoxy. with his own hand the conqueror delivered into the hands of gennodius the crosier or pastoral staff, the symbol of his ecclesiastical office. his holiness was then conducted to the gate of the seraglio, presented with a horse richly caparisoned, and led by viziers and pashas to the palace allotted for his residence. and this happened within the seraglio walls! surely an astounding event. the successor to the throne and empire of the cæsars, the conqueror whose hands were red with the blood of massacred christians, the victorious leader of that fanatic race whose life is more influenced by their creed than that of perhaps any other human community, himself approved the chosen patriarch, the head of his new subjects' religion, and with his own hands elevated him to that high office. thus from the centre of constantine's city in its new aspect of purely oriental colouring, the seraglio, the latticed prison of those whose privilege it is to give birth to the sons of islam, new life was given to greek orthodoxy by him whose sword had hitherto been raised against it. so the life of the old city, the heart of a new empire continued, and one ruler followed another, and like those of the second act, some were good, others bad, but none wholly indifferent. another bajazet followed on mahomed the conqueror and carried on the victorious traditions of his house. mahomed died suddenly among his soldiers, leaving two sons, who contested for the sovereignty, as has so often happened in the history of empires raised by the hand of one strong man. zizimes, the younger son, suggested a division of the empire, bajazet to rule over roumelia, zizimes to govern anatolia with the hellespont as boundary between their realms. but bajazet would none of it. "the empire is a bride whose favours cannot be shared," he said, and zizimes was defeated and had to seek refuge at the courts of other rulers, some christian, but none of them favourable to the furtherance of his hopes. his death was caused by poison, administered by a servant of the pope, alexander borgia, who thereby gained a reward of 300,000 ducats from the brother bajazet, the sum that borgia had agreed to for the deed, and would probably have earned himself had not charles viii of france invaded italy and carried off zizimes from the guardianship of the roman pontiff. and the romantic history of this chosen spot of byzas continues within the walls of the seraglio, one sultan following another and making his throne secure by murdering others that stood near it. thus did selim i to his brethren. he was the youngest, the ablest and most daring of the sons of bajazet, and in his father's lifetime intrigued against him for possession of the throne. his efforts proved successful. a rabble of soldiers and citizens surrounded the seraglio and demanded audience of the sultan. "what is your desire?" inquired bajazet. "our padishah is old and sickly, and we will that selim shall be our sultan." so bajazet abdicated, to die a few days afterwards, and selim reigned in his stead. having secured the throne selim bent his mind on conquest and the suppression of schism among the followers of the prophets. the shiites repudiated the claim to the caliphate of mahomed's immediate successors, abu-dekr, omar and othman. so for reasons probably as much political as religious, selim proclaimed himself champion of orthodoxy, and sullied his reign by the st. bartholomew of ottoman history. in all there were 70,000 of his subjects who held to the shii doctrine within the ottoman dominion in europe and asia, 40,000 of these were massacred and 30,000 sentenced to perpetual imprisonment. and selim became caliph of the moslem faith. then follows one whose name looms large in history, solyman i the great, his title nobly earned not only by valour in the field, but by wisdom in the council--and he was great among a galaxy of great christian sovereigns, charles v, francis i, henry viii and pope leo x. the world was then entering on modern times, and many changes were in progress. but who will deny to this the first inception of the modern spirit, the glamour of romance. the art and practice of war was undergoing a change, the arts of peace were reviving. holbein was making illustrious sovereigns yet more illustrious by his cunning hand, and the bold spirits of a new europe found yet newer countries across the seas. the name of solyman conjures up visions of the glowing glory of the eastern empire, of the force and vigour of islam, for selim had enjoined upon his son to carry war into the countries that professed the faith of the cross. through this monarch's enterprise was romance enriched by the story of his wars, as when against hungary he penetrated even as far as vienna, which he besieged, what time the poles came stoutly to the help of europe, to be rewarded later in history by the partition of poland and a period of oppression which is not yet ended. with him we connect another glorious name, who brought to his master, victorious on land, new laurels won at sea, barbarossa, solyman's great admiral. yet another name that rings out from within the walls of the seraglio, and is known by all who love romance, is that of roxalana. solyman's favourite sultana in the earlier part of his reign had been a beautiful circassian. her son mustapha inherited his mother's beauty, and was a pattern of manly and chivalrous excellence. but the circassian sultana lost the imperial favour. a lovely russian girl, khourrem ("the joyous one"), enkindled anew the passion of love in the sultan's breast. she was a slave, she obtained her freedom from her royal lover and induced him to wed her. khourrem, or as the christians called her "roxalana" became sultana. her aims and ambition was to forward the chances of her own children, and to that end mustapha had to be removed. she ruled solyman to the day of her death, and had the satisfaction of bringing about the murder of mustapha before she died. he was appointed governor of carmania, and so skilfully did roxalana work upon solyman that he was at last induced to believe that mustapha was plotting to usurp the throne. mustapha was ordered to enter the sultan's presence alone, and solyman looking on from an inner chamber saw seven mute executioners carry out his command to strangle his son with the bowstring. and so the romance that sheds a glamour over the history enacted within the seraglio walls flows on, while fortune favours those who merit it, and wrong-doing is often punished by those drastic measures to which these grey embattlements had long become accustomed. roxalana herself was buried in all due state not a stone's throw from the spot where her sovereign lord afterwards found his rest. but in the two chambers where they lie you will notice a difference. to enter that of solyman you must take off your shoes, the place is holy ground--the grave of a warrior who is almost a saint. you may, however, pass to the chamber of the "joyous one" shod as you are. she has no soul, that makes all the difference. they tell of selim, solyman's successor, roxalana's son, who broke the law of the prophet and died drunk; othman ii, of the revolt of the janissaries and their choice of sultan--until the seat of government was moved from the place where byzas first made his choice and constantine and his successors reigned, until they in due time gave way to those of the house of ottoman. but is the present state of this seraglio less romantic than in those days of fierce passion untrammelled and only expressed in blood? the head priest, the sheik-ul-islam, has decreed that there is no infringement of the laws of islam in its sons expressing higher thoughts by means artistic. and so the life of the seraglio goes on, peaceful, more beautiful, and just as much romance as heretofore. chapter iv seraglio point (_continued_) seraglio point itself, or rather the extreme end of it at least, is now open to the sea. it was not always so, and is only safe now that long-range guns have completely revolutionized the methods of defence. where our travellers alighted was a wall flanked by strong towers, 188 in all, says bondelmontius; this extended all along the coast by the sea of marmora, until it joined the angle where the land-walls that cut right across the peninsula commence. remains, and fine remains, of their sea-wall are still here, at one place dipping their stout foundations into the sea, at others further inland on spots which were in former times the harbour. no doubt the first wall here was built by byzas, but it has vanished and made room for the ramparts which constantine the great erected to defend his new capital. what yet remains is full of interest and has a beauty of its own. when looking towards the city from modar or kadikeui on the asiatic side, the city seems to arise from out a girdle of embattled walls, to lose itself in a forest of slender minarets. on approaching these walls their interest increases, for here are arches built up and strange inscriptions, gateways that each contribute many pages to history. theodosius ii and his præfect constantius have here left records of their rule; the emperor theophilus is mentioned in the same manner as the restorer of the walls, and so is the share that emperor isaac angelus contributed to their repair. no doubt there was much need of walls to guard the ever-extending sea-front of the city along the shore of the sea of marmora; for though the greeks, and after them the turks, were generally able to forestall an attack by striking first, this policy in the degenerate times of the empire was not always practicable. still the sea-walls were not exposed to the assaults of an enemy to such an extent as were the landward ones; their worst enemy was the sea in its destructive phases, and other elements aided in rendering insecure man's tenure of this precious slip of land. the traveller must remember the first sight of constantine's glorious city; he approached it at high noon and saw it melting in a golden haze rising out of tranquil waters, which mirrored faithfully the colour of the sky, while many other colours flamed and fleeted like sparkling diamonds. yet as we approached seraglio point the strength of the current became evident, the current against which those heavy-built sailing craft, aided by their oars, battled so manfully, while it bore other small craft swiftly out into the sea of marmora. this current with its constant wear and tear put a severe strain on the foundations of the seaward walls upon seraglio point. the traveller's first view was in the fairest of fair weather; but in the winter, when the piercing icy gale tears down through the narrow channel of the bosphorus, ploughing up its waters to dash them against the facings of the promontory, another side of the picture is revealed, and helps to account for the constant repairs that were needed to keep the seaward ramparts in a proper state of defence. not only those storms that scourge the racing billows to the charge, but other forces have helped to frustrate man's efforts to shelter himself from fierce foemen and fiercer elements. for in 447 an earthquake visited this fair spot and wreaked much havoc among the stout walls and stouter towers that constantine constructed. again, some three centuries later, a most severe winter held all that eastern neighbourhood in an iron grip. according to theophanes, the black sea along the northern and western shores was frozen to a distance of one hundred miles from land, and that to a depth of sixty feet. upon this foundation a huge mass of snow some forty-five feet in height had gathered. with the softer breath of spring the ice broke up, and floating on the swift currents of the bosphorus came the floes in such numbers that they blocked up the narrower passages and formed a floating barricade across the channel from scutari to galata. when this mass in its turn was loosened and drifted south, huge icebergs crashed against the bulwarks, so high that they overtopped the towers and ramparts of the sea-wall, so great that their weight and impetus crushed all that opposed their progress. and thus the walls along the apex of the promontory had to be entirely reconstructed by michael ii, who commenced the work, and his son theophilus, who completed it. author and artist have discussed most seriously how best to show the traveller these walls along the sea of marmora, for there is much to be seen. the artist loves the view from across the sea of marmora seen at sunrise, of the city swimming in a sea of pearly grey; or at sunset, purple against a glowing mass of orange, red and green, colours which are all truthfully reflected in the placid waters. and the centre of the composition is the seraglio lighthouse. close behind it rise battlemented walls and towers, and then in tiers of little red roofs above the grey wooden houses, among trees of all kinds, while everywhere the immortal cypress strives after the minarets that stand as sentinels to the many mosques which crown the heights of the city. here, too, on that tranquil sheet of water, pages of history have been unrolled, filled up, and set aside for the guidance of future generations. for though the seaward walls were strong and bravely manned, though they were further guarded by a current which could dash an enemy's fleet to atoms on the strong surface of the defences, or carry it harmless out to sea again, many a shipload of adventurous spirits has tried conclusions with the men who held them and the elements which guarded the approaches with equal jealousy. perhaps the first serious attempt upon the seaward walls was made by those scourges of the mediterranean, the saracens. it was on this occasion that mention is first made of the use of a chain to close the entrance of a harbour against an enemy. it was stretched across the golden horn, from a tower near the apex of the promontory to one upon the northern bank. those were stirring times, when the sons of arabia felix, the first disciples of the prophet, spread out over all the mediterranean and the neighbouring countries. they conquered in breathless advance egypt and all north of africa, and held their own still in its most western region. they invaded persia, they overflowed into spain, overthrew the gothic monarchy, and remained, despite the heroic efforts of charlemagne and his paladins. syria and the holy places were theirs, and they snatched what was best and most worth having among the islands of the mediterranean. what wonder, then, that they turned their eager, flashing eyes towards constantinople? as we stand gazing at the beautiful city that rises proudly out of a tranquil sea, the waters become troubled, and dark-blue and iron-grey storm-clouds gather in the south. they race up from the dardanelles, and hundreds of rakish-looking craft, rigged as those that the traveller may see any day off the north coast of africa, fly before the wind. the rain falls in torrents, and then suddenly all is still again, the sea is quiet, and the rearguard of the tempest sweeps away up the bosphorus, to leave the sun in possession of its former battlefield. even so came the invincible navies of egypt and syria, carrying the swarthy sons of arabia towards the treasures they descried within the walls of constantine's imperial city. and up it comes, this storm-cloud, over a smooth sea, and borne on a gentle breeze like a moving forest overshadowing the surface of the strait. others of their fierce race and fiercer faith were arrayed before the land-walls; and no one of the invaders doubted that any bulwarks, however strong, however well defended, could resist the tide of passionate bravery that was about to break over the devoted city. but the time was not yet come. leo iii the isaurian, a man risen from the people to the imperial purple through his ability and valour, knew how to defend his own. he had the chain that guarded the entrance to the harbour lowered, and, while the enemy hesitated as to which course to adopt, greek fireships sailed amongst them carrying destruction as to the armada. this, and the tempests that arose, so seriously damaged the hitherto invincible fleet that only a few galleys were spared to return to alexandria and to relate the tale of their moving misadventures. though peace was never the lot of the eastern empire for any protracted period, it was more than a century later that an unfriendly keel furrowed the waters of the sea of marmora. and this time the trouble came from within. michael ii the stammerer had gained the throne when leo v the armenian was slain at the foot of the altar grasping a weighty cross in his hand. thomas contested michael's claim and sailed towards the city to enforce his own, but a storm arose and compelled him to withdraw. so thomas and his galleys are wafted from the scene to be followed shortly afterwards by other hardier adventurers. they came down from the black sea, a black cloud their canopy, on black waters that turned to silver where the prows of their vessels cleared a path. fierce, reckless foes these, who in 865 first made acquaintance with the eastern gate of europe, a goal that for ten centuries represented the sum of their ambition. fair men of big stature with high cheek-bones, speaking a barbarous language, they sped down on the wings of a fierce gale towards the golden horn. but here the tempest gained the mastery, and this the first russian fleet to disturb the peace of constantinople perished in the storm. again a visionary host crowds the further banks with their glittering arms and pennants waving overhead; all the chivalry of the west is here assembled. their numbers are so great that the byzantine agents gave up the task of counting them. they came from all the west: from rome to britain, from poland and bohemia and all germany under the banner of conrad the kaiser. louis of france too, and his nobles, swelled this throng, who, with the cross emblazoned on their shields and embroidered on their garments, set out upon this conquest of the holy land. we see them cross the waters, while hope beats high in their unconquered hearts, and would rather draw a veil over the return of the mere remnant of survivors. then later on came others in larger vessels, from the south: genoese, experienced travellers and determined fighters; also venetians, the only race of sea-dogs that ever succeeded in an attempt on these sea-walls. a striking scene this. in double line the ships and lighter galleys of the venetians bore down upon the walls. soldiers leapt from the swifter sailing craft on to shore and planted scaling-ladders against the walls. in the meantime the heavier ships filled up the gaps with their high poop-decks and turrets, as platforms for those military engines then in use, and from them drawbridges were lowered to the summit of the wall. on the prow of his galley stood dandolo, the venerable doge, in full armour. he was the first warrior on the shore. the standard of st. mark waved from the ramparts and twenty-five of the towers were speedily occupied, the greeks being driven by fire from the adjacent quarters. but dandolo decided to forego the advantage thus gained in order to hasten to the aid of his latin comrades, whose small and exhausted bands were in sore straits among the superior numbers of the greeks. nevertheless, their firm aspect awed the coward emperor alexius. but he collected a treasure of 10,000 pounds of gold, and basely deserting his wife and people crept into a barque and stole through the bosphorus and sought safety in an obscure thracian harbour. two mighty heroes of history and romance, both known as barbarossa, add yet more colour to the vivid pageant that plays over these placid waters. for further to the south, where the sea of marmora narrows into the channel of the dardanelles, the redbeard frederick, conrad's son and successor to the throne of the holy roman empire, if not the greatest, at least the best known in the romantic story of the house of hohenstauffen, crossed into asia to find, after many deeds of derring do, his watery grave in a small cilician torrent. there were many who believed he was not dead, but only slumbering deep among the ruins of kyffhausen--his long red beard grown through the table on which his hand supports his head, the while he dreams even as he has dreamt through all the troublous times that visited germany. dreamt while the last scion of his house perished; dreamt while a war of thirty years, provoked like all the cruelest wars by religious differences, devastated the fair fields of germany and laid waste many a walled city; dreamt while the march of the first napoleon's armies made europe tremble--only to awake when all germany arose and marched towards the rhine and into the empire of the third napoleon, and returning thence to build up a new and stronger empire. the next to bear the epithet of barbarossa lived his eventful life when francis i was king of france and charles v king of spain, naples and the netherlands, and by election german emperor, ruled over many states and provinces of the old world and the new. solyman i the great was sultan and chief, and reigned at constantinople, extending the empire of the crescent by land far into western europe, while barbarossa carried the victorious symbol everywhere in the mediterranean sea. his name was khairedden pasha, one of four brothers who were trained to merchandise with its usual concomitant piracy, and amassed great wealth in these pursuits. barbarossa and his brother urudsh sailed at first under the flag of the tunisian sultan but paid tribute to solyman, and eventually transferred to him their allegiance. they conquered temnes, algiers, and all the barbary coast, which they held as fief of the porte. all his ventures seemed to be successful. a strong fleet was sent against him under command of genoa's great admiral, doria, by charles v, but barbarossa defied him. a stately pageant passed down the sea of marmora in 1534. barbarossa and his fleet of eighty-four vessels, with which he scoured the mediterranean sea, ravaged the coasts of italy, minorca and spain, and beat the combined fleets of the emperor, the pope, and venice off prevesa. after many years of successful marauding we see the turkish fleet return, still under command of their veteran admiral, barbarossa, whose beard was turning white. a peaceful end in constantinople was his, and now the body that held that turbulent spirit rests worthily enshrined by the shore of the bosphorus. with the passing of barbarossa a new power first makes its appearance under the walls of old byzantium, its colours the white ensign emblazoned with st. george's blood-red cross. tight-built english ships, some of which may possibly have borne their brave part in the defeat of spain's great armada, are next seen sailing smoothly upon the waters of the inland sea. they bring messages from elizabeth, queen of england, to amurath ii, sultan and chief. again, a century later, when ibrahim, an evil ruler, reigned over the turkish empire, and excesses of all kinds went unpunished, some english ships lying in the bosphorus were plundered. it was the custom then in turkey, when any one had received an injury from a minister or official, for him to put fire on his head and run to the palace. stout sir thomas bentinck, the english ambassador--redress for the outrage to english ships having been refused--brought them up from galata and anchored them immediately before the windows of the imperial palace. adapting the custom we have mentioned, he lighted fires on every yard-arm. no sooner was this seen on shore than the vizier hastened to the ambassador, paid him a large sum of money, and engaging to pay the surplus of the sum demanded, besought him to extinguish the warning blaze. but now, at the bidding of the author, we move landwards again. as we approach, bearing somewhat to the south of the seraglio lighthouse, the buildings above us stand out more clearly. constantine's church, now mosque of st. sophia, looms over all the attendant minarets, relieving the imposing mass of masonry of its too heavy aspect. near by the mosque of st. irene, also of constantine's building. in this mosque is still kept the chain that barred the golden horn to the turks during the last siege. a long yellow building stands out near st. sophia, and shows a pillared front to the smooth waters of the marmora. this is now the turkish parliament, though in a short time that young and vigorous assembly is to transfer its deliberations to one of the more gorgeous palaces of the bosphorus. fittingly enough it stands almost on the site of the senate of roman, grecian and byzantine empire. here centred much of the life of the old city of constantine, hard by is the hippodrome which that emperor laid out. it was here that the city's pleasure-seeking denizens met to enjoy the games, the chariot-races, and other pastimes peculiar to that age. what fortunes must have been wagered or dissipated by a single crashing blow of the cæstus, or by one slip of the runner as he left the starting-line! how many a delicate girl must have held her hands in horror to her eyes, when under the brazen tripod fell the charioteer who had swerved too closely to the corner, and drawn down the other competitors with him in his ruin. here, also, in later times of trouble or internal strife the citizens would meet and clamour to be taken to the palace, there to acclaim a heroic emperor, or abuse an unpopular leader. how fickle and ill-balanced that turbulent cosmopolitan crowd must have been, we realize from the curious history of justinian. justinian, bearing the name of a triumphant lawgiver, entered into the heritage of the roman world in 685. he was a lad of strong passions and feeble intellect. he ruled with a cruelty gross even for that age and place, through the hands of his favourite ministers, a eunuch and a monk, by whose aid he succeeded for ten years in braving the growing hatred of his subjects. a sudden freak, rather than any sense of the justice he habitually outraged, induced the emperor to liberate leontius, a general of high repute, who, with some of the city's noblest and most deserving men, had suffered imprisonment for above three years. leontius was promoted to be governor of greece. a successful conspiracy was headed by him, the prisons were forced open, and an excited populace swarmed to the church of st. sophia, where the patriarch, taking as text for his sermon, "this is the day of the lord," influenced the passions of the multitude. they crowded into the hippodrome, justinian was dragged before the insurgent judges, who clamoured for his immediate death. but leontius, already clothed in the purple, was merciful, and spared the life of his benefactor's son, the scion of so many emperors, and, slightly mutilated about the face, the deposed sovereign was banished to the crimea. here he abode, and watched events of which the news trickled through but sparingly. news of another revolution arrived, in which leontius fell from power a mutilated victim, to make room for apsimar, who henceforth called himself tiberius. meanwhile justinian had contracted an alliance with the khan of the chazars by marrying that chief's sister, theodora. but the khan proved venal, and bribed by the gold of constantinople sought to bring about justinian's death. in vain, for theodora's conjugal love frustrated this design, and justinian with his own hands strangled the two emissaries of the khan. he then sent theodora back to her brother. thereupon justinian sailed away, and with the aid of the bulgarians laid siege to his own city, which having tired of their present ruler admitted him to the throne again. so we find justinian in the hippodrome surrounded by his people. the two usurpers, leontius and apsimar, were dragged one from his prison, the other from his palace, and cast prostrate and in fetters before the throne, where justinian sat and watched the chariot-race, a foot on the neck of each vanquished rival. the fickle people meanwhile shouted in the words of the psalmist, "thou shalt trample on the asp and basilisk, and on the lion and the dragon shalt thou set thy foot." even in those early days the use of a well-known text, taken conveniently apart from its context, was a political weapon not to be despised. when the games were over leontius and apsimar were taken down to the kynegion, the place of execution near the church of st. george of mangana, and there justinian requited the ill-judged clemency of his former conqueror. but his own capricious cruelty so disgusted the troops he had dispatched to carry out the sentence of those on whom the emperor had sworn to be avenged, that they revolted, and invested bardanes with the imperial purple. destitute of friends, and deserted by his barbarian guard, there was none to ward off the stroke of the assassin, and by it justinian, along with his innocent son, tiberius, perished, and thus ended the line of heraclius. [illustration: the palace of hormisdas or justinian. this place is full of the memories of dark and strange events, it is the palace of justinian.] chapter v the walls by the sea of marmora let us go ashore under the sea-walls of constantinople. we now approach the white seraglio lighthouse, keeping a little south of it and yet a little more, rounding a slight bend of the coast to westward. here, beyond a strong square tower which formerly showed a flare of grecian fire to guide the mariner, is a stretch of beach, author and artist insist on landing. the tower we left on our right joins on to a large front of masonry, built stoutly of rough stones as you may see where the walls are broken, and where a few marble pillars frame hollow openings for the windows. this place is full of the memories of dark and strange events, it is the palace of justinian. old chroniclers called this the palace of hormisdas, or hormouz, prince of persia, who sought refuge here with constantine the great. others, again, suggest that this palace was built by justinian himself before he began his long and useful reign. at any rate, great and famous names occur to us as we survey these ruins. it is an astounding chapter of history this, which tells how justinian came to inherit the imperial purple. his uncle justin was the founder of his house, a simple dacian peasant who left his native village and the flocks he tended to enter the military service of the eastern empire. through his own strength, his own ability and valour in the field, justin the dacian peasant rose step by step until he took his place next to cæsar himself in importance. then when the emperor anastasius died, after carefully excluding his own kinsman from the throne, justin was acclaimed emperor by the unanimous consent of those who knew him to be brave and gentle, his soldiers, and by those who held him to be orthodox, the priests. so in his old age, for he was sixty-eight when anastasius died, justin climbed the throne and reigned for nine years. strange, too, it is, that he and yet another ruler of his time, theodoric, the king of italy, even in those days when learning was by no means uncommon, should both have been unable to read and write. justin had brought his nephew justinian out of dacia, and had him educated in constantinople to be trained for the purple. his was a curious and eventful reign. of great strength and comely of face, full of the best intentions and restless in his pursuit of knowledge, justinian entered into his inheritance; he had been his uncle justin's right hand, and so was well acquainted with all the devious ways of statecraft. so everything promised well, and in a measure he succeeded. the wars he undertook were brought to a successful issue, the laws he framed should have earned him the people's gratitude, yet justinian was not beloved. no doubt these walls could tell the reason--you may almost hear them whisper, "theodora, the actress, the dancer, and justinian's empress." surely those were stirring times, when justinian and theodora sat side by side upon the throne, when circus and streets rang with the cries of factions, blue and green. and theodora favoured blue--her cause for doing so dates back to the day of her earliest appearance in constantinople--in the theatre. here she and her sisters, daughters of acacius, whose office was to tend the wild beasts that the green faction kept for the games, were brought by their mother in the garb of suppliants. the green faction received them with contempt, the blues with compassion, and hence the reason that theodora favoured that colour. then some time elapsed, during which it were best not to follow theodora's fortunes. during this epoch a son was born to her. years after, the father of the child when dying told him: "your mother is an empress." the son of theodora hastened to constantinople, hurried to the palace to present himself--and was never seen again. when in seclusion at alexandria theodora had a vision which told her that one day she would wear the purple, so she returned to constantinople, and ere long won justinian's love. so they reigned side by side, and justinian first of that name is still called "the great." let whatever evil she may have done be forgotten. are not the scandals of that time softened by the mists of romance which enshroud them, for all but those who like to peer about among the secrets of dead men, and to cavil at their failings, and tear what tatters of reputation they can find into yet smaller shreds. nearly four centuries had passed, and yet again the palace of justinian was witness of imperial weakness. the greek fleet rode at anchor beneath the windows of the palace, and from his ship the admiral romanus lecapenus made his way into the presence of the emperor. there he demanded of constantine vii, called porphyrogenitus, a share in the government of the empire, and was proclaimed co-emperor. at one time during this reign five cæsars wore the purple; he who was born in it, constantine vii, porphyrogenitus, ranked least among them, but he survived them all in office to die of poison, it is said administered by theophane, the wife of his son, romanus ii. again a woman plays a strong part in the history of these palace walls. a woman of low origin, this wife of the eastern emperor, son of constantine vii, and under the careless reign of her good-natured husband, she made her vigorous personality a power in the land. four years did romanus ii reign, and in that time did nothing that could afford the historian excuse for lingering on his name. strongly built and fair to look upon, his time was spent in the pleasures he best loved. while the two brothers leo and nicephones triumphed over the saracens, the emperor's days were spent in strenuous leisure. he visited the circus in the morning, feasted the senators at noon, and then adjourned to the sphæristerium, the tennis-court, where he achieved his only victories. from time to time he would cross over to the asiatic side, and there hunt the wild boar, returning to the palace well content with what he probably considered a good day's work. theophane tired of her useless spouse, and mingled for him the same deadly draught which killed his father. she then aspired to reign in the name of her two sons, basil and constantine, one five, the other only two years old, but found she could not support the weight of such responsibility, and looked about for some one to protect her. she found the man in nicephorus phocas, who was then accounted the bravest soldier in the land. in other ways he appeared suitable, for he combined with the military genius that had led to many victories the reputation of a saint. for the rest, in person he was deformed, so that perchance theophane's spacious heart was aided by her head when she set about to choose the successor to romanus in her affections. another like him lived many centuries later and ruled over england, richard of gloucester--and through the hazy veil wherewith romance so kindly clothes the crude outlines of history, it is difficult to decide to what extent the religious practices and utterances of these two monarchs were prompted by sincerity or guile. for nicephorus wore hair-cloth, fasted, and clothed his conversation with pious terms; he even wished to retire from the business of this world into the serene seclusion of a monastery. whatever the value of the sentiments he expressed, the people and the patriarch trusted him, and so he was invested with the command of the oriental armies. no sooner had he received the leaders and the troops than he marched boldly into constantinople at their head. he trampled on his enemies, avowed his correspondence with the empress, and assumed the title of augustus. unlike his double, richard, he spared the lives of the young princes. after some dubious dealings, the silence of the clergy made his union with theophane possible, so he reached the height of his ambition--the imperial purple. but, strange to say, the once so popular general when in the purple lost the affection of his people. no doubt the faults were equally divided, the greeks disliked him for his parsimony, and he had ample precedent of how easily a fickle population can change from favour to fierce hatred. a demonstration of this change caused nicephorus to fortify the palace of justinian; he had been stoned by his own people, and had barely reached the palace in safety. whilst standing by the sea under this mass of ruins, let us go back to a winter's night in 969. the additions to the palace that nicephorus had made to guard him against the fury of his subjects had that day been completed. the gates were locked and bolted, the windows strongly barred, and, as a further precaution, the emperor had moved from the couch and room he generally occupied at night, and lay asleep stretched on a bear-skin on the floor of a smaller chamber. but treachery lurked within the palace walls; murderous plans were rife, and they were conceived in the brain of an adulterous empress. and listening by those dark waves we hear the sound of muffled oars. a boat takes shape in the gloom at the foot of the palace stairs. headed by john zimisces, lover of theophane, a man of small stature but great strength and beauty, and a soldier of renown, shadowy forms ascend a rope ladder, lowered from a window by some female attendants. other conspirators were hidden in theophane's most private chambers; they reached the emperor's retreat, and with much cruelty and insult nicephorus ii phocas was done to death. john zimisces reigned in his stead, but ere he was allowed to assume full power with the sanction of the church he had to face at least one upright man. on the threshold of st. sophia, whither he went to his coronation, the intrepid patriarch stopped his progress, charged him with entering the holy place with blood upon his hands, and demanded, as a sign of penance, he should separate himself from his guilty companion. so theophane was banished from the place that still is haunted by her baleful influence, and died unmourned in exile. another vision, less sombre, equally dramatic and more fleeting, comes and fades away. amaury, king of jerusalem, visits manuel comnenus in 1170, to implore his aid against saladin. a brief pathetic scene thus re-enacts itself, brief as the reign of those, the christian kings of david's royal city, pathetic in the waste of life, the misery, the abject hopelessness that marked those chivalrous enterprises known to us as the crusades. one final scene before we turn away from this historic spot, the last scene in its history, and splendid in its utter despair. here, at the last siege of constantinople by the turks, stout-hearted peter guliano and his gallant catalans held out when all else was lost. a steep incline leads from the beach, past little wooden houses perched anywhere against the ruined walls. they look like that old house--that dear old house--hans andersen speaks of in the shortest of his fairy tales. we climb up the steep ascent, and at the top find more ruins--the base of a gigantic marble pillar, broken arches built of brick and glorious in their subdued colour; and then--the railway. yes, gentle readers, the roumelian railway, to give it its full and awesome title. and we must follow this railway if we would see more of the city walls. you may walk anywhere you like along the single track. a little pathway winds about here and there and everywhere, and on either hand are houses, some of wood, some more pretentious, scattered about with irregularity. above us is the ridge on which the hippodrome, theatre, and circus used to stand in days when a pleasure-loving population spent time and money in much the same way as do some western nations of this day. no doubt they too considered themselves sportsmen; no doubt they too danced abject attendance and stood numerous dinners to the stalwart hero who was awarded his "blue" or his "green," as the case might be. and as to some forms of sport in those days of the byzantine empire, we have already given account of one sportsman's strenuous day, the emperor romanus, and we have seen how his wife discouraged his proclivities, by methods effective, but far too drastic for the present age. ancient chroniclers make mention of a polo-ground, but it is too much to expect such very learned men to tell you how the game was played. yet this concerns the author and artist nearly, for both have spent much time and pleasantly in the saddle. no doubt the game, under whatever rules, was extremely picturesque; the life, the colour, the movement of horses and men engaged in such a keen pursuit can never fail to give a series of brilliant and entrancing pictures. but when you come to details! no trim pigskin saddles, but possibly some coloured bolsters, with loose bits of braid or tassels for adornment; no doubt bright-coloured brow-bands--that abomination! and then the ball. the artist wonders whether it was painted the colour of one of the many factions that made up the political life of the city--blue, green, or red--or whether, like keen sportsmen, such differences were dropped in contests of this kind. undoubtedly party feeling ran high when races--chariot-races chiefly--were in progress at the hippodrome. these green and blue kept up a continual wordy warfare, and no doubt backed their own fancy colour with the same indiscriminate ardour not altogether unfamiliar even in the world's greatest empire of to-day. and here again another likeness presents itself, for the games were played and contests entered by men paid to show their skill, while thousands sat and watched, shouted advice, or yelled their disapproval, though quite unable and unwilling to venture on the game themselves. of fishing there is no mention as a sport. the author much regrets to have to make this statement, as he would have liked to give walton's disciples of to-day some account of how their gentle art was plied in the days of old byzantium. but then the necessary implements were not available, for the west had not yet swamped the east with cheap manufactures and easily-twisted pins in penny packets. the artist has watched with interest gallant attempts with the bent pin to draw fish from the bosphorus. the small boy with his little rod so evidently cut by himself, and one sticky little hand full of dead flies, served to remind the artist of his own efforts in that line. oh the unholy joy of impaling a fat blue-bottle on the point of that bent pin! but the chief pleasure of this form of sport is lacking on the banks of the bosphorus; the long arm of the law does not interfere, and so the charm of the "strictly forbidden" is denied you. a noble form of sport was practised in the middle ages, and until comparatively recent times a pastime that has given rise to much that is beautiful in poetry and painting--the art of falconry. this was a favourite pursuit of many a sultan, this and hunting with those strong hounds whose descendants (though to judge from their appearance one can scarcely believe it) now roam the streets of constantinople, and act as rather unsatisfactory scavengers. a mighty sportsman in these particulars was achmet i, who reigned in the beginning of the seventeenth century. it was in this monarch's reign that the turkish theologians propounded a peculiar doctrine. achmet had ordered all the dogs in constantinople to be transported to scutari, on the opposite side of the bosphorus, with an allowance of bread and carrion for their maintenance. by a later decree they were again removed, this time to an island sixteen miles away, where they all perished for want of food. the lives of dogs, though held unclean by turks, were deemed of such importance that the sultan thought fit to ask the mufti whether it were lawful to kill them. after due deliberation the head of islam answered (for he can give no fetvah or decree unless first consulted) that every dog had a soul, and therefore it was not lawful to kill them. what subsequently happened to the dogs is not recorded; some legends say that they swam back to their old haunts, and incidentally to their ladies, who it appears had not been exiled. certain it is that their lives were spared, for there are plenty to be seen everywhere in old stamboul and its neighbourhood, for of course achmet, a pious moslem, would not disregard the mufti's momentous utterance. that achmet was a pious man is without doubt; his mosque bears witness to his devotion, a mosque which far out-rivalled that of st. sophia in the splendour of its decoration, though it is somewhat smaller. great treasures were spent upon this mosque, and neither trouble nor expense were spared to make it more glorious than any other. but achmet left behind an unpaid, discontented army and an empty treasury, having grasped the secret of laying up for himself treasure in heaven by the ingenious method of robbing other people's possessions on earth. in those days east and west drew nearer to each other than heretofore. where formerly the west had paid sporadic visits which were by no means always welcome, commerce had begun to spread its tendrils, and found the policy of turkey singularly liberal. so all the greater nations established relations on that friendly basis with the porte; england, france and holland had each a regularly accredited ambassador at the ottoman court. this inaugurated a more peaceful method of settling disputes, as, for example, when the moors of granada brought to the sultan their grievance against france, telling how, in their passage to that country on being expelled from spain, they had suffered bodily harm and loss of goods. a chaus or ambassador from sultan achmet to henry iv soon set matters right without resort to what diplomats call the _ultima ratio_. while on the subject of ambassadors a romantic story should be told, an incident which nearly disturbed the peace of europe. achmet left seven sons, all infants, into whose hands he could not place the reins of government, which he himself had held but loosely. on his accession he had not found it necessary to clear his path and prevent further trouble by the usual remedy of fratricide. his only brother, mustapha, was thoroughly incompetent, almost an idiot. yet it was he whom achmet declared as his successor, and the mufti, the ulema, the high college of priests, and the high officers of state approved his choice and placed mustapha on the throne. in all his acts mustapha emphasized his incapacity to rule, and one of them went near to cause a rupture with france. it fell out thus. two captives languished in the dungeons of a castle on the black sea. one was prince koreski, a pole, who had been taken prisoner in moldavia during the last reign, and was confined here because he had refused to turn mahomedan. the other who shared koreski's cell was rigault, a frenchman, who kept up a clandestine correspondence with a fellow-countryman, martin, secretary to the french embassy at constantinople. now martin loved a young polish lady, who with her mother and her maid was held prisoner by the turks. martin succeeded in purchasing the freedom of these ladies by a payment to the sultan of two thousand five hundred crowns. but when the ladies returned to their home in poland the father refused to accede to the arrangement and practically forbade the banns. so in his trouble martin confided all to his friend rigault, who in his turn told all to the prince. now koreski was a man of great influence in his own country, and told rigault to assure his friend that if their escape from prison could be managed, martin should not pine long for his lady-love. so martin set to work right eagerly. a greek priest who went to visit the prisoners concealed under his garments a long piece of pack-thread, and by these means the captives gained their freedom. mustapha's police sought diligently, but only managed to discover martin's share in the transaction, so the whole french embassy were put under arrest. the ambassador was confined in the grand vizier's palace, rigault and the domestics were put to the torture. the protests of the english and dutch ambassadors failed to move mustapha, and it was only through large donations to the chief officers of state that the french embassy was set at liberty. while listening to the tales the author has to tell, our travellers have picked their way along the railway-line, and have threaded in and out among the picturesque inhabitants of this quarter. here [illustration: the sea wall. these remnants of massive walls with battlemented summits, or perhaps little wooden houses are perched on top.] stand broken arches, loopholes looking out to sea; there remnants of massive walls with battlemented summits, or perhaps little wooden houses are perched on top, with their latticed windows; while beneath them one sees gardens, where part of a prophecy is at least fulfilled, for every man has his own fig-tree. and as we walk on these remains, the walls recede inland and disappear altogether, for here was formerly a harbour, and the name of the station we are passing, koum kapoussi--sand-gate--was given to the gate that opened out on the harbour of the kontoscalion. a fair-sized harbour too, now all silted up and built over. what life and bustle was here in the days of old byzant, those days of the great traders from the east, west and south. and what stores of treasure were landed at this spot. work from the looms of greece was stapled here, manufacturers of linen, woollen and silk--the former industries which had flourished since the days of homer, the latter introduced about the time of justinian. perhaps it was here that those rich gifts arrived for basil i from his generous friend, danielis, the rich matron of peloponnesus, who had adopted him as her own. doubtless the goods she sent were products of the grecian looms. even an emperor of byzantium must have greeted with pleased astonishment the beauty of the presents sent by his friend. a carpet large enough to overspread the floor of a new church, woven of fine wool and cunningly designed to represent and rival the brilliant eyes that adorn the peacock's tail. of silk and linen each six hundred pieces, the latter so exquisitely fine that an entire piece might be rolled into the hollow of a cane, the silk dyed with tyrian crimson, and the whole ornamented with fair needlework. duties were raised on all the goods that entered, and went towards suggesting the splendour of the emperor and his court. it is not possible to accurately compute the value of the goods and the vast sums they realized, but at least one traveller of experience was much impressed by what he witnessed here. a jew, and therefore no mean authority on pecuniary matters, one benjamin of tudela, speaks of the riches of byzantium, which he visited in the twelfth century-"it is here in the queen of cities that the tributes of the greek empire are annually deposited, and the lofty towers are filled with precious magazines of silk, purple and gold. it is said that constantinople pays each day to her sovereign 20,000 pieces of gold, which are levied on the shops, taverns, and markets, on the merchants of persia and egypt, of russia and hungary, of italy and spain, who frequent the capital by sea and land." nowadays the main source of public revenue is the crushing import duty on all new articles of 11 per cent., soon with the consent of the powers to be raised to 15. until recently every turkish subject resident in the capital paid also a capitation tax in lieu of the military service, which is now to be endured by all alike who cannot pay an exemption fee of £50. we walk on but a little further along the line, still past ruined walls and towers, and come to yet another gate, yedi kapoussi, or new gate. this was the entrance to a very ancient harbour--the oldest, it is said, along this stretch of coast. its origin is ascribed to eleutherius, who was one of the first to see this city rise. the site of the harbour is now entirely covered, and market-gardens are to be seen where formerly war-galleys sought refuge from enemies or elements. it is not certain at what date this harbour was abandoned, but it had happened before the final assault by mahomed the conqueror. the difficulty of keeping this harbour dredged must have been very considerable, for not only does the sea constantly cast sand along this coast, but just here the lycus, an historic stream, empties its waters into the sea of marmora, and deposits at its mouth an ever-increasing burden of rich mud washed down from above. according to tradition the harbour of eleutherius served not only for the safety of the empire's ships of war, but also as an entrance to the slave-market, which is said to have been somewhere in this neighbourhood. it is too sad, sadder than all the tales of cunning intrigue, ferocious crime and unscrupulous ambitions which make up so large a portion of the history enacted behind these city walls, to remember the vast multitude of human beings bartered here like the beasts of the field. innocent victims of misfortune were sold here, and many families must have met, possibly for the last time on earth, in this ghastly and degrading place, while captives that had escaped the sword in some bloody war of conquest or reprisal were here put up to auction, to be led away by their new masters and die in hopeless misery. but that sombre vision vanishes too under the sun that draws such brilliant colours from the ruined walls that so long sheltered this chartered and unchallenged iniquity, and we move onward by a laughing sea towards the west, turning south by a point or two as we leave the harbour of eleutherius behind us. we linger for a minute at the gate of psamathia--sand-gate again--and look out across the sea from a shady turkish café standing on a small spit of land that shelters a tiny harbour to westward. here are a number of those craft that we have seen flying down the bosphorus under full sail. the leisurely process of unloading is going forward, and stacks of wood are piled up carelessly and anywhere without undue hurry, while nimble-footed donkeys thread their way amongst the merchandise, and the driver follows sunk in his eastern reverie. and everywhere are dogs lounging together in little knots like elderly gentlemen in a club smoking-room (and always in the way), taking no interest in anything save the adventurous flies, and only giving an occasional languid snap at them. from here we thread our way through a maze of little narrow lanes of quaint wooden houses teeming with life and colour. here at a street corner a modest general store, showing some melons in their thick green coats, one with a large slice cut out by way of charity or advertisement, the green skin merging from pale lemon to a delicious crimson. near these a basketful of ripe tomatoes in their flaring red, contrasting strongly with the golden green of luscious grapes exposed for sale on delicate pink paper; yet all these colours harmonize, and in the cool depths of the background the owner sits and drowses cross-legged, amid all their glory. as we continue on our way we lose sight of these ancient sea-walls, for we have to turn inland awhile and follow the high-road that leads out into the open country. but now and then we see between the houses a glimpse of high towers and battlements in front of us. we turn down from the high-road, recross the railway-line, and find ourselves again amongst imposing ruins. standing out boldly is a fine tower, almost intact. as we draw nearer to it we understand how it came by its name, for this is the marble tower. it is a building of four storeys, constructed from the topmost string course downwards of large marble blocks, its white and gleaming foundations washed by the blue waters of the sea of marmora. to eastward, and joined on to the tower, stands a two-storied mass of masonry, with deep-arched window looking out to sea. these are the ruins of a castle that stood here to mark the place where sea-and land-walls joined. most probably it was the residence of some high military officer. surely a pleasant place to live in, strong and secure, with a spacious courtyard and perhaps a shady garden therein. or more likely still, this space, now a market-garden, was the scene of military life for many [illustration: the marble tower. standing out boldly is a fine tower, almost intact. this is the marble tower.] centuries; here the heavy-armed infantry of roman tradition made way for lighter troops whose dexterity replaced the armour they had abandoned. what discussions must have taken place when news came that a powder had been invented in the west, a powder which could hurl stones and leaden shot with greater impetus than any engines then in use, that a breast-plate and helmet and even stone walls were no protection against this deadly stuff. and the sentry pacing the ramparts on his lonely post at night would ruminate upon this matter, and wonder what power of evil could let loose a force capable of destroying both the stout walls under him and that fair marble gleaming white in the light of the moon. probably with the simple faith of his time he laid the whole matter at the door of satan himself, and his chosen agents--the workers of black magic--and no doubt glanced fearfully out to sea and crossed himself piously when he realized how much influence these unpleasant people still possessed even in a christian world which caused them to be burned on the barest suspicion of such malpractices. moon and stars and the plashing waves are now the only guardians of these walls. chapter vi the golden gate a small, deep-arched postern leads our travellers out of the precincts of the ruins that surround the marble tower. the masonry above the postern bears inscriptions dating back to the days when several emperors reigned together. basil ii and constantine ix, who have been already mentioned in connection with the palace of justinian, left records of their reign upon this section of the walls. the postern leads us outside the city walls, and as we turn for a last glance at the marble tower and the wonderful view it commands, we notice a strange byzantine device carved on its keystone. a narrow tongue of land runs out into the sea just here, and under its lee the cargo of several small sailing craft is being leisurely brought ashore, for staring us in the face is commercial enterprise and all it entails in the shape of a tannery. here in former days was open country which many a time had witnessed thrilling scenes. for at this small harbour [illustration: postern, with inscriptions of basil ii. and constantine ix. a small, deep-arched postern leads out of the precincts of the ruins that surround the marble tower.] the hero of a victorious campaign in asia minor was wont to land, and with him his troops. spoils taken in the war were stacked and hapless prisoners paraded to follow in procession through the golden gate at the conqueror's chariot wheels. from this harbour the turkish fleet of 305 vessels attempted to cut off the five gallant ships that brought provisions from the island of scio to the city during the last siege; these managed to force their way to the golden horn. the sentry on the ramparts over the postern we have left behind us, looking over this rolling plain, would see the glittering domes and pinnacles of yet another lordly place away on the curving sea-coast--the palace of the hebdomon. this, it appears, served as a rustic retreat for the emperors of the east. important functions took place there, for here valens was inaugurated as colleague of his brother, the emperor valentine, and proclaimed augustus. and others followed him, such as arcadius and honorius, raised to imperial rank by theodosius the great, leo the great and leo the armenian, and he with whose fate we became familiar when talking of theophane, nicephorus ii phocas. but we will hasten away from that malodorous evidence of progress, the tannery, for we are strongly drawn towards those towering ruins gleaming through the dark cypresses. we cross the railway-line and note where it has cut a path through the ancient defences of byzantium. climbing a bank, we reach a little turkish cemetery, its weird and tumbling tombstones shaded by those solemn, watchful cypress-trees. now look towards the walls: between us and them is a deep fosse, where fig-trees grow and throw out their twisted branches as if to protect these ancient ramparts from crumbling further to decay. ivy in dense dark masses clings to the crenulated scarp, and beyond that a broad roadway, all neglected, rises in gentle gradient till it turns sharply towards an archway, guarded on either hand by massive towers built of blocks of polished marble. this is the golden gate, the "porta aurea" of so many glorious moments in the life of constantine's great city. here the procession that had formed on the plain down by the harbour made its triumphal entry, and worthy was this monument in those days to serve as frame to a conquering augustus. walls and towers were crowned with parapets, over which glittered the glint of armour and the flashing light of spear-heads. the gates, too, were all on fire with the precious metal from which its name comes, though it now lives [illustration: the golden gate, from south-west.] this is the golden gate, the "porta aurea" of so many glorious moments in the life of constantine's great city.] only in memory. statues and sculptured ornaments added to the splendour of which the only traces now to be seen are some remains of marble cornices, and, at the south-western angle of the northern tower, a roman eagle with wings outspread in solitary grandeur. the golden gate had three archways, of which the central one was loftier and wider, like those more familiar to us in the roman forum. these were dedicated to severus and constantine respectively, and the gilded gates of these three arches were those of mompseueste, placed here by nicephorus phocas to commemorate his victorious campaign in cilicia. of all the many works of art that went to decorate the golden gate no traces but those just mentioned can be found; but there are records of them, and some are strange reading--for instance, the transactions between an english ambassador to the porte from 1621-28, sir thomas rowe and the "great treasurer." good sir thomas, it appears, had mentioned in his dispatches that two bas-reliefs which figured here were really well worthy of note. this led to another english gentleman, a mr. petty, being sent to constantinople to see to the removal of these treasures to the earl of arundel, who sought to share them with the duke of buckingham. much english gold changed hands and found its way into the hungry pockets of the great treasurer, who, like all other turkish high officials before and since, had frequent and pressing need of money, and was not plagued with petty scruples as to the means employed to obtain it. the bargain was completed and all arrangements made, but at the last moment, when it came to removing these marbles, the populace, under the castellan of the castle, rose in mutiny. the precious life of the great treasurer was in danger, and as he had probably pouched the money by that time, he discovered it to be quite impossible to carry out his part of the contract, at least for the present; and stout sir thomas reported to head-quarters in these words, "so i despair to effect therein your grace's service, and it is true, though i could not get the stones, yet i allmost raised an insurrection in that part of the cytty." we are standing now before the ruined remains of this, the culminating point of many a page of glorious achievement in the history of the eastern capital. but let us now regard it with the eye of retrospection; let the past ages envelop the broken, ivy-covered monument and restore it to us in its pristine glory, for we, too, would take part in the splendid pageant that once animated this now-deserted stronghold. so we go back into the depth of time from which perchance we issued. the fourth century of the christian era is big with the names of those who stamped themselves upon their time for good or evil, and thus the capital of the eastern empire owes its second birth to one whose glorious name is writ large upon the scroll of fame--to constantine the great. second only to constantine in this succession of rulers of the eastern empire comes theodosius i, also called great, and rightly so, for constantinople owes to him a debt almost as great as to the second founder of the imperial city. constantine gave to this city a new lease of life, and theodosius insured it against capture by assault for many centuries; for all those strong defences, the remains of which, some broken beyond recognition, others practically intact, extend from the golden gate to the golden horn, are a lasting monument to the theodosian dynasty. this golden gate itself is said to have been erected by theodosius to celebrate his victory over a formidable rival; and to enter fully into sympathy with the great incidents this monument has witnessed, let us take note of the events that led theodosius both to the imperial purple and the towering place he holds in the history of the world. the final separation into east and west of rome's imperial power had not yet taken place, and gratian was emperor. the latter years of his reign were hard and full of troubles. northern barbarians ravaged the provinces of rome at their will, and none seemed capable of checking their savage onslaughts. the legions of the roman army had time after time failed of their old tradition, and had so often been vanquished that they held their foes to be invincible. fiercest of all these fierce foemen were the goths, and it was they who caused the most distress. valens had fallen in the battle of hadrianople, and with him two-thirds of the roman army; the rest had barely effected their escape under cover of night. the roman empire was in sore straits; the goths were flushed with their victory, and likely to take advantage of it. five months after the death of valens the emperor gratian did a deed perhaps unparalleled. he sent for theodosius, presented him to the troops, who acclaimed him as augustus, and invested him with the imperial purple. the strangeness of this act lies in the history that precedes it. theodosius the elder, father of the new emperor, had but three years before been put to death unjustly and with ignominy by gratian's orders, and his son banished. so gratian's messengers found theodosius managing his estates in spain. they gave him their message, and forthwith the emperor-elect proceeded to his new duties imposed on him by one whose keen discernment found the right man in the time of need, and whose sense of right had sought the way towards redeeming a terrible injustice. theodosius was thirty-three years of age when he ascended the throne of the eastern division of the roman empire. in grace and manly beauty, in his qualities of heart and intellect, contemporaries held him to outshine trajan. like other military heroes--alexander, hannibal and the second africanus--he had been trained young in the profession of arms under the stern discipline of his own father. even at this early age he had gained renown for valour in the field, where his experiences had been many and varied. he had fought against the scots in their inclement climate, had heard the war-cry of the saxons echoing among the primeval forests of germany, and faced the moors under the fierce power of southern suns. he was now called upon to meet rome's most dreaded foes, those mighty goths, who, as their king said, drove the roman legions like sheep before them. theodosius showed no impetuous haste to gain new laurels for his own adornment. rather, he bided his time, placed his troops cunningly, and kept himself so well informed that whenever an opportunity offered of attacking a small force of the enemy in superior numbers, or from some vantage ground, he would seize it, and always proved successful. thus he restored the confidence of his troops, who now no longer believed the goths to be invincible. in this manner theodosius had already earned his title as great as a firm and faithful servant of the republic. his statecraft helped him further in his plans for the welfare of the empire, of which a considerable portion was now under his control, for dacia and macedonia were added to the eastern empire, which consisted then of thrace, asia and egypt. the death of fritigern, who had held together the barbarian alliance of eastern and western goths, huns and alani, was another factor which theodosius knew well how to take into account. once the bonds of the alliance loosened, and the different parties to it went different ways, the jealousy of ostrogoths and visigoths revived, and made it possible to win the services of one or other discontented leader. the aged athanaric collected many of fritigern's subjects round him, and with them listened to a fair proposal of an honourable and advantageous treaty. theodosius met him outside the city walls, invited him to enter, and here entertained him with the confidence of a friend and the magnificence of a monarch. athanaric marvelled at all the wondrous things he saw, and, according to the chronicler jornandes, exclaimed, "indeed, the emperor of the romans is a god upon earth; and the presumptuous man who dares to lift his hand against him is guilty of his own blood." the gothic king did not live long to enjoy the friendship of theodosius, though his death was probably of greater advantage to the emperor than his alliance might have proved to be. athanaric was buried with all proper ceremony, a monument was erected to his memory, and his whole army enlisted under the standard of the roman empire. in consequence of the submission of so great a body as the visigoths, other independent chieftains followed, and four years had barely elapsed since the defeat and death of valens when the final and complete capitulation of the goths was an accomplished fact. the ostrogoths, however, went their own way. they left the banks of the danube to visit other countries, where, having made themselves extremely unpopular, they returned after many years to their former haunts, reinforced by many of the fiercest warriors of germany and scythia. theodosius, by skilful tactics, brought about their destruction. his spies had spread among the goths a rumour that the roman camp could, on a certain night, be easily taken by surprise. one moonless night the whole multitude of goths hastily embarked in 3000 dug-outs, and set out to reach the southern bank of the river, certain of finding an easy landing and assailing an unguarded camp. but they found an insuperable obstacle in a triple line of vessels strongly bound one to another; and while they yet struggled to find a way out of this difficulty, a fleet of galleys bore down the stream upon them, vigorous rowing giving them irresistible impetus. the valour of the barbarians was all in vain; alatheus their king perished in the fray, together with the flower of his army, either by the swords of the romans or in the waters of the danube. those who escaped surrendered and became roman subjects. the goths soon settled in the empire, the visigoths in thrace, the remnant of the ostrogoths in phrygia and lydia, while many took service under the roman eagles. they were allowed to retain their own free government, but the royal dignity was abolished, and their kings and chieftains ranked as generals, to be appointed and removed at the royal pleasure. under the name of foederati 40,000 goths were maintained for the perpetual service of the east; they were distinguished by their golden collars, liberal pay, and licentious privileges. so here we find the walls of constantinople guarded by its former enemies, while the population lose more and more of the military spirit of ancient rome. no love was lost, we fancy, between the citizens of old byzantium and these haughty barbarians. indeed, one old chronicler relates how the city was deprived for half a day of the public allowance of bread, to expiate the murder of a gothic soldier. there is no record of how many greek citizens a barbarian guardsman was allowed to murder if he thought fit to do so; probably statistics would be striking. no doubt the idea was that a fine blend of races might thus be induced, an idea that has occurred to other conquerors and has not always proved successful. so in this case: the goths, it was supposed, would acquire habits of industry and obedience, while christianity and education smoothed over the very apparent roughness of their disposition. though gratitude is a virtue that is generally attributed to barbarians and denied to highly civilized races, the goths made no signal display of it, and from time to time deserted in large bodies to make the neighbouring provinces unhappy. thus on one occasion, when their services were particularly required in a civil war against maximus, the goths considered that the time had come for a little private entertainment. they therefore retired to the morasses of macedonia, and indulged in a course of quite unnecessary outrage. it required the presence of the emperor himself to persuade them to return to their allegiance. some attributed these alarums and excursions to the sudden rise of the barbaric passion, to which a strong, undisciplined race is always prone. but others maintain that there was much method in their madness, and that these outbursts were the result of deep and long-premeditated design, for it was generally believed that when the goths had signed the treaty binding them to peace and service, they had previously sworn never to keep faith with romans, and to neglect no opportunity favourable to revenge. the second opinion seems to have been formed on quite sufficient grounds, and one occurrence tends to prove it. two factions there were among the goths: the one led by fravitta, a valiant, honourable youth, considered itself friendly to peace, to justice, and to the interests of rome; the other and more numerous faction asserted its independence under a fierce and passionate leader--priulf. on one occasion, when a solemn festival had gathered all the great officers of state together, priulf and fravitta, having according to the custom of their race duly overheated themselves with wine, forgot the usual restraints of discretion and respect, and betrayed in the presence of theodosius the secrets of their domestic disputes. the meeting ended in tumult. theodosius was compelled to dismiss his guests. fravitta, exasperated by his rival's insolence, followed him, drew his sword and slew him. priulfs companions flew to arms, and in their superior numbers would have overcome fravitta and his followers had not the imperial guard stepped in to save him. now author and artist are at variance in their views of the incident just related. the author looks upon the subject from a lofty pedestal built of historic facts, and has just given this account of an abrupt and unpleasant ending to a dinner-party in order to shake his head reprovingly over the want of self-control exhibited by the invited gothic guests. he would also point to the degeneracy of the roman empire, when such scenes could be enacted in the presence of the emperor. what was the lord high guest-inviter about to ask fravitta and priulf to meet? he should have known that they would quarrel in their cups, and have sent out his separate invitations for two repasts, though perhaps for consecutive evenings. and the lord high bottle-washer? surely one in his exalted station should have recognized from long experience the first symptoms, and substituted something less stimulating than the blood of the grape on the third or fourth circuit of the decanter. for surely concoctions equally tasty and considerably under proof must have been known to "the trade" in those ages of gastronomic culture. however, matters turned out as recorded, and the artist revels in the episode. the church's solemn feast had been duly observed that morning; no doubt the goths had taken part in church parade, and had, as usual, failed to be sufficiently impressed with the solemnity of the occasion. then all the great ones proceeded to the palace, and, already chafing at the length of the sermon, grew yet more impatient at the delay of dinner while waiting in some ante-room. the emperor theodosius augustus enters, and a stir goes through the assembly. a kind word here and there in latin, greek, or some barbaric tongue as the kind-hearted emperor recognizes a familiar face, and then into the banqueting-hall--a lofty, spacious apartment, with arched windows looking out to sea. as to the fare--the artist is no expert, but would suggest that the festive board groaned, like all boards do on such occasions, beneath a quite superfluous amount of all the food-stuffs then available. no doubt at first the strict decorum of a court was carefully observed, and the weather or the latest scandal discussed in a duly christian spirit; but after a while a louder laugh would strike a stronger, healthier note in the clangour of the table-talk, till all of a sudden angry voices rose and all the courtiers stared aghast at two barbarians gloriously drunk and quarrelling across the very presence of augustus. the sequel, too, seems quite appropriate to the artist, and he can silence criticism by pointing back but one short century in the life of his own beloved country. mention was made of maximus just now, and it was he who gave to the porta aurea its origin--for had he not risen as rival against the power of rome theodosius would not have taken the field, vanquished him and erected this triumphal arch in memory of his victory. and, indirectly again, this arch owes its origin to britain, for there it was that the trouble first arose like a small cloud over the western seas. a native of spain, a fellow-countryman of theodosius and his rival as a soldier, maximus won golden opinions from the garrison of britain, the province he was called upon to govern. the legions stationed in britain had already earned the reputation of being the most arrogant and presumptuous of all the roman forces; the country itself, by its isolation, fostered the spirit of revolt and justified the image bossuet, whom we imagine smarting from his latest channel crossing, gives: "cette isle, plus orageuse que les mers qui environnent." so maximus rose as rival to the throne, and some say that against his better judgment he was compelled to accept the purple. the youth of britain crowded to his standard, and he invaded gaul with a naval and military force that could be likened to an emigration. gratian, in his residence at paris, became alarmed at this hostile approach, and found himself deserted when he tried to rally his forces, for the armies of gaul received maximus with joyful acclamations. the emperor of the west was forced to flee, for even those troops whose stations attached them immediately to his person deserted to the enemy. so maximus pursued his triumphant way, leaving britons behind him as colonists in bretagne, where it is said that their descendants endure to this day. a romantic legend attaches to this tale of conquest. the whole emigration from britain consisted of 30,000 soldiers and 100,000 plebeians, who settled in bretagne. in a spirit of rare patriotism the brides of these settlers left england under special convoy of st. ursula, 11,000 noble and 60,000 plebeian maidens, but they mistook their way. they eventually landed at cologne, and there were cruelly slain by huns. a window in cologne cathedral commemorates this martyrdom, so all doubts on the subject are dispelled for ever. theodosius was unable, for reasons of state, to avenge the murder of his benefactor gratian, but as time went on the rivalry between him and maximus became intolerable. one or the other had to make way, and it was maximus who succumbed. then it was that this triumphal arch, this porta aurea, came to be erected, to stand as a perpetual monument to one who ranks with constantine the great in the romantic history of constantinople. nearly three centuries later another emperor, heraclius, entered in triumph through this gateway, on his return from the persian wars. one hundred years later constantine copronymus followed through these golden arches, after defeating the bulgarians. then came theophilus in the middle of the ninth century, to celebrate his hard-won victories over the saracens. basil i, the macedonian, followed, and of his first acquaintance with the golden gate mention will be made hereafter. then basil ii of that name, called bulgaroktonos, for he wreaked savage vengeance on the bulgarians who had dared to disturb his peace. a weird, romantic figure this of basil, we have had a glimpse of him when telling of those dark influences that coloured his earliest days. those days in the palace of justinian when theophane, his mother, worked wickedness, can have had but the worst effect on a character like his. learning and all the gentler arts and crafts he heartily despised, and cared for nothing but military glory. he first drew sword against two domestic enemies, phocas and sclerus, two veteran generals who rendered insecure his tenure of the purple. he subdued them both. then he turned against the saracens, proved successful, and as has been said already, vanquished the bulgarians. in spite of his achievements in the field basil did not gain the affection of his people. he was one of those mournful figures that flit from time to time across the pages of history. his only virtues were courage and patience, but they were counterbalanced by a tameless ferocity. a mind like his in such an age lends a ready ear to the dreariest superstition, and after the first licence of his youth, his life in the field and in the palace was devoted to the penance of a hermit. he wore the monastic habit under his robes or armour, and imposed upon himself vows of abstinence from all the lusts of the flesh. his martial spirit urged him to embark in person on a holy war against the saracens of sicily, but death prevented him. he was then in his sixty-eighth year, and left the world blessed by the priests but cursed by his people. another in this glittering pageant that passes through the golden gate in triumph is john zimisces the armenian, whom our travellers first saw in that dark night under the windows of justinian's palace. his life was spent almost entirely in the field, and he well deserved the triumph that awaited him on his return to constantinople after defeating both the saracens and russians. the last of all the emperors to whom triumphal entry through the golden gate was accorded was michael palæologus, in august 1261. it is not easy to discover why this honour should have been shown him, for he had achieved no renown in his endeavour to regain his own. no doubt the people gladly welcomed back one of the former race of rulers, not only because like most people they wanted a change, but because that change could not possibly be for the worse, inasmuch as they had suffered grievously for more than half-a-century under the rule imposed on them by the latins, and were willing to accept any possible alternative. baldwin, the last of the latin emperors, had fled, and michael palæologus entered constantinople only twenty days after the expulsion of the latins. the golden gate was thrown open on his approach, he dismounted, and on foot meekly followed the miraculous image of mary the conductress into the city as far as the cathedral of st. sophia. but michael's joy at entering the capital was marred by the sights that met his eye. whole streets had been consumed by fire, no signs of trade or industry were to be seen, and even his palace was in a state of desolation, grimy with smoke and dirt and stripped of every ornament. standing inside the enclosure we look up at the golden gate--the stones and brick that block up the three arches fade away, and in their place stand the gleaming gates that helped to give it its name. a surging mass of people moves excitedly around us pressing forward towards the entrance. a body of troops appears: big men, of fairer skins than those who form the crowd, clear with long-handled spears a roadway, thrusting aside with undisguised contempt the over-curious spectators. scowls and glances of resentment vanish as sounds of an approaching multitude, accompanied by martial music, are heard proceeding from the plain outside the gate. here they come! and already in a golden haze the pageant seems to move towards us. huns and alani, the light cavalry trained by theodosius, on wiry horses, shaggy, savage-looking men, they hurry on, followed by sturdy, heavy-treading infantry, stout warriors clad in skins of animals, with here and there a touch of finer stuff, betraying them not all unused to the refinements of the empire's capital. they surround him whom they are pleased to call master, the roman emperor. and then comes endless misery, unchronicled and long-forgotten--the captives taken in the wars. red-headed celts and fair-haired saxons, swarthy moors and saracens with desperate, flashing eyes. among the captives big-limbed slavs, and then more troops, some in the primitive costume of their native wilds, others in armour of all periods. thus passes this glorious array--emperors on horseback or in chariots, their guards and soldiery, captives and slaves both men and women, trophies and spoils of war. in these few minutes while we watch, the triumphs of seven centuries of empire rise up before us and fade away into that general oblivion which so few men survive, and even those often, as it seems, only by some chance or trick of fortune. thousands and tens of thousands have passed this way in their brief hour of victory, have made the heavens ring with their deeds, that lived a day or two in memory, and then have silently moved onwards into the place of forgotten things. the vision passes and leaves us but a name or two by which we may remember what greatness and glory have swept by. the gilded splendour of the gates is dimmed, the stones and bricks resume their place within the arches, and here before us stands that hoary ruin grey with age, lichen-covered and festooned with ivy, while rank weeds spring up round its foundation and flowering bushes form its ramparts--the triumphal arch of theodosius--the golden gate. [illustration: the approach to the golden gate from north west. here before us stands that hoary ruin, grey with age, lichen-covered and festooned with ivy--the triumphal arch of theodosius--the golden gate.] chapter vii the golden gate (_continued_) the golden gate was from time to time thrown open for other purposes than to admit a conqueror. persons of note who sought audience of the emperor have passed in through it, and their mission was in the service of another victor, they came in the name of him who overcame death. among these was pope constantine, who came to confer with that justinian ii whose acquaintance we made some chapters back. another emperor whose history is familiar to our travellers, basil ii, admitted the legate of pope hadrian into the city underneath the same portals. and yet another solemn procession moves in at the gates while we watch. no blare of trumpet, no martial sound of clashing arms, no steady, resolute footsteps, scurry of horses or the grinding noise of chariot wheels marks the progress of this host of shadows. it moves slowly, to the rhythm of a solemn chant that rises into a more rapturous cadence from time to time; moves through the crowds of kneeling figures with bared heads and eyes lowered to the ground that they may not see the glory of that which is passing, for is it not the sacred icon, the icon of christ brought from edessa to find sanctuary in the church of st. sophia? christianity owes much to the personality of the first eastern emperors to constantine, the first augustus to be baptized into that faith, and again to theodosius i, the ardent champion of the cross. until the reign of this great emperor the ancient faith of rome still lived on, both in that city and in the provinces. an altar to victory accompanied the roman legions in the field, the higher officers of state in many cases laid claim to the title of pontifex and presided over the old religious rites while the majority of the roman senate still adhered to the polytheistic tenets of the old faith. the emperor gratian, fired by the zeal of ambrose, banished once and for all the altar of victory from the roman senate. this led to a heated controversy, which was decided by theodosius. returning to rome "with all his blushing honours thick upon him," the emperor proposed at a full meeting of the senate the momentous question: shall the worship of jupiter or that of christ be the religion of the romans? in the roman republic of those days it was not expedient to gainsay a victorious emperor, so by a majority of the senate jupiter was condemned and degraded. thus when we witnessed the triumphal entry of theodosius the great into constantinople by the golden gate, the gods of ancient rome, unseen by us, were fastened to his chariot wheels. theodosius was first of all a soldier, and though born of christian parents he did not embrace the faith until towards the end of the first year of his reign, when a severe illness carried conviction to the imperial heart. he received the sacrament of baptism before he again took the field against the goths, at the hands of acholius, the orthodox bishop of thessalonica. once convinced of the beauty of the faith, and sure of the unfailing aid the church affords, theodosius acted as a soldier and a convert usually does. no room for the doubts and fears of others, he had found the sure haven of his soul, and all his people must needs be categorically instructed in the right way. on ascending from the holy font he issued an edict which must be given word for word. "it is our pleasure that all the nations which are governed by our clemency and moderation should steadfastly adhere to the religion which was taught by st. peter to the romans, which faithful tradition has preserved; and which is now professed by the pontiff damarcus and by peter, bishop of alexandria, a man of apostolic holiness. according to the discipline of the apostles and the doctrine of the gospel, let us believe the sole deity of the father, the son and the holy ghost, under an equal majesty and a pious trinity. we authorize the followers of this doctrine to assume the title of catholic christians, and as we judge that all others are extravagant madmen, we brand them with the infamous name of heretics, and declare that their conventicles shall no longer usurp the respectable appellation of churches. besides the condemnation of divine justice, they must expect to suffer the severe penalties, which our authority, guided by heavenly wisdom, shall think proper to inflict upon them." so we find little room in byzantium for the nonconformist conscience, or, indeed, for any other save that of the ruler himself. like a soldier theodosius adhered to his opinions, and all argument from other sides failed to impress him. once only was he found to show the slightest inclination to listen to another version of the christian creed. he expressed a wish to converse with the pious and learned eunomius, who lived a retired life near constantinople. the prayers of the empress flaccilla prevented this dangerous and mistaken attempt even to understand the position of others, and further confirmation in his orthodoxy came about in a dramatic manner. theodosius and his son arcadius, upon whom the title of augustus had lately been bestowed, were seated side by side upon a stately throne to receive the homage of their subjects. amphilochius, bishop of iconium, approached the throne and rendered due homage to theodosius. he then turned and addressed arcadius in the patronizing tones some dignitaries of the church still use towards plebeian children. this insolent behaviour provoked the monarch, and he gave orders to eject the priest. while the guards were executing them, the bishop turned in the doorway and exclaimed in a loud voice, "such is the treatment, o emperor! which the king of heaven has prepared for those impious men who affect to worship the father but refuse to acknowledge the equal majesty of his divine son." this convincing logic failed not of its effect, the orthodoxy of theodosius was safe against all further argument, and in no other case was he tempted into the uncertain and unsettling paths of philosophical speculation. in matters religious constantinople may perhaps be said to lead the controversial way. it was for forty years, from 340 to 380, the centre of arianism, and is said to have admitted all manner of strange doctrines from every province of the empire--as was to be expected among a population more prone to disputations than to serious thought or that activity which takes religion as a staff to guide its daily task and not as a subject for polemic exercise. let us return to a haunt familiar to the reader--the atrium, down by the sea of marmora, and listen, without venturing an opinion, to what the men of the fourth century had to say upon an all-important subject. they were, or the majority of them would probably profess to be, arians, and for many reasons, not alone dogmatic, would have closed their ears to the echoes that came to them of a purer doctrine taught at rome and alexandria. yet they must have felt some apprehensions, for among them in their own city blossomed that rarest of all fair flowers, a perfect friendship between two men of the same way of thinking. basil and gregory, both natives of cappadocia, were of one heart and mind in their endeavours at reform. they had pursued their studies together at athens, together had retired into the solitude of the desert of pontus, and together they set out upon their mission to constantinople. truly a lovely sight, and altogether beautiful, this friendship of two earnest men. no doubt the heads of those that walked the atrium of justinian the great wagged as they reflected that there must be great goodness in a right so blessed. but a cold vapour passed over this entrancing vision--basil was exalted to the archiepiscopal throne of cæsarea, and by way of favour to his friend selected him as bishop of sasima, of all the fifty bishoprics in his extensive province, the most desolate--sans water, sans verdure, sans everything that one could wish a friend. some years later gregory returned to constantinople to try for further preferment, and in the meantime started a tabernacle of his own, and after much adversity attained his object when theodosius entered the city at the close of a successful campaign in november 380. gregory had gained many adherents, and was eventually elevated to the eastern see by the orthodox emperor. in spite of the unyielding orthodoxy which theodosius knew how to enforce, the arians did not acquiesce without a protest, and gregory confessed pathetically that on the day of his installation the capital of the east wore the appearance of a city taken by storm at the hands of a barbarian conqueror. no doubt the polemics that raged around the question of the trinity exasperated the soldier theodosius, he therefore determined to have the matter settled definitely, and to that end convened a synod of one hundred and fifty bishops to complete the theological system established in the council of nicæa. no doubt this council arrived at some conclusion that satisfied the emperor, so that at least one man's mind was set at rest on a vexed question. many different christian sects had sprung up before theodosius began to issue edicts, and that many of them returned to obscurity is a reason for profound gratitude, for the world has on more than one occasion proved too small for rival creeds. still it is sad to reflect that the office of inquisitor in matters of religion was first instituted by one of the greatest of the eastern emperors. no doubt theodosius was convinced that he had said the last word on religious controversy, that being very sure himself his people would be equally so. this, however, turned out to be rather too hopeful a view of the matter, for synods, conferences and councils followed one after another, leading to endless controversy and to no more gratifying result than a more marked divergence of opinions. behind these walls of constantinople the religious life of the people showed uncommon vigour, though it may be doubted whether the general effect was one of holiness. strong men appear upon the scene and take an active part provoking strong passions much at variance with the peaceful precepts of the christian creed, though quite in keeping with the prophecy of him who asserted that he came to bring "not peace but a sword." out of this chaos of ideas and ideals rises one form after another, to stand out before his contemporaries in bolder outline than historical perspective warrants. of these one may be singled out as truly great, though it is perhaps due to his personality more than to the enduring good he did that he appeals to readers of the present day. he came from antioch with a great reputation as a preacher, so great that people called him the golden mouth--st. john chrysostom. his induction to the eastern see was carried into effect by somewhat unusual means. eutropius, the prime minister of arcadius the young emperor, had heard and admired the sermons of john chrysostom when on a journey in the east. fearing that the faithful of antioch might be unwilling to resign their favourite preacher, the minister sent a private order to the governor of syria, and the divine was transported with great speed and secrecy to constantinople. the new archbishop did not fail to make his influence felt at once, and his sermons gave rise to factions, some in his favour, some against him, all united to make the most of an excuse for religious controversy. as has often happened since, though on a less magnificent scale, the ladies of the parish took very ardent interest in the dispute. some there were who approved of all he said and did, others violently condemned him and all his works. these ladies were for the most part of mature age, and therefore well qualified to judge, and many of them were extremely wealthy, which of course gave weight to their opinions. chrysostom was of choleric temperament and unsocial habits, the first led him to express disapproval in scarcely measured terms, the second prevented him from finding out what was going forward in those places where he had been insisting on reform. so it came about that an ecclesiastical conspiracy formed against him was all unknown to him until he found that one theophilus, archbishop of alexandria, had arrived by invitation of the empress, together with a number of independent bishops, to secure a majority at the synod. theophilus had taken the further precaution of bringing with him a strong escort of egyptian mariners to serve as practical warriors in the church militant and keep the refractory populace in order. the synod brought various charges against chrysostom, who refused to attend the meetings, so in default this august body condemned the archbishop for contumacious disobedience and sentenced him to be deposed. chrysostom was hurried out of the city to a place of banishment near the entrance of the black sea, but before two days had passed he was recalled, his faithful flock rose with unanimous and irresistible fury, the promiscuous crowd of monks and egyptian mariners were slaughtered without mercy in the streets of the city, the waves of sedition roared and seethed round the palace gates, and an earthquake came just in time to be interpreted as the voice of heaven, so the empress eudoxia had to implore arcadius to reinstate the favourite preacher. chrysostom returned in triumph down the bosphorus and into the golden horn, through lanes of shipping that vied with the houses ashore in the splendour of their illuminations. from the landing-stage to the cathedral thousands of his faithful flock escorted him with frenzied exclamations. but st. john (the golden mouth) was no courtier, he pursued his course with increased zeal. his sermons made him yet more popular with the masses, and proved yet more distasteful to the court, until one directed in bitterest vein against the empress proved his temporal undoing for a second time. again he was banished, and this time to the distant ridges of mount taurus. he spent three years of great activity in this retreat, carrying on a correspondence with the most distant provinces of the empire. his enemies, however, were not yet satisfied, and brought about his removal to the desert of pityas, but on the way thither in his sixtieth year st. john chrysostom died. thirty years after, in january 438, the remains of this zealous, high-spirited priest were transported from their obscure sepulchre to the royal city. theodosius ii advanced as far as chalcedon to meet them, and falling prostrate on the coffin implored in the name of his guilty parents, arcadius and eudoxia, the forgiveness of the injured saint. the efforts of st. john chrysostom proved effective during his lifetime alone. after his death the religious cohesion of a large empire, composed of so many races, each with its own peculiar temperament fell away and the divergence of opinion on matters of dogma became more and more accentuated. a peculiar instance of this is afforded by the armenian church, and the author apologizes to his fellow-travellers for having omitted to point out the unpretentious cathedral of that community when visiting the walls by the sea of marmora. the armenians took up the christian faith in a most generous spirit during the reign of constantine. the many invasions their country suffered under, the constant disorders that occurred there, as well as the fact that their clergy were generally ignorant of the greek tongue, all tended to separate them from their fellow-believers in europe. they clung to their doctrine that the manhood of christ was created of a divine and incorruptible substance, and therefore scouted the notion that imputed to the godhead the infirmities of the flesh. their priests were unable to assist at the council of chalcedon, owing to the linguistic difficulty referred to, so in time they became schismatics, their separation from other communities dating back as far as 552. for reasons which it is not well to enter into, the armenians have not always enjoyed the toleration shown to other creeds by the moslem conquerors of the eastern empire--gruesome tales have reached the ears of europe from time to time, and the less said on this subject the better, for the enlightened powers that now rule over the destinies of the eastern empire give ample assurance that those dark days of persecution are past. where christianity has gained hold over the minds of men, it not only influences their thoughts and actions more than any other motive power, but it has the result, perhaps quite contrary to the intentions of its founder, of crystallizing the national characteristics of the different races that become subject to its influence. this leads to a definite expression of national sentiments, aims and ambitions, and so it happened when christianity was in the full vigour of youth. those communities whose life was lived under a southern sun, in lands where tradition and history receded into the dim vistas that hide the origin of all things, lands like syria and egypt drifted into a spiritual nirvana of lazy and contemplative devotion. no wonder then that the fierce onrush of those who were inflamed by mahomed's fighting creed met with no resistance, and islam is now the faith of those lands of ruin and golden sand. the western nations took to the new creed without any loss of the fighting qualities of their race; and in fact the preaching of the new religion seems to have had but little effect upon their methods of expressing their convictions on any subject, and equally little power to check ambition. so the western church was forced to adopt the strenuous method of the people under its spiritual sway, aided therein by the strain of stronger northern races that had revived the moribund communities in the immediate neighbourhood of rome. then the direction taken by the western church led to absolute power over the bodies and souls of men. the superstitions grafted on the doctrines of the church to enhance the power of its ministers proved a weapon of irresistible force in the hands of an unscrupulous and ambitious pontiff. the warrior kings of warlike nations quailed before the power of the head of western christendom, and one of germany's haughty emperors crept barefooted through the snow to canossa, there to implore the pontiff's pardon. this ambition has fired the western church through all these ages that saw the gradual development of europe, has led to many and most bloody wars, occasioned revolting crimes, and still acts as an incentive to the "kultur kampf," against which even bismarck, the iron chancellor, did not battle with unqualified success. as may be supposed, the ambitious strivings of the roman see were not directed only against the western nations whom christendom had reached mainly through its agents. it cast longing glances at the eastern capital. the greeks, however, took their religion in yet another form, approached it in yet another spirit. at constantinople the emperor and the patriarch lived side by side, and were busily engaged in checking each other's authority, or offering a united front against roman interference. no attempt seems to have been made on the part of any archbishop of the eastern capital to arrogate to himself temporal power. it was politically impossible, so long as successors to the throne of cæsar were to be found among victorious generals, whenever the scions of the imperial family showed signs of weakness. again the genius of the greek expressed itself in a different sense. the roman church laid down its dogmata, and no one was found to cavil at them, or those that did, until luther's time, met with a short shrift and a blazing pyre. the populace of the eastern empire, and more expressly of constantinople, knew none of this intellectual submission to ecclesiastical authority, and exercised their keen wits in disputations, subtle or extravagant, according to individual taste. vehement controversies raged constantly around the mysteries of the christian creed, and served at once to sharpen the intellect and obscure the purity of the faith. new sects were for ever springing up, some to be suppressed by edict of an emperor, or to prolong their precarious existence under persecution, others to die yet more surely of neglect. high and low entered into these contests, perhaps not always urged by the purest motives--the isaurian emperors condemned the use of icons, and theodora in sanguinary devotion restored them to the churches. paulicians, who abhorred all images, were introduced from the banks of the euphrates into constantinople and thrace by constantine, whom the worshippers of images surnamed copronymus, in the middle of the eighth century. they suffered much persecution from time to time; and again were encouraged and in fact reinforced by another emperor, john zimisces, who transported a large colony of them to the valleys of mount hæmus. under good treatment they became arrogant, and being doughty warriors resented the injuries they frequently received at the hands of the eastern clergy. they retired to their native land, and there were subject to renewed attacks by their christian brethren of the eastern fold, and by any armed and adventurous nation of a different faith who happened to pass that way. asia too has had experience of a religious war lasting thirty years and devastating many tracts of fair and fertile country, an example followed by europe nearly eight centuries later. thus the religious life of constantine's great city was not without intense excitement to those who lived within the walls. after the first eight centuries of the christian era, the interest somewhat abated, the degenerate population seemed to have lost its appetite for controversy. a definite separation from rome had not been brought about, though it may be supposed that the roman pontiff exercised little direct control over the religious destinies of the eastern empire. the recital of religious differences, of disputes concerning the mysteries of any faith make unpleasant reading at any time. but yet such matters have to be faced if we would restore some of the testimony of these silent witnesses, the ruined walls of constantinople. thus if we are to read the history their stones record, we cannot overlook the darker pages, the depth of shadows that offer such contrast to the brighter passages of the chronicles of this imperial city. the eastern and the western world were never really in accord on any subject--the bonds that united them were frail and might snap at the death of one strong man or the other, who like constantine had firm hold of the reins of government. but the western empire was no more, and owing to this and the disorders that ensued in consequence, the eastern empire gained in importance. it at least presented a united front to outward enemies, so when charlemagne restored the western roman empire, a rivalry of power seemed imminent--this marked the distance east and west had travelled on diverging roads and brought about a separation of the greek and latin churches. the intellectual pride of the greeks could not submit to any dictation on the subject of the christian doctrine from the see of rome; roman ambition would not allow outlying communities to formulate new doctrines or to revise old ones. in everything the adherents of the eastern and western churches found points of disagreement. it needed but a small pretext to bring about a schism, small at this period of time but great and momentous to those who struggled through the controversy. a pretext was not long wanting. about the middle of the ninth century photius, a layman, captain of the guards, was promoted by merit and favour to the office of patriarch of constantinople. in ecclesiastical science and in the purity of morals he was equally well qualified for his high office. but ignatius, his predecessor, who had abdicated, had still many obstinate supporters, and they appealed to pope nicholas i, one of the proudest and most ambitious of the roman pontiffs, who welcomed an opportunity of judging and condemning his rival of the east. the greek patriarch issued triumphant with the aid of the court, but fell with his patron, cæsar bardas, uncle of michael iii, whereupon basil the macedonian restored ignatius to his former dignity. photius emerged on the death of ignatius from the monastery which had sheltered him and was again restored to the dignity of the patriarchate, to be again and for ever deprived of office on the death of basil i. the roman see had interfered in favour of ignatius, and had become unpopular with all sections of greek orthodoxy in consequence. then followed the dark and hopeless days of the tenth century, without any attempt at reconciliation between the churches. nothing but unseemly recriminations ensued, till in 1054 the papal legates entered constantinople, having laid a bill of excommunication against the patriarch upon the altar of st. sophia, and shaking the dust from off their feet returned to rome. negotiations between the two churches continued at ever-increasing intervals, and the breach widened by the actions of both sides. when the western nations, fired by religious enthusiasm, pressed eastward in their thousands to attempt the rescue of the holy land, they met with faint support, and even covert opposition from the eastern emperors. and when the eastern empire was hard pressed by the old enemy of the cross, the pope refused his aid until urged thereto by one of his own spiritual vassals, and that, as we have seen, in vain. from time to time attempts were made at reconciliation, but whether they were sincere is hard to determine, and certainly does not come within the province of this book. suffice it to say, they failed, and now under the protection of crescent and star the orthodox greek church preserves the even tenor of her way. author and artist wonder whether perchance they should apologize for talking at length on a matter of such vital interest as the religious controversies between different schools of christian thought. they decide not to do so, for to give a fair account of all the history or of as much of it as one small volume may contain, the strong note that dominated the lives and motives of so many generations, all struggling upwards to the light, must sound above the universal and jarring discords. there is yet another feature of the religious life that had its day behind these sheltering walls, its monastic institutions. the author has views on the subject of political economy which he does not intend to inflict upon his fellow-travellers. of a truth this is neither a reasonable time nor an appropriate place for any such controversial matter. rather the author proposes to entrust his patient audience to the mercy of the artist, who has a tale to tell and may be some time in telling it. thus he leaves his collaborator to think out the next chapter, for much remains to be told. meanwhile the artist takes us back to those remote, romantic ages when christianity was young and even more capable than it is to-day of arousing fierce passions which led to what the cynics of other ages regard as mere extravagances. he tells of anthony, an illiterate youth who lived in thebais at the beginning of the fourth century. of how anthony distributed his patrimony, left his kith and kin and began his monastic penance among the tombs in a ruined tower by the banks of the nile. how anthony then wandered three days' journey into the desert to eastward of the nile and fixed his last residence in a lonely spot where he had found shade and water. from egypt, that land of mystery, this novel conception of a christian's duty spread over all the christian world. anthony's fame went far afield, many disciples followed him, and ere he died at the advanced age of 105 he was surrounded by many fellow-anchorites ready to follow in his footsteps. the people of the eastern empire took up the new idea with enthusiasm, and many monasteries were erected within the walls of old byzantium. one of them has already been mentioned, the monastery of st. george at the mangane near seraglio point, where for some time the emperor john cantacuzene took up his abode after his abdication. monasteries and convents were in fact almost invaluable to party politicians of the byzantine empire. emperors and empresses were conveyed to these places of retreat, with more or less of ceremony according to the judgment passed on their misdeeds, real or supposed, by the fickle populace. royal princes who might be tempted to usurp the throne were banished to convenient monasteries, and sometimes deprived of eyesight that they might realize the vanity of all things. victorious and ambitious generals found unsought rest and quietness in the cloister, even patriarchs have been known to vanish from sight into the "dim religious light" that was the material and spiritual attribute of those secluded haunts. those fairy islands we saw floating in the placid sea of marmora held many illustrious captives within the walls of its cloisters and convents. distant mount athos with its thousands of anchorites would from time to time welcome back a brother who had basked for a short time in the sunlight of an emperor's smile. but through all those ages of monastic life, in all the stories and legends of pious hermits and anchorites, the artist misses any one akin to his own admired friend--friar tuck. greek monks took frequent part in the disturbances that party politics provoked, but none was found to expound like him, his doctrine of christian socialism with the aid of a stout quarter-staff. and of the artistic side of monastic usefulness no trace remains, none of those beautifully executed illuminations that were the life-work of so many a skilful limner in the west. the storm that broke over constantinople swept all this away, and nothing is left but a faint record of the site of some ancient hermitage. thus on our way to the marble tower and not far from where we stand stood a monastery dedicated to st. diomed, and hereby hangs a tale full as romantic as any yet recorded. one evening in the middle of the ninth century a youth, strong and active, but weary and travel-stained, approached the golden gate from over the heights beyond the walls. he entered the city, but not by the golden gate that we are now so well acquainted with, he went round a little to the north, where there is another opening in the walls, a sort of "tradesmen's entrance," for to none but emperors or visitors of the highest rank was the golden gate thrown open. the wanderer was none of these, so by the failing light he entered what is now yedi koulé kapoussi. he had neither friends nor money, so tired out lay down to sleep on the steps of the church of st. diomed. a kindly monk extended the hospitality of the monastery to him, and so refreshed he went his way in search of fortune. his good luck took him to a cousin, a namesake of the emperor theophilus, and in his patron's train he went to the peloponnese. his personal merit brought him advancement, and fortune [illustration: yedi koulé kapoussi, or gate of the seven towers. one evening in the middle of the ninth century, a youth entered the city, but not by the golden gate, for to none but emperors or visitors of the highest rank was the golden gate thrown open--he entered what is now yedi koulé kapoussi.] favoured him again in making him acquainted with a wealthy widow, danielis, who adopted him as her son. this youth was basil i--the founder of the macedonian dynasty, whom we saw in that proud pageant of victorious emperors passing under the porta aurea. the monks of st. diomed had no occasion to repent their hospitality to the stranger, for basil found many ways of proving his gratitude towards his former hosts. chapter viii the walls of theodosius to the gate of st. romanus having escaped from the hands of the artist, the travellers fall into the clutches of the author, who insists on showing them the golden gate from both sides as it really is to-day. for that purpose we enter by a gateway a little to the north of the porta aurea. this is called yedi koulé kapoussi, or the "gate of the seven towers," and stands where stood formerly a byzantine gate through which basil entered the city. as we may infer from its name, the present gate is of turkish origin, as are also the strong towers that rise up on our right. bearing southwards, we come to an entrance in that section of the wall which faces east. we enter and stand, in fact, where we had stood in imagination watching the triumphant pageants of former ages defiling past us. we may enter one of the strong towers, the shape of which is familiar to all who have visited roumeli hissar, and thus we know it to be of turkish construction. a winding staircase [illustration: part of turkish fortress of yedi koulé. we may enter one of the strong towers, the shape of which is familiar to all who have visited roumeli hissar, and thus we know it to be of turkish construction.] leads us to the rampart; through a bend in the wall we may look down into the interior of the tower, where erstwhile spacious vaulted chambers held the garrison while captives pined in the dungeons below. the romantic tales that cling to all dungeons are not wanting here, for beneath this spot even ambassadors are said to have languished, though probably not for any length of time, for the person of such high representatives of foreign potentates partake in some degree of their master's lustre and may not be lightly treated. nevertheless, the venetian ambassador was once arrested by achmet iii, when he and charles xii, the most picturesque figure of the beginning of the eighteenth century, were allied against russia, and venetian possessions in morea barred the path of further turkish conquests. as we walk along the top of the ramparts we see how strong these ruined walls still remain, and how much greater their strength must have been when rebuilt in 1457 a.d. by mahomet the conqueror. and before mahomet's day this citadel's history was a record of stout resistance to the city's enemies, for it long defied the onslaught of the turks, who rebuilt it when the city fell into their hands. the sultan had planted a cannon before this stronghold, and tried its strength with other engines of war, but manuel of liguria and his two hundred men held out until the end. a pathetic figure appeared in 1347, john cantacuzene, who, though a loyal guardian to his young imperial master, was driven into civil war by court intrigues. his followers admitted him into this stronghold before he retired to monastic seclusion. he had some difficulty in persuading his partisans, the latin garrison, to surrender to john palæologus. this emperor then thought fit to weaken the defences of this citadel, but luckily left it strong enough to protect himself from the attacks of his rebellious son andronicus. good reason for strengthening the fort occurred when bajazet roamed at large in europe, and john palæologus set about doing so. the sultan, hearing of it, sent an order that those new defences should be at once pulled down again, and that non-compliance would mean the loss of eyesight to manuel, heir to the throne and at that time hostage in the turkish camp. standing on the ramparts of this ancient stronghold it is difficult to realize the old days of stress and storm. in the clear air and sunshine life seems too serene for the fierce passions that drove a swarm of saracens in repeated attacks against the grey walls. these fiery followers of the prophet came up from the south over that limpid sea. yet in the seventh century, forty-six years after the flight of mahomed from mecca, it was alive with the lateen sails of the swarthy marauders. caliph moawiyah had no sooner resumed the throne by suppressing his rivals than he decided to wipe away the bloodstains of civil strife by a holy war. a holy war, if it is to attain to the fullest perfection of sanctity, should also be profitable, and no richer prize offered than constantinople. the arabs, since they had issued from the desert, had found victory rapid and easy of achievement; so, having carried their triumphant ensign to the banks of the indus and the heights of the pyrenees, they had some reason to consider themselves invincible. not only was the capital of the eastern empire the richest prize, but its conquest seemed to present no great difficulties, as an unworthy emperor loosely held the reins of government at this time. heraclius had entered the golden gate in triumph after defeating the persians. constantine, his grandson, third of that name, was called upon to defend it against the saracens. these fierce warriors were allowed to pass unchallenged through the narrow channel of the dardanelles, where they might at least have been checked, and landed near the hebdomon. day by day, from dawn till sunset, the sons of the desert surged round the stately defences of the city, their main attack being directed against the golden gate. every attempt proved abortive, yet they held on with marvellous persistence. on the approach of winter they would retire to a base established on the isle of cysicus, where they stored their spoils and provisions. for six successive summers they kept up the attempt upon the city walls, their hope and vigour gradually fading, until shipwreck and disease, allied with sword and fire, the newly-invented greek fire, forced them to relinquish the fruitless enterprise. their losses are computed at 30,000 slain, and among these they bewailed the loss of abou eyub or tob. that venerable arab was one of the last-surviving companions of mahomed; he was numbered among the ansars or auxiliaries of medina, who sheltered the head of the fugitive prophet. eyub lies buried at a spot not far from the northern extremity of the land-walls on the shores of the golden horn, where a mosque, one of the most beautiful of all those that adorn constantinople, now enshrines his bones. it is at this mosque of eyub that the sultan, on his accession, is girded with the sacred sword of othmar, a ceremony that compares in religious importance with the coronation of a christian monarch. the unsuccessful issue of the saracen attacks upon constantinople cast a shadow upon the lustre of their army, and revived both in the east and west the prestige of the roman sword. a truce of thirty years was ratified at damascus in 677, and the majesty of the commander of the faithful was dimmed by the necessity of paying tribute, fifty horses of a noble breed, fifty slaves and three thousand pieces of gold. a yet more barbarous enemy appeared before this section of the city walls in leo the armenian's reign. rumours of their approach had reached the city, and it was heralded by vast clouds of dust raised by the feet of innumerable flocks of sheep and goats who accompanied these adventurers wherever they went. they pitched their leathern tents on the plain and heights outside the golden gate, where their strange aspect startled those who held watch and ward over the city. these barbarians were clad in furs, they shaved their heads and scarified their faces, of luxury they knew nothing, and their sole industries were violence and rapine. finding all his efforts against the stout walls of the city unavailing, king crum, the leader of these hordes, offered up human sacrifices under the golden gate. but this failed to propitiate his gods, and one day a receding cloud of dust announced the departure of these savage enemies. another foe knocked at the portal of the golden gate and tried his strength against the wall in vain, though sometimes more successful in the open field. a new power had arisen on the banks of the danube in the days of constantine iii--the bulgarians. whence they came and what their origin is still a matter of conjecture best left to those whose business it is to find out. suffice it to say that they appear from time to time and trouble the peace of the eastern empire, or on some rare occasions act as its allies. their history is strangely stirring. theodoric, in his march to italy, had trampled on them, and for a century and a half all traces of their name and nation disappear from the historian's ken. in the ninth century we hear of them again on the southern bank of the danube. their return to the north from whence they came was prevented by a stronger race that followed them, whilst their progress to the west was checked by more powerful nations in that quarter. they found some vent for their military ardour in opposing the inroads of the eastern emperors, and may lay claim to an honour till then appropriated only by the goths--that of having slain a roman emperor in battle. it came about in this fashion. the emperor nicephorus had advanced with boldness and success into the west of bulgaria and destroyed the royal court by fire. but while he lingered on in search of spoil, refusing all treaties, his enemies collected their forces and barred the passes of retreat. for two days the emperor waited in despair and inactivity, on the third the bulgarians surprised the camp and slew the emperor and great officers of the eastern empire. valens had, after the emperor's death at the hands of the goths, escaped from insult, but the skull of nicephorus i, encased with gold, served as a drinking vessel. before the end of the same century a better understanding had been established, and the sons of bulgarian nobles were educated in the schools and palaces of constantinople; among them was simeon, a youth of royal line, of whom luitprand the historian says: "simeon fortis bellator, bulgariæ proecrat; christianus sed vicinis græcis valde inimicus." many bulgarian youths are even now being educated at the robert college. simeon was intended for a religious life, but he abandoned it to take up arms; he inherited the crown of bulgaria and reigned over that country from the end of the ninth to well into the tenth century. his hostility to the greeks found frequent expression, and he and his host appeared before the walls of constantinople. on classic ground at achelous, the greeks were vanquished by the bulgarians, thereupon simeon hastened to besiege the emperor in his own strong city. simeon and the emperor met in conference--the bulgarians vying with the greeks in the splendour of their display, though combined with the most jealous precautions against unpleasant surprises, and their monarch dictated the terms on which he would agree to peace. "are you a christian?" asked the humbled emperor romanus i. "it is your duty to abstain from the blood of your fellow-christians. has the thirst for riches seduced you from the blessings of peace? sheath your sword, open your hand and i will give you the utmost measure of your desire." soon the successors of simeon by their jealousies undermined the strength of the kingdom, and when next they went forth to meet the greeks in battle basil ii found no great difficulty in defeating them. a terrible home-coming theirs; through snow and ice the remnant of bulgaria's manhood struggled on in little bands of a hundred at a time, following the voice, each company, of a single leader, as they groped their way through the darkness. for they were blinded. they had escaped from the clemency of a christian emperor, by whose orders only one man in a hundred retained the sight of one eye. the king of the bulgarians died of grief. his people lived on, contained within the limits of a narrow province, to wait in patience for revenge. the visitor to sofia, the new capital of a new bulgaria, should not fail to inspect the museum, carefully and skilfully arranged by king ferdinand. there he will find, among a host of interesting matter, pictures illustrating the history of the country. of these works none is more strikingly pathetic than one which represents the return of those sightless bulgarian warriors. as after the crushing defeat inflicted on the inhabitants of bulgaria by the goths, the country silently and forcefully waited to regain its strength. another century and a half elapsed after the victory of basil bulgaroktonos before the bulgarians regained offensive power. during this interval they existed as a province of the dominions of byzantium, and no attempts were made to impose roman laws and usage upon them. it was isaac angelus who lashed the bulgarians to desperation by driving away their only means of subsistence--their flocks and herds--to contribute to the extravagant splendour that was wasted on his nuptials. two powerful bulgarian chiefs--peter and asan--rose in revolt, asserted their own rights and the national freedom, and spread the fire of rebellion from the danube to the hills of macedonia and thrace. by the supineness of the emperor these proceedings were allowed to pass unchecked, a fact which added to the contempt felt for the greeks by their former subjects. asan addressed his troops in these words: "in all the greeks, the same climate and character and education will be productive of the same fruits. behold my lance and the long streamers that float in the wind. they differ only in colour, they are formed of the same silk and fashioned by the same workman, nor has the stripe that is stained in purple any superior price or value above its fellows." so after several faint efforts isaac and his brother, who usurped the throne, acquiesced in the independence of the bulgarians. john, or joannice, ascended the throne of a second kingdom of bulgaria, and submitted himself as a spiritual vassal to the pope, from whom he received a licence to coin money, a royal title and a latin archbishop. thus the vatican accomplished the spiritual conquest of bulgaria, the first object of the schism between the western and the eastern see when, after the disorders provoked by hopeless eastern emperors, such as alexius iv and v, and nicolas canabus, the latins gained possession of the throne of cæsar. calo-john, as he was called, king of bulgaria, sent friendly greetings to baldwin i, but these provoked an unexpected answer. the [illustration: theodosian wall and approach to belgrade kapoussi, second military state. these are the theodosian walls, the proudest and most lasting monument to that dynasty which was founded when gratian invested theodosius with the imperial purple.] latin emperor demanded that the rebel should deserve his pardon by touching with his forehead the footstool of the imperial throne. so trouble broke out again, again war was waged with all its attendant savagery, and calo-john reinforced his army by a body of 14,000 horsemen from the scythian deserts. a fierce battle at adrianople resulted in the total defeat of the emperor, and he himself was taken prisoner. his fate was for some years uncertain, and even the demands of the pope for the restitution of the emperor failed to elicit any other answer from king john, save that baldwin had died in prison. for years the conflict raged till henry, the second of the latin emperors, routed the bulgarians. calo-john was slain in his tent by night, and the deed was piously ascribed to the lance of st. demetrius. we have followed the sad fate of the crusade which pope urban proclaimed against the turks in a preceding chapter and seen how amurath, surprising the christian camp, drove his enemies before him "as flames driven before the wind, till plunging into the maritza they perished in its waters." sisvan the bulgarian king obtained a peace at the price of the marriage of his daughter to amurath in 1389, invaded the kingdom of bulgaria, making adrianople the base of operations; how sisvan the king fled to nicopolis, was there besieged by ali and surrendered. from that date till quite recent times bulgaria has been incorporated in the ottoman empire. now, after a lapse of over five centuries, she has again established her national identity and under an enlightened and progressive ruler gives promise of holding her own without experiencing another break in the history of the race. the golden gate and its romantic history has claimed a considerable portion of the travellers' and the author's time. the artist hopes his pencil has done sufficient justice to those glorious ruins, and for some time has turned eager eyes northward, where a line of stately towers and masses of ruined masonry offer fair prospect of enriching his store of sketches. the road that leads us onward may perhaps pass unrecognized as such by travellers who are used to the smooth surface over which the motor races in a cloud of dust in western countries. but let the author assure them that this broad track, one side supplied with rough stones picturesquely dispersed, the other chiefly consisting of ruts and holes, is indeed a road, and that, too, one whereon we have to travel. moving along we soon forget its shortcomings in the beauty of the scenery on either hand. to the left a gentle ridge, and everywhere, as far as eye can see, countless cypress-trees, some in stately groups, others in dark, jagged masses. beneath these rest faithful sons of islam, many of whom dashed out their souls against the walls that rise on our right hand. tier upon tier they rise--some almost intact, others battered beyond recognition, right away from the golden gate to within sight of the golden horn. these are the theodosian walls, the proudest and most lasting monument to that dynasty which was founded when gratian invested theodosius with the imperial purple. we watched the enceinte of the city of byzas grow, saw how the walls he built to landward could no longer contain the increasing population. the walls that byzas built have vanished, and those of constantine the great have served their purpose, and were dismantled, so that to theodosius ii was left the task of giving to the city its widest limits. historians of the time draw a pleasant picture of the scene when these walls were erected. the different factions all combined to help, and inscriptions, still to be seen, testify to this fact. all citizens were called upon to assist, so without waste of time these walls arose. misfortune visited them shortly after their completion, when an earthquake overthrew a great portion of the work, including fifty-seven towers. at an inopportune moment too, for the arms of theodosius had suffered defeat by attila in three successive engagements, and "the scourge of god," as he was pleased to call himself, having ravaged the provinces of macedonia and thrace with fire and sword, was drawing very near to constantinople. but two determined men--constantine, prætorian prefect of the east, and marcellius comes--called upon the patriotism of the populace, and in less than three months the damaged walls had been restored and even strengthened by their united efforts. an imposing prospect these walls still offer even in their present state; how much more formidable must they have appeared when all one hundred and ninety-two towers stood firm and unshaken and the walls between had not been broken by an enemy's artillery or dismantled by the tooth of time! their construction was a marvel of devotion, their plan the work of genius, for of its kind no defences better calculated to protect a city were ever devised by human ingenuity. let us move to the very edge of the road, where there is a slightly raised and extremely irregular footpath, and take a general and comprehensive glance at the walls of theodosius. at our feet the counterscarp which stayed the earth on the enemy's side from filling up the moat. there comes the moat over sixty feet in width. the depth when still in use is not known to us, but we know from our visit to the golden gate that it must have been considerable. the wall we see on the further side of the moat, taking the enemy's point of view, is the scarp. some of its battlements remain; they served to cover the movements of troops on the terrace between the scarp and the wall. this outer wall rises to about ten feet and tapers from a base of about six feet in thickness to two feet at the summit. from the remains of this wall we can gather that it contained a long series of vaulted chambers which offered shelter to the troops engaged in the defence, and there are loopholes facing west, through which their fire was directed. small towers, some round, others square, about thirty-five feet high, still further strengthened the position. but the main defence lay in the inner wall, separated from the outer one by a broad terrace of some fifty feet, which served as a parade-ground for the troops that garrisoned the chambers of the outer wall, when the city was invested by an enemy. this imposing mass of fortifications stands on a higher level than the others, and here the main strength of the defence was stationed. a chain of mighty towers composed it, and they are linked together by stout walls known as curtains to the expert. these towers, most of which are square, stand about one hundred and seventy feet apart, and rose, when in their completed state, to a height of sixty feet, standing out some twenty feet from the curtain. each tower contained, as a rule, two chambers, was built of carefully cut stone and vaulted inside with brick. many a broken tower shows on the outside some mark or inscription dating back to the distant days of the glory of old byzantium. on the city side of the inner wall may still be seen traces of stone steps that led up to the summit, whence other flights of steps led under cover of battlements to the roof of each tower. for ten centuries these walls defied all onslaughts of an enemy; the battle-cry of many strange races, some whose day is done, others who stand high in the history of civilization to-day, was answered by shouts of defiance from the defenders of the city. so let us cross over the moat and look into one of those huge towers, which with their attendant curtains gave the eastern capital its immunity from invasion for so many ages. though appearing to form one solid mass, they are in reality built separately, so as to allow for the different rate of sinking between buildings of different weight. we may enter one of these broken towers from the [illustration: theodosian wall.--a broken tower, outside. many a broken tower shows on the outside some mark or inscription dating back to the distant days of the glory of old byzantium.] inner terrace, by a gap in the strong stonework, caused probably by an earthquake. this opening takes us to a place half-way between the floor and ceiling of the lower chamber. the vaulting that supported the upper floor has fallen in, but we can trace it in the brickwork that here, as elsewhere amid these walls, recall in shape and colour the remains of the defences of imperial rome. and yet another likeness strikes us in the courses of brick, laid at intervals in the construction of walls and towers, which served to bind the mass of masonry yet more firmly. this lower chamber, all dismantled now, and overgrown with weeds, may in times of peace have served a peaceful purpose. access to it was from inside the walls, and the proprietor of the land on which it stood was permitted to use it for what purposes he chose. but when the fire signals that flared on the tops of convenient heights gave notice of an enemy's approach these vaults would ring with the sound of armour and the epithets wherewith soldiers of all ages are supposed to garnish their remarks. arms and their use, and armour to protect the warrior, knew but few changes during the centuries that these walls fulfilled their purpose. men went to war clad in armour more or less protected according to their rank and the weight they were able to sustain. their weapons were bow and arrow, sword, battle-axe and spear, and their tactics did not require a constant series of new regulations. even the invention of greek fire did not bring about a revolution in the methods of warfare, although it was used with deadly effect both in sieges and sea-fights. for many years the greek empire maintained the traditions of the roman legions, but the men were not of the same stern stuff. instead of accustoming their mercenaries to the weight of armour by constant use, they carried it after them in light chariots, until on the approach of an enemy it was resumed with haste and reluctance. the need of reviving the martial spirit was felt by many an emperor, and edicts were issued commanding all able-bodied males up to the age of forty, to make themselves proficient in the practice of the bow. but the greek populace resisted these commands, so when the time of trial came they were found wanting, and had to give up their possessions into the hands of a stronger, sterner race, with loftier conceptions of a citizen's duty. with these reflections we must turn away from the vaults of the ruined tower, and leave it as a symbol of the decay that eats out the heart of all nations who forget that their country's greatness was built up only [illustration: theodosian wall--a broken tower (inside). we must turn away from the vaults of the ruined tower, and leave it as a symbol of the decay that eats out the heart of all nations who forget that their country's greatness was built up only by the self-sacrifice of former generations.] by the self-sacrifice of former generations, and that patriotism requires deeds and not mere empty words to maintain the heirlooms of the past. there are a number of gates that pierce the theodosian walls. with some of them we have little concern. their purpose was to expedite the manning of the defences by former garrisons. we pass the second military gate, now known as belgrad kapoussi, all embowered in trees, the moat in front of it filled up to serve the peaceful purpose of a market-garden. our way leads on along the road, which makes a curve more to northward and rises slightly. on the higher ground groups of cypress rise in sharp outline against the sky. on our left hand is an historic spot, for here stood the church of st. mary of the pegé, the holy spring. a road led to this sanctuary through a gate still standing, called the gate of the pegé, now silivria kapoussi. numbers of pious pilgrims have passed this way barefooted, to test the healing qualities of the holy spring with the added strength of faith, and on the high festival of the ascension the emperor himself would visit here in solemn state. one of these emperors, of whom we have already heard so much, was stoned by the populace on his return, and only with difficulty regained his palace by the sea of marmora--the emperor nicephorus phocas. this gate contributed again to the history of the byzantine empire when alexius strategopoulos, general of michael palæologus, entered here in 1261, drove out the latin emperor and reinstated his imperial master. andronicus, that rebel, entered the city by this gate to usurp his father's throne. amurath ii camped here, in the grounds of the church of the holy spring, during the first half of the fifteenth century, and less than fifty years later, in the last scene of the eastern empire's romantic history, a battery of three guns attacked this point. a few hundred yards to northward of the historic portals of silivria is the third military gate, and at the northern tower that flanks it the inner wall recedes for a short space and then comes out again to continue in a straight line. this recess is called the sigma, and in the quarter that lies behind this section of the wall, dramatic events in the life of constantinople took place. our travellers must again return to those dim ages of turbulent history. constantine ix had died in 1028, the last of the macedonian dynasty founded by that basil whom we watched as he entered by the side entrance of the golden gate weary and travel-stained, [illustration: gate of rhegium, or yedi mevlevi haneh. the gate of rhegium--now known as yedi mevlevi haneh, kapoussi.] but later to rise to the imperial purple. of constantine's three daughters, eudoxia took the veil and theodora declined to marry. there remained zoe, who professed herself a willing sacrifice at the hymeneal altar. a bridegroom was found for her in one romanus orgyrus, a patrician, but he declined the honour on the sufficient ground of being already married. romanus was informed that blindness or death were the alternatives to a royal match, and his devoted wife sacrificed her happiness to her husband's safety and greatness by retiring into a convent and thus removing the only bar to the imperial nuptials. so romanus reigned as third emperor of that name, though not for long, for zoe found in her chamberlain, michael the paphlagonian, attractions superior to those of her lawful spouse. romanus died suddenly and zoe married michael immediately, and raised him to the throne as fourth emperor of that name. but he, too, proved disappointing, so yet another michael, a nephew, was introduced into the story by john the eunuch, brother of the emperor. michael iv died and michael v reigned in his stead, but only for a year. his first act was to disgrace his uncle john, his second was the exile of his adopted mother, the daughter of so many emperors. this roused the populace to fury. the emperor michael calaphates, as he was called after his father's trade, was dragged from the monastery of studius, where he had taken refuge, to the statue of theodosius iii in the quarter of the sigma. here he and his uncle constantine were deprived of their eyesight. our road leads on and, rising slightly, brings us to yet another gate, known to the chroniclers of byzantine history as the gate of rhegium, a town some twelve miles distant, now called kutchuk tchekmejdé. this gate was erected by the red faction, and was no doubt at one time a busy thoroughfare. now it is know as yedi mevlevi, haneh kapoussi. it is almost deserted; two slender cypress-trees guard the entrance, through which you may see a white-turbaned hodja pass on his way towards the mosque, whose tapering minaret gleams over the broken, ivy-clad battlements. rising higher as we go on, we pass stately groups of cypresses on our left, and before us, where the road bends slightly to the right, a very forest of those trees guarding a turkish cemetery where thousands of the faithful are interred. let us step on to one of those low walls that cross the moat; their original purpose has not yet been definitely ascertained; their summit used to taper to a sharp edge, but this has worn away and we find ample standing room. looking back the [illustration: top kapoussi, gate of st. romanus. the slight bend in the road takes us to the gate of st. romanus, now known as top kapoussi.] way we came, we see a double line of walls and towers, that for so many years guarded the city of constantine and allowed the nations of the west to evolve from chaos. the moat, once a serious obstacle to an assailant, now produces from its fertile soil the fruits of a gardener's labours. across the road the serried ranks of cypress-trees in their impenetrable gloom, and right away, over the ruins of yedi koulé, the deep blue sea of marmora merging into the clearer azure of a southern sky. the slight bend in the road takes us due north, though until now we have been holding a point or two to west, and across a worse pavement than before we search the gate of st. romanus, now known as top kapoussi. beyond the road this gate is guarded by an unnumbered multitude that rest here under the forest of cypress-trees. two roads converge upon this gate, so there is a stream of oriental life continually passing through it by day. troops marching out to field-drill in the morning, mules and ponies entering with baskets full of country produce, and perhaps a string of camels, laden with eastern goods, setting out for the western provinces. and in the gateway you may see signs of commercial enterprise, small booths and stalls doing trade in a dignified and oriental way, while a cobbler sits in the sunshine mending shoes, the wearer of which waits barefooted and deep in contemplation. from sunrise to sunset this place is full of the sounds and sights that travellers in the east are wont to enjoy, but at night it is given over to haunting memories. entering this gate one afternoon, the artist had an experience which he is burning to relate. a tram-line leads from here into the heart of the city; a car was about to start and the artist boarded it. drawn by a horse with no ambition to break records, the journey proceeded. the other passengers were two armenians, army doctors, and a turk, a young man of independent habits and picturesquely clad. all paid their fare to the conductor, a venerable turk with a long grey beard. all but the young man--he declined emphatically. "but it is usual to pay," protested the conductor--"every one pays who travels by this tram; those effendi there have paid." no! the young man would not unbend--he still more resolutely refused. so in despair the old conductor turned to the other passengers and asked: "may this be?" "is this the will of allah?" the doctors shook their heads and answered nothing; the artist, usually so well informed, held his peace, for he is no authority on the view that allah may take of tram-fares. so the [illustration: third military gate. in the gateway you may see signs of commercial enterprise. from sunrise to sunset this place is full of the sounds and sights that travellers in the east are wont to enjoy.] journey proceeded, but not for long. the road being up, the passengers alighted, though they had paid a fare entitling them to travel to the end. this no doubt was kismet--but it affords a striking instance of the way in which the rain of allah falls on just and unjust without preference or distinction. chapter ix the valley of the lycus the sun is declining towards the west, and the tall cypresses cast lengthening shadows across our road. we may linger no longer at the gate of st. romanus, for we have much to see before the day draws to a close. so let us go forward along the road again. before we leave the shade of the cypress groves the road begins to descend. here to our left the conqueror, sultan mahomed, pitched his tent where he could survey the warlike operations carried on against the city in the valley below. to our right the moat deepens, and the enormous strength of the position chosen for the walls of theodosius becomes more apparent here than anywhere. below us lies a deep valley--the valley of the lycus, the spot which the genius of mahomed chose for the final assault upon the city of constantine, and here it was that the history of the byzantine empire was brought to an abrupt conclusion. by the golden light of the afternoon sun this valley [illustration: the valley of the lycus, looking north. the road leads up to the ridge on the other side like a white band, strongly contrasting with the deep tone of the cypresses that crown the height.] looks wonderfully peaceful. the road leads up to the ridge on the other side like a white band, strongly contrasting with the deep tone of the cypresses that crown the height. beyond them again you see the further side of the golden horn, serene and beautiful, while a faint haze rising from the water speaks of industry, and shimmers in the last rays of the sun. we enter the gate of st. romanus for a minute and note the strength of the remaining towers of the inner hall. a few steps further, turning to the left, gives us a comprehensive view of that historic spot, the valley of the lycus, seen from within the walls. at our feet down in the valley, clusters of little wooden houses cling to the old walls and are shaded by acacia-trees. this is a bohemian settlement, where you may see women unveiled and dressed in tattered garments of bright colours, and little brown children wearing nothing but a coat of dust acquired in their researches on the road. to the left the massive inner wall descends and shows a forest of cypress-trees upon the northern bank of the lycus. the wall rises again and reaches the highest ground covered by the fortifications of theodosius. here stands the mosque of mihrimah upon the site of a church dedicated to st. george. but that chaotic mass of ruin at our feet has yet a stormy tale to tell, so we descend into the valley of the lycus. the memories of those last years of the byzantine empire, of the days when the proud towers and stout walls of theodosius tottered and fell before the black powder invented by a german monk but used by a ruthless eastern warrior with such disastrous effect, hang so thick that former events are almost lost in obscurity. before the city extended as far as these walls, and ere there was occasion for them, the valley of the lycus was a pleasant place to see. the stream had not sunk into insignificance, but still watered fair meadows. here 3000 white-robed catechumens were assembled one easter morn awaiting baptism at the hands of st. john chrysostom. as we have already heard, he had just been deprived of his high office by the intrigue of the empress eudoxia. yet he meant to perform the ceremony, and would have done so but for arcadius, who happened to pass that way and ordered his guard of goths to disperse the crowd. then some years later, when these proud walls were newly built, their founder, theodosius ii, rode down from the heights without the walls. he fell from his horse and died a few days later from the injury caused to his spine. let us now turn to the history of that race that overthrew the last remains of the roman power. the race [illustration: the valley of the lycus, from inside the walls. before the city extended as far as these walls, and ere there was occasion for them, the valley of the lycus was a pleasant place to see.] that in this valley wrested the ancient bulwark of europe from the weak hands of the last byzantine emperor--the turks. to do this we must go back into the records of the sixth century and notice the state of asia and its relation to europe at that time. in the sixth century there appeared out of the east a race destined to overthrow byzantine civilization and persian splendour, a power destined to stretch its conquering arms from the euphrates to the pyrenees, and from the red to the black sea. the nomad races of arabia had never played an important part in the history of the world. they lived a patriarchal existence in their rocky fastnesses or desolate plains. their system did not encourage national unity, concentration of strength on consolidation of resources. they had never engaged in agriculture nor practised any handicraft; their sole employments were the chase and the care of sheep and goats. it seemed that these dwellers in tents would never know anything better than the nomadic life. but a great force arose which united the groups of tribes into a nation--mahomed the prophet--and having conquered and converted to his faith the whole arabian peninsula, made ready with the forces under his control to spread his creed into all lands. mahomed's general, khaled, called the "sword of god," in a very short time after the prophet's death subdued the persian army and gained its empire for his master, the caliph abu bekr, mahomed's successor as commander of the faithful. in the same reign syria was conquered from heraclius, ecbatana and damascus became mahomedan towns like mecca and medina. amron the general of omar, the third caliph, added egypt to the new empire, and in less than eighty years the arabs had conquered every foe they encountered. but their power fell as quickly as it had risen. the empire was divided into independent caliphates, spain, egypt and africa, but with the fate of these the traveller is well acquainted. damascus became the capital of calipha, and legend and history make much mention of the men who ruled there: haroun-al-rashid, the contemporary of charlemagne, al-mamoon and others of his line. but the days of the arab empire were numbered, another race appeared in asia minor, coming from their hunting-grounds in tartary--the turks. the origin of this newly-arrived people is obscure--they are said to claim descent from japhet, and no doubt he will serve the purpose as well as any other of the sons of noah. an english historian of the seventeenth century (knolles) took sufficient interest in the turks to write their history, and he begins with these remarks: "the glorious empire of the turks, the present terrour of the world, hath amongst other things nothing in it more wonderful or strange than the poor beginning of itselfe, so small and obscure as that it is not well knowne unto themselves, or agreed upon even among the best writers of their histories; from whence this barbarous nation that now so triumpheth over the best part of the world, first crept out or took their beginning. some (after the manner of most nations) derive them from the trojans, led thereunto by the affinity of the word turci and teucri; supposing (but with what probability i know not) the word turci, or turks, to have been made of the corruption of the word teucri, the common name of the trojans." the "ten tribes" have also been called upon to act as ancestry to the turkish nation, but have not as yet responded to the call. it is to be presumed that the turks are a mixed race, at least a study of the various and very different types you see leads to that conclusion. at any rate the turks were there, there's no denying it, and made their power felt. from tartary, where in the fifth century bertezena established a short-lived turkish empire, this race spread in successive waves over the whole of asia. one wave overran china, which remained for two hundred years under the tartar sway. another wave achieved the conquest of bokhara and samarkand, and gradually drew nearer to the western part of asia, where they first heard of the splendours of the empire of constantinople. in the sixth century they sent an ambassador to justinian, entered into alliance with him, and engaged to rout the abari and protect the frontiers of the empire from their inroads. they also defended it against the persians, and defeated them on the oxus. by degrees they became formidable to the eastern empire, but their progress was checked by the arabs, who in the eighth century overran their country and compelled them to embrace the mahomedan faith. soon the young race recovered its strength, and came to the assistance of the caliph motassem, whose nation was then on the down grade, and no longer supplied the men whose victorious arms had carried the crescent triumphant to so many countries. fifty thousand turkish mercenaries were taken into the service of the caliph, and, like the prætorian cohort of rome, the janissaries of constantinople and the mamelukes of egypt, they in time assumed decisive voice in the government. a turkish dynasty, that of the samanians, ruled over most of the territories formerly possessed by the arab caliphs. of this, mahmud was the most famous; in the twelfth century he conquered delhi, multan and lahore, and his victorious career was only checked by the waters of the ganges; he was the first to bear the title of sultan. another turkish dynasty, the house of seljuk, sprang up and dispossessed both sultan and caliph of the territories they had obtained. the dominions thus acquired were increased until the greater part of asia minor had gone to form the turkish empire. the city of nice was captured to become the turkish capital, and the eastern emperor alexander comnenus was forced to acknowledge suleiman as master of asia minor. but reverses were in store for the young empire of the turks; the eastern emperor gathered together an immense army of macedonians, bulgarians and moldavians. he solicited the aid of the crusaders, and bands of french and norman knights, headed by ursel baliol, whom gibbon calls "the kinsman," or "father of the scottish kings." the turks were everywhere defeated. nice and the western portions of asia minor were regained, and iconium became the turkish capital. yet more trouble came to the house of seljuk, and this time from the east, where jenghiz jehan with his fierce mongols was abroad, under whose attacks the dynasty of seljuk fell. the bearer of a romantic name, and one known to all true moslems, now appears upon the scene. ertoghrul, the son of suleiman, who had been accidentally drowned in the euphrates, was marching with a portion of his tribe, 444 horsemen, who chose him for their leader, towards iconium, the seljukian kingdom. he accidentally met the forces of ala-ed-din flying before a host of mongols. joining forces with the sultan he changed the fortunes of the day and routed the enemy. the grateful sultan rewarded him with the principality of sultan oeni or sultan's front, on the western border of the iconian kingdom. here ertoghrul settled as warden of the marches. in his new office ertoghrul enhanced the reputation he had already earned as faithful vassal of the sultan. he carried his victorious arms further afield, and at broussa defeated the combined forces of greeks and mongols. the territory he had thus gained was conferred upon him, his power grew, and with it that of his race; he died in 1288, and othman, his son, was chosen as his successor. this, the progenitor of those who in unbroken succession have ruled over the destinies of the turkish empire, and whose descendant occupies the throne of the eastern empire to-day, was twenty-four years old when he succeeded to the government of his tribe. to great strength and beauty (he was called kara, from the jet-black colour of his hair and beard) he added courage and energy; and, like all great conquerors, had the gift of reading the characters of men. this enabled him to make wise and fortunate selections of those whom he employed to carry out his designs. othman's long and prosperous reign laid the foundation of the present turkish empire. his campaigns were victorious, the territory of neighbouring turkish tribes was incorporated in his dominions, and the greek empire was forced to contribute to the aggrandizement of his realm. during an interval of peace, from 1291 to 1298, othman devoted his energies to the internal government of his dominions and became famous for the toleration which he exercised towards his christian subjects. not till the death of ala-ed-din, the seljukian sultan, did othman declare himself independent. he did not even then assume the full title of sultan or emperor, but with his two next successors reigned only as emirs or governors. when, after several years of peace, othman had consolidated his resources, he went to war again, and in order to give his followers greater zest and increase their zeal, proclaimed himself the chosen defender of the moslem faith and declared that he had a direct mission from heaven. he thus infected them with a fanaticism to the full as fierce and effective as that which had urged mahomed's hordes on their career of conquest. the only evil deed which may be attributed to this great ruler was committed in a fit of rage. his venerable uncle dundar, who, seventy years before, had been one of the four hundred and forty-four horsemen who followed the banner of ertoghrul, endeavoured to dissuade him from an attempt on the greek fortress of koepri hissar. othman, observing that some of his officers agreed with dundar, raised his bow and shot his uncle dead. thus the commencement of ottoman sway was marked by the murder of an uncle, even as the foundation of rome began with fratricide. koepri hissar fell before othman's fanatic onslaught at houyon hissar, where he for the first time encountered a regular greek army in the field. again he conquered. in the beginning of the fourteenth century othman fought his way to the black sea, leaving behind him several towns unsubdued, amongst these broussa. othman's body was failing fast from old age, and he had to send his son orchan against a mongolian army, which the greek emperor, unable to stem the tide of turkish conquest, had incited to attack the enemy's southern frontier. orchan beat them, then returned to besiege broussa, and in 1326 took it. othman only survived to hear the joyful news. bestowing his blessing on his son, he said: "my son, i am dying, and i die without regret, because i leave such a good successor as thou. be just, love goodness and show mercy. give the same protection to all thy subjects, and extend the faith of the prophet." orchan buried his father at broussa, and erected a splendid mausoleum over his remains. acting on his father's advice he made broussa his capital, and it remained so until the fall of constantine's city. the standard and scimitar of othman are still preserved as objects of veneration. as we have said before, the sword of othman is girded on each succeeding sultan amid the prayers of his people: "may he be as good as othman." the romantic history of the kingdom built up by othman was worthily continued by his sons. orchan was proclaimed emir and urged his brother to share the throne. but ala-ed-din declined, asking only the revenues of a single village for his maintenance. orchan then said, "since, brother, you will not accept the flocks and herds i offer you, be the shepherd of my people--be my vizier." and so this high office was instituted. ala-ed-din devoted himself to the domestic policy of the state and undertook the first steps towards military organization. the troops that had followed othman to victory were the same men who fed the flocks on the banks of the euphrates and sakaria. they formed loose squadrons of irregular cavalry, and after the war returned to their peaceful avocation and, in the main, the mass of the nation continued to be the source whence in the time of war the ottoman troops were drawn. but ala-ed-din saw the need of a standing army who should make war their sole business and profession, and first raised a body of infantry called jaza or piade. the next corps raised were the famous janissaries. they were entirely composed of christian children taken in battle or in sieges and compelled to embrace the mahomedan faith. a thousand recruits were added yearly to their numbers, and they were called jeni iskeri, or new troops, from which is derived the european corruption janissaries. these janissaries were trained to warlike exercises from their youth, and subjected to the strictest discipline. they were not allowed to form any territorial connection with the land that had adopted them, their prospects of advancement depended entirely on their skill in the profession of arms, and the highest posts in that profession only were open to them. their isolated position and the complete community of interest which united them prevented the degeneracy and enervation which so speedily settled upon every eastern empire when once the fire of conquest had died down. ala-ed-din further extended the military organization of the othman crown, and in a manner that rendered the fighting forces readily adaptable to every exigency. a _corps-d'élite_ was formed of specially chosen horsemen. these were called spahis. then further corps were organized, the silihdars, or vassal cavalry; ouloufedji, or paid horsemen; ghoureha, or foreign horse; azabs, or light infantry; and the akindji, or irregular light horse. we have met these latter before, when describing battles in which turks and franks were opposed to each other. the akindji gathered together in irregular hordes to accompany every military enterprise, they foraged for the regular troops and swarmed round them to cover a retreat or harass a retiring enemy, they received no pay like the janissaries nor lands like the piade, and were entirely dependent on plunder. the story of a clever ruse is told of one of orchan's campaigns against the greeks. othman had left nice and nicomedia untaken. orchan took the latter town and invested nice. andronicus, the greek emperor, crossed the hellespont with a hastily-raised levy to raise the siege of nice, but orchan met and defeated him with a portion of his army. now the garrison of nice had been advised of the emperor's intention and daily expected his arrival. so orchan disguised 800 of his followers as greek soldiers and directed them against the fortress. these pseudo-greeks, to give the ruse a yet greater semblance of reality, were harassed by mock encounters with turkish regular horse. the disguised turks appeared to have routed the enemy, and headed for the city gate. the garrison had been watching the proceedings, were thoroughly deceived and threw open the gate. an assault by the besieging army, assisted by the force that had gained ingress, brought the city into orchan's possession. by 1336 orchan had included all north-western asia minor in the ottoman empire, and the next twenty years of peace he devoted to the work of perfecting the military organization and consolidating the resources of his newly-acquired territories; in this his brother ala-ed-din loyally supported him. thus in the middle of the fourteenth century we find two empires face to face, separated only by the narrow channel of the bosphorus. on the asiatic side the ottoman empire, homogeneous, for all its subjects were of the same race, strong and united; on the other side the greek empire, distracted by constant feud and domestic disturbance. it is not to be wondered at that under such conditions occasion should have arisen for turkish interference in the affairs of the eastern empire, and a feud between the genoese and the venetians offered a suitable excuse. the genoese were in possession of galata; their commercial rivals, the venetians, sought them out and attacked them on the bosphorus. now orchan hated the venetians, for they had arrogantly refused to receive an ambassador whom he sent to venice. the venetians were the allies of the empire, and orchan had only a few years before married the daughter of cantacuzene, the greek emperor. desire to be avenged prompted orchan to ally himself with the genoese, against the empire and the venetians. his son solyman crossed the hellespont by night with a handful of faithful followers and took koiridocastron, or "hog's castle." no attempt was made to regain the castle, as the emperor was fully occupied not only with the armies of his rebel son-in-law palæologus, but with the genoese fleet. the greek emperor found himself in sore straits and implored the aid of orchan. this orchan readily granted and sent ten thousand troops over to europe, who, after beating the slavonic army of palæologus, did not return to asia, but took a firm footing under solyman, upon the european mainland. before long the turkish empire had acquired a number of strong places, and it was evident that they had come to stay. soon after these events solyman, when engaged in his favourite sport of falconry, was thrown from his horse and killed. he was buried on the spot at which he had led his soldiers into europe. his father orchan died the same year, after a reign of thirty-five years. we may date the actual foundation of turkish greatness in asia and its effect on the history of europe, and more especially of constantinople, from the reign of this able and enlightened monarch and his loyal brother ala-ed-din. the endless possibilities contained in that strong and single-minded race of turks were concentrated on the banks of the bosphorus, their advanced guard had crossed into europe and had there secured a firm foothold. the turks were knocking at the gates of constantinople. our travellers have heard already how amurath i, the youngest son of orchan, inherited his father's throne. we have followed amurath's romantic career, how he restored the empire his father left him, after subduing the prince of carmania, who with some other turkish emirs rose against the house of othman. amurath's rule was extended yet further in europe at the cost of the greek empire, and in the middle of the fourteenth century he made adrianople his european capital. under amurath the ottomans first encountered those slavonic races with whom they were for centuries after so frequently engaged in hostilities. following the fortunes of amurath, we heard the din of battle when the western chivalry was opposed to the dashing valour of the turk, and saw the crescent victorious when the turmoil subsided on the banks of the maritza. the warlike host of the slavonic confederacy passed in pageant before us, to meet its fate at kossova, where amurath, the conqueror, perished in the fight. the victorious son of amurath, bajazet, who first of the house of othman assumed the title of sultan, has been presented to our travellers. with those who took their walks on the atrium down by the sea of marmora, we watched the events that marked the reign of bajazet and felt the increasing pressure to which the failing greek empire was submitted. if we wish to gain some idea of the terror that was felt, let us imagine london slowly isolated by an irresistible host of the chinese and trying hard to secure the spiritual sanction and material protection of her old enemy, the pope of rome. we heard the ringing blows dealt by the turks as they hammered at the walls of constantine's city, and breathed again when tamerlane and his savage hordes threatened the eastern provinces of bajazet's asiatic empire. when bajazet was slain at angora we saw how the imperial city revived, and how hope lingered during the years that mahomed i employed in putting his asiatic house in order. but shortly after, yet another amurath appeared in europe and laid siege to constantinople; but the time was not yet come, and he was compelled to withdraw to his carmanian frontier. nevertheless, the turks were even then virtual masters of the situation; thessalonica had fallen, sacked by amurath ii, and nothing but the imperial city and a small tract of country round it was left to the eastern empire. the travellers have witnessed the growth of the city which byzas founded, and seen how, according to the utterance of the oracle, it prospered. they have watched the city expand under the fostering care of the earlier emperors, and have noted how the security its walls afforded led to a mode of life which unfitted the populace for their own defence. but for the stoutness of these walls the city might have fallen long before the advent of mahomed the conqueror, and europe therefore is deeply indebted to these, the monuments of the theodosian dynasty. but the day was drawing near when even this massive chain of masonry should prove of no avail to check the onrush of a vigorous enemy; the encircling walls and sentinel towers had almost accomplished their task of ten centuries, and behind them a nervous, faint-hearted populace awaited the end of all things. what rumours spread throughout the city of that fiendish invention of the latins--the black powder. reports came in of how that foreign inventor, who had deserted to the turks on account of ill-usage by the greeks, had built a foundry under mahomed's eye at adrianople and cast a cannon of vast destructive power, a cannon with a bore of twelve palms' breadth, which could contain a charge that drove a stone ball of six hundred pounds weight a distance of a mile, to bury it in the ground to the depth of a furlong. then frenzy seized the city, and constantine, the last emperor of that name, endeavoured to renew communion between the greek church and the see of rome. so cardinal isidore of russia entered the city as the legate of pope nicholas v, and with him came a retinue of priests and soldiers. the union of the churches was solemnized at st. sophia, and immediately gave rise to more disorder in the streets. this was the state of constantine's imperial city when mahomed ii encamped outside the walls and planted his victorious standard before the gate of st. romanus. though the walls of the city were stout and true, the power of the defenders was not equal to that of the hosts arrayed against them. the store of gunpowder, which by this time had found its way into use in the greek army, was not adequate for a protracted siege, and though the emperor constantine comported himself as a hero should, the spirit of his people had long been divorced from military valour. the formidable array of mahomed's army stretched all along the land-walls, from the sea of marmora to the golden horn, and, as we have related, the upper reaches of that harbour were held by the galleys he had transported overland. in the first days of the siege the greek garrison made frequent sorties to destroy the earthworks behind which the aggressors planned their mines, and made much progress in the art of countermining. but the serious losses such operations entailed, and the dwindling store of powder, put an end to these enterprises. so from april till may of 1453 the siege of constantinople continued. the emperor and his brave ally giustiniani, commander of a genoese contingent, held the foe at bay, and encouraged the defenders by their example. engines of war, ancient and modern, the newly-invented cannon, and the towers of offence well known as far back as the early wars of rome, took their places side by side for the first and last time in the annals of military history. let us look down upon the valley of the lycus, a scene of desolation to-day, and fill in the gaps that turkish arms have made. let us people the reconstructed bulwarks with defenders, while in the valley below and on all the ground before the walls swarm the hosts of mahomed. here round the imperial standard of the sultan are camped his best troops, those formidable janissaries who are kept in leash until the last decisive charge. meanwhile, the lighter irregular forces skirmish about the moat and ramparts. down in the valley and opposite the fifth military gate the famous gun is placed--a mighty engine of war for those early days of artillery; it fired seven times a day, and for its conveyance a carriage of thirty waggons, drawn by a team of sixty oxen, was required. other lighter artillery was placed here, all thundering at the tower that flanks the military gate to northward. above the roar of cannon and the din of battle we may hear the sound of falling masonry, and when the smoke fades away the ruins of that tower strew the terrace. all the small towers of the outer wall and their connecting curtains have been laid low, the _débris_ fills the moat, and every sign points out that the time for the final assault has arrived. it is daybreak on may 29, 1453, and we resume our place, looking down into the valley of the lycus. the hostile leaders had spent the preceding night each in a characteristic manner. mohamed had assembled his chiefs and issued final orders; he dispatched crowds of dervishes to visit the tents of his troops to inflame their fanaticism and promise them great rewards--double pay, captives and spoil, gold and beauty, while to the first man who should ascend the walls the sultan pledged the government of the fairest province of his dominions. the emperor constantine likewise assembled his nobles and the bravest of his allies; he adjured them to make the most strenuous efforts in the defence, and to encourage the troops to do their utmost. he had no rewards to offer, but the example of their prince infused the courage of despair into the leaders of his despondent troops. a pathetic scene this, as described by the historian phranza, who assisted at it. when the emperor had delivered his last speech he and his followers embraced and wept. then each went his way, the leaders to hold watch at their posts, the emperor to a solemn mass at st. sophia, where for the last time in the history of that sacred shrine the mysteries of the christian faith were adored by any christian worshipper. constantine then returned to the palace and asked forgiveness of any of his servants whom he might have wronged. he then rode round the ramparts to inspect his troops and utter a last word of hope and encouragement. without the customary signal of the morning gun the assailants rose with the sun and dashed in successive waves against the walls of theodosius. time after time they were repulsed. the sultan on horseback, his iron mace in his hand, watched the tide that hurled itself against the walls and towers of constantinople, to surge back, and again to be reinforced by others who met the same fate. around the sultan ten thousand of his chosen troops impatiently awaited the signal for attack. meanwhile the courage and numbers of the defenders ebbed away. giustiniani, wounded in the hand, withdrew, and with him the genoese. a rumour spread that the turks had forced an entrance at the kerko porta. constantine, who, mounted on a white arab, was directing operations from the inner terrace by the fifth military gate, dashed along the rampart to help if help were needed. indeed the turks had gained admittance, but had again been speedily expelled. so constantine returned the way he came, and resumed his position by a small postern-gate that gave from the inner wall on to the terrace by the fifth military gate. when he arrived there the fighting masses of the sultan's bodyguard and janissaries were surging over the ruins of the outer wall and over the corpses of their predecessors on to the inner wall. the fury of their onslaught beat down all resistance, and the numbers of the christians were now but one to fifty of the ottomans. a gigantic janissary hassan was first upon the walls, he and those with him were thrown back; they charged again, and fell to make way for others. in swarms they came, those fiery janissaries, under the weight of whose tumultuous onslaught the christian garrison was overpowered. the victorious turks rushed in at the breaches in the wall, others had forced the gate of the phanar on the golden horn, and constantine's fair city was given over to the sword. thus after a siege of fifty-three days constantinople fell before the scimitar of othman, whose descendant reigns here to this day. and what of constantine ix, the last, perhaps the bravest, and certainly the most unfortunate bearer of an illustrious name? he was seen at his post by the postern-gate, bearing his part as a soldier in the defence of his city. he had laid aside the purple, and the nobles who fought around his person fell at his feet, until he too was cut down by an unknown hand, his body buried under a mountain of the slain. we may with gibbon apply those noble lines of dryden- "as to sebastian--let them search the field; and where they find a mountain of the slain, there they will find him at his manly length, with his face up to heaven, in that red monument which his good sword had digged." so, gentle travellers, ere we turn away from this historic spot, let us stand here a moment, here where the great cannon hurled missiles against the walls of theodosius. the lycus, now an insignificant stream, but yet so old and memorable in history, trickles away gently towards the ruined ramparts. it finds ingress under one of the ruined towers to our right. in front of us rise the remains of those walls that guarded the city through many centuries. there is the built-up entrance of what was once the fifth military gate, beside it the jagged ruins of the flanking tower, the gate of which we witnessed as the drama of the last siege was played before us. in front and all along to either hand the outer wall and moat are but a mass of ruins, and from the heights to north and south those solemn cypresses that guard the graves of the warriors who fell here, look down upon a scene of desolation. one more look upon the ruined curtain through which the built-up arch gave ingress to retreating greeks and ottoman assailants on that 29th of may, there in the angle caused by the wall and its southern flanking tower you may faintly see the remains of a postern-gate. there fell constantine, the last of the emperors of the east. [illustration: the valley of the lycus, showing where the last emperor fell. one more look upon the ruined curtain through which the built-up arch gave ingress to retreating greeks and ottoman assailants on that 29th of may, there in the angle caused by the wall and its southern flanking tower you may faintly see the remains of a postern-gate. there fell constantine, the last of the emperors of the east.] chapter x from the gate of edirné to the golden horn our travellers are approaching their journey's end. the road leads on northward up a steeper incline than that which took us to the gate of st. romanus. under the shade of cypress-trees, for here too they stand in dense and sombre gloom, we pass the edirné kapoussi, known before the turkish conquest as the gate of charisius. here the walls of theodosius recede towards the city. to reach them again we enter a little wooden gate into a greek cemetery. an attendant greek springs up out of the long grass with a hungry leer, and though we may not understand his speech, his hand extended to us, palm upwards, makes his meaning clear. the artist proudly points out that on all three occasions he knows of, the palm of that hand returned empty to the suppliant's trouser-pocket. a few paces due west take us again to the edge of the moat, out of the rank grass where a few goats are browsing, and from among the brambles that spring out of the crannies in the ruined scarp and counterscarp, rise sturdy fig-trees. their grey stems, the twisted branches and deep grey foliage form a sympathetic foreground to the mass of ruins that rise beyond them, bathed in the waning light. this is the palace of the porphyrogenitus, of him born in the purple. a flanking tower almost hides the west front of the palace from our view, the curtain that connects this tower with the next one to the south-west has a romantic history. the wall was formerly much higher, and was pierced by a small gate, known as the kerko porta, or circus gate. we well remember the name of this gate as it played its part on that dread day when the glory of the eastern empire subsided into a heap of smouldering ruins. a rumour arose during the last day of the siege, and ran like a heath-fire along the lines to the defence, that the turks had gained admission to the city by this gate. they did, but whether by treachery or their own valour no one knows. they were driven out again, and for a short time longer the emperor's heroism delayed the inevitable. in time a remarkable tradition attached itself to this small gate. the greeks believed that when the city should again be captured, it would be by christians, the first of whom would enter by this postern. the turks, of course, had heard of this tradition, so when [illustration: the palace of the porphyrogenitus, from the fosse. this is the palace of the porphyrogenitus, of him born in the purple.] a northern enemy came down upon them, when the slavs rose in their strength and forced the passes of the balkans, they took such precautions as their ardent faith in such superstitions suggested. they pulled down the curtain so that the russians might not enter through the kerko porta, and replaced it by a smaller wall. before we enter by a little doorway through the turkish wall, we will walk along what was once the terrace, and look up at the ruins of this historic palace. there are traces of an archway that seem to have connected the palace with its western flanking tower. it is said that on this archway a balcony rested. possibly a doorway led from the purple chamber on to this balcony, for here the infant prince for whose birth arrangements had been made in that chamber, was held up to overlook the country stretching away into the western provinces, and solemnly proclaimed "cæsar orbi." entering by the doorway in the turkish wall we get a view of this imposing ruin from the foot of a stout tower, the last of that chain of defences built in the theodosian era. the majestic proportions of this building, despite the irregularity of the window openings, are best seen from here; and here again we may notice the remains of yet another balcony and in continuation of the legend, gather that the infant prince took his first view of the city from here, and on this spot was proclaimed "cæsar urbis." to enter the palace of the porphyrogenitus we must walk along a narrow street with the usual little wooden houses on either side. through a narrow entrance and across a yard, which is by some described as a glass factory, because attempts are made here to manufacture bottles out of broken window-panes, a footpath through rank growth leads to our goal. where we are passing was a courtyard which never echoed to the ring of an armed heel, for it was forbidden to awake the daughter of the arch, as echo was picturesquely called by eastern courtiers. historians do not say for certain who it was that built this palace. most of them inclined to the belief that it derived its name and origin from constantine porphyrogenitus, a builder of many castles, and thus would put its date in the tenth century. we would like to reconstruct this oblong building, to rebuild the arches that supported its three storeys, and fill up the gaps that time and impious hands had torn in the mosaic patterns of brick and stone that decorated the exterior. by the aid of imagination we may succeed in this, but not in giving to the interior its former splendour. all we may safely do is to go back [illustration: the palace of the porphyrogenitus, from within the walls. the majestic proportions of this building are best seen from here; and here again we may notice the remains of yet another balcony and, in continuation of the legend, gather that the infant prince took his first view of the city from here, and on this spot was proclaimed "cæsar urbis."] to those days when history was made here, take up a strand or two of the city's and the empire's skein of destiny. near here and separated from this palace only by a courtyard stood yet another, a lordlier one, that of blachernæ. this was the usual residence of the imperial family in the fourteenth century, so andronicus iii found the palace of the porphyrogenitus convenient quarters when he came to wrest the sceptre from his grandfather, andronicus ii. the history of this revolt gives some insight into the state of affairs that reigned in the imperial city. andronicus the elder had devoted the best part of his reign to an absorbing interest in the disputes of the greek church. on this account, perhaps, he had failed to appreciate the rising power of the ottoman empire. according to the custom of the palæologi, andronicus associated his son michael with the honours of the purple. michael proved an exemplary cæsar in every respect, and his son, also andronicus, was in time admitted to the dignity of augustus. so there was a triumvirate of cæsars in the imperial purple. but andronicus the younger turned out a spendthrift and a profligate, and matters came to a head when one night he shot his brother manuel in the street. the details of this unsavoury adventure are of no moment, suffice it to relate that the shock of his son's iniquity brought about the death of michael, already ailing, within eight days of the unhappy occurrence. andronicus the elder dispossessed his unruly grandson, who, however, escaped from confinement under pretext of hunting, and raised the standard of revolt in the provinces. during a ruinous period of seven years the quarrel between grandfather and grandson was protracted, till in 1328 andronicus the younger effected his entry into the city by surprise, forced his aged grandfather to retire, and as third monarch of that name usurped the throne. four years after his abdication andronicus the elder died, known to his monastery as monk authoy. another figure played a prominent part within these roofless halls. we have met him before, john cantacuzene, of whom his enemies confessed that of all the public robbers he alone was moderate and abstemious. he resisted all the attempts of andronicus iii to raise him to a seat beside him on the throne, and at that emperor's death became guardian of his infant son, john palæologus. in those days internal peace was not the empire's lot for long, and soon a conspiracy was formed against cantacuzene. anne of savoy, the dowager empress, was persuaded to assert the tutelage of her son, and her female court was bribed to support this claim by the admiral apocaucus. the patriarch, john of apri, a proud and weak old man, joined the conspiracy, and even assumed the claims to temporal power of a roman pontiff; he invaded the royal privilege of red shoes or buskins, placed on his head a mitre of silk or gold, and signed his epistles with hyacinth or green ink. while john cantacuzene was abroad on public service, the conspirators convicted him of treason, proscribed him as an enemy of the church, deprived him of all his fortune, and even cast his aged mother into prison. he was forced to assume the purple, and as rebel emperor endeavoured to resume the charge entrusted to him, the guardianship of john palæologus. but civil war devastated the provinces that yet remained to the empire, and not till apocaucus was murdered by some nobles whom he had imprisoned was peace restored. the negotiations to this end were carried on between the palace of the porphyrogenitus, where cantacuzene had taken up his abode, and the neighbouring residence of empress anne, the palace of blachernæ. the proceedings ended in peace, and the marriage of cantacuzene's daughter to john palæologus. but the sword did not long rust in its sheath. civil war broke out again, and finally john cantacuzene sought refuge in a monastery, where he spent his declining years in a lengthy, if somewhat unprofitable, treatise on the divine light of mount tabor. we must retrace our steps, and, leaving by the doorway we entered, let us cast a glance to northward. the moat ends abruptly, and a curtain projects towards the north-west flanked by towers. this is the wall of manuel comnenus, and so dates from the middle of the twelfth century. other fortifications must have stood here before that time to guard the palace of blachernæ, but little trace remains either of these or of the palace itself. yet here behind these walls, or those that they replaced, the dynasty of the comnenians lived out their day, and they deserve a word or two of recognition if only on account of anne, the daughter of the first alexius, and manuel the builder of this wall. of these, the former aspired to fame as historian of her father's reign, but the modicum of truth which is contained in the voluminous records she compiled is much obscured by elaborate affectations of windy rhetoric. no doubt the description of her father's character was dictated by filial piety--it stands in sharp contrast to the last words that that emperor heard from his wife irene: "you die as you have lived--a hypocrite!" [illustration: tower of manuel comenus. this is the wall of manuel comnenus, and so dates from the middle of the twelfth century.] the empress irene tried to exclude her surviving sons, and to place the power of government in the fair hands of anne, but the order of male succession was asserted by those able to enforce it. the fair historian, anne comnena, no doubt in order to add one more elaborate chapter to the high-sounding verbiage with which she had clothed the history of her time, conspired to poison her brother john; her husband, bryennius, prevented the design and john comnenus reigned in his father's stead. he generously forgave his sister, and no doubt much to the edification of future generations her momentous work continued. in all the history that is recorded by the grim walls that sheltered the city of constantine, there are but few events that leave a pleasant memory, few rays of gladdening light that pierce the turmoil of angry passions, the darkness of sordid details, the strife and anguish that largely composed the life of the city byzas founded. and, alas! these rare events serve but to make the contrast stronger and to intensify the shadows that hang about these ruined palaces and ramparts. we have traced the history of constantinople through its walls up to the time when they could no longer hold out against the assaults of those who now carry on the imperial traditions. but there are yet places left for us to visit--they have their tales to tell, and of all that remains to-day, the story of the reign of john comnenus is the pleasantest. in him the empire found a ruler whose days were never darkened by conspiracy or rebellion, save for that one instance already mentioned. his nobles feared him, his people loved him, and he had no need to punish or forgive any personal enemy. in his private life he emulated marcus aurelius: he was frugal and abstemious, severe with himself and indulgent to others. he proved successful in his warlike measures against the turks, and astonished his latin allies by the skill and prowess of the greeks when engaged in a holy war. he led his troops from constantinople to antioch and aleppo, there a slight wound in his hand, received when hunting, proved fatal, and cut short his prosperous reign. the imposing towers before us stand in their great strength as a monument to one of whose bodily strength romantic tales are told. manuel, the youngest son, succeeded his father, john comnenus, and was acclaimed victorious by the veteran troops that followed him from the turkish wars back to constantinople. his reign of thirty-seven years is a record of warfare in many distant lands. by land and sea, against the turks on the plains of hungary and along the coasts of italy and egypt, this emperor led his troops to victory. on one occasion when marching against the turks, he posted an ambuscade in a wood, and then rode boldly forward in search of perilous adventure, accompanied only by his brother isaac and the faithful axuch. he routed eighteen horsemen, but the numbers of the enemy increased, and manuel to rejoin his army had to cut his way through 500 turkish horsemen. of his exploits at sea mention may be made of an incident in the siege of corfu. manuel's ship towing a captured galley passed through the enemy's fleet. the emperor stood on the high poop, opposing a large buckler to the volley of darts and stones, and could not have escaped death had not the sicilian admiral enjoined his men to respect the person of a hero. many and remarkable are the stories of the emperor manuel's exploits, but the end of his career saw his fortunes wane, his last campaign against the turks ended in disaster, he lost his army in the mountains of pisidia, and owed his own safety only to the generosity of the sultan. the wall that manuel comnenus built stands high, and from its lofty battlements the sentries who held their watch here must have seen many strange and stirring sights. one day in the year 1203, when alexius iii angelus was emperor, the watchers on the tower looked down upon a host of glittering lances and waving pennants, on white tents and the pavilions of haughty nobles, for the chivalry of the west was encamped before the city walls, and these were the hosts of the fourth crusade. the re-conquest of jerusalem and the safety of the holy places were the motives that impelled this army towards the east, and no doubt many of them were as sincere in their desire to attain beatitude in this manner as their precursors on similar expeditions had been. an illiterate priest, fulk de neuilly, followed in the footsteps of peter the hermit, and roamed over europe inciting kings, princes and knights to arm for a holy war and march in their strength to redeem the sacred places of their creed. his success was nearly as great as that of the first missioner to the crusades, and innocent iii as soon as he ascended to the chair of st. peter, supported fulk de neuilly, and proclaimed the obligation of a new crusade in italy, france and germany. fulk paid a visit to richard of england to induce him to join in the adventure. that gallant monarch declined, no doubt quite satisfied with the glory gained in his first crusade, and possibly still reminiscent of its many misfortunes; in fact, the meeting seems to have ended in an unseemly wrangle. at any rate richard of england was not to be moved, and in the light of his former experiences we cannot altogether blame him. the propaganda met with considerable success elsewhere in europe, princes and knights flocked to the standard of the cross on its eastward march. a valiant noble, jeffrey of villehardouin, marshal of champagne, who wielded the pen as well as the sword, has left on record the names of those that followed this adventure; there was thibaut, count of champagne, with his hardy bands of saracens from navarre; louis, count of blois and chartres, like thibaut, a nephew of the kings of england and of france. simon de montfort, who had already expressed his devotion to the roman church by cruelly persecuting the albigenses, also joined the host, and a brother-in-law of thibaut, baldwin, count of flanders, with his brother henry and many knights assumed the cross at bruges. the leaders of this fourth crusade, unlike their predecessors, gave evidence of some consideration for the minor details of a campaign. instead of rolling like a vast stream across europe, helping themselves to what they wanted in the name of the cross, gathering strength in numbers and losing it in cohesion, these new crusaders held a counsel. between the solemn ratification of vows offered by these pious warrior pilgrims before the altar and the jousts and tournaments which were never wanting when two or three knights were gathered together, time was actually found to consider ways and means and debate on the many details that the planning of a big campaign entails. as a result of these deliberations, six deputies, the historian villehardouin among them, proceeded to venice, then the strongest maritime power in the mediterranean sea, to solicit her assistance in providing sea transport. the six ambassadors were hospitably received by dandolo, the aged doge whom we have seen before, standing in full armour on the high poop of his galley in the sea of marmora. negotiations proceeded with all the gravity warranted by the occasion, and before long the doge was entitled by the representatives of the republic to make known the terms under which venetian aid could be secured. the crusaders should assemble at venice on the feast of st. john in the following year. preparations could by then have been made for the conveyance of 4,500 knights and their squires and horses along with 20,000 infantry, and during a term of nine months they should be supplied with provisions, and transported to whatsoever coast "the service of god and christendom" should require. the pilgrims should pay a sum of 85,000 marks of silver before their departure, and all conquests by sea and land were to be equally divided between the confederates. the republic agreed to join the armament with a squadron of fifty galleys, and how valiantly they bore themselves was revealed to us when we watched the naval pageant from the asiatic coast of the sea of marmora. notwithstanding the liberality displayed by the leaders of the crusade, the full amount due by agreement to the venetians could not be raised, so that astute republic requisitioned the services of the crusaders in their own interests to reduce some revolted cities in dalmatia. the crusaders sailed for zara and regained that city for the venetian republic. this led to some serious disagreement between the venetians and their pilgrim allies, and the pope even went to the length of excommunicating the victors of zara. pope innocent had designs of his own, only remotely connected with the object of the crusade, and this movement gave him a welcome opportunity of furthering his plans. he intended to re-establish the power of the vatican at constantinople, and fortune had placed a useful instrument in his power. in the camp of the crusaders was young alexius, son of isaac angelus. alexius iii, when he had deposed his brother isaac, and deprived him of his eyesight, allowed young alexius to escape unharmed. the catholic princes, the leaders of the crusade, espoused the cause of the lawful heir to the eastern empire, and as a reward for their services alexius had promised that he and his father would restore the supremacy of rome over the eastern church. the crusaders landed at chalcedon, and from scutari sailed into the golden horn. the sentries on the wall saw these steel-clad warriors land their gaily-caparisoned steeds from the flat-bottomed boats in which they had crossed. what were their feelings when they saw 70,000 of their own troops turn and flee, led by their emperor, before the invaders had found time to mount or couch their lances? then followed lengthy negotiations between the latin camp and the palace of blachernæ, then a siege, and swarms of franks scaling the walls that manuel comnenus built--and in the silence of the night that followed, when the assailants had been beaten back, a whispered rumour ran along the ramparts and grew into a sullen roar--the emperor alexius had fled. the distance of time dims the awful realities that shook the foundations of the imperial city during the few centuries that passed before the turks made their [illustration: gate of the bootmakers, or the crooked gate. egri kapoussi, formerly the gate of kaligaria--the bootmakers' quarter. to-day this quaint old gateway is seldom used, the industry that gave it a name is dead; dead warriors rest under the cypress-trees that throw their slender shadows over the tortuous uneven path.] victorious entry. as in a glass darkly we see the blind and aged emperor isaac taken from his prison to occupy the throne for a short space, the pathetic figure of his son alexius, fourth of that name, who reigned not a year, to die by the hand of an assassin. a shorter reign followed, that of another alexius, called ducas, who in his turn made way for the crusaders, and a latin dynasty ruled over the destinies of constantinople. six latin and four nicæan emperors occupied the throne of cæsar for the brief period of sixty years, until in 1260 michael palæologus restored the empire of the greeks. two gates pierce these walls, egri kapoussi, formerly the gate of kaligaria--the bootmakers' quarter. no doubt in former days this gate, so near the palace walls of blachernæ, was much frequented. the walls here were submitted to a determined attack during the last siege, but the ordnance of that day was not able to effect a breach, and the guns were removed to batter against the gate of st. romanus. to-day this quaint old gateway is seldom used, the industry that gave it a name is dead; dead warriors rest under the cypress-trees that throw their slender shadows over the tortuous, uneven path that leads to this once populous quarter. the high walls and towers that guarded this place have seen other watchers, who, with heavy hearts and weary, straining eyes, gazed out into the darkness. for here constantine ix and phrantzes the historian, his friend, saw the dawn creep up out of the east, lighting up the turkish camps and revealing the reason of those ominous sounds that had disturbed the stillness of the night. one of those watchers never lived to see another sunrise. passing fair is the view from this point. from immediately before the walls the country fades away into the west in easy undulations, the gentle curves of a distant ridge broken here and there by a cypress taller than his upstanding fellows. away where the golden horn, now gleaming silver in the fading light, turns to northward to merge into the sweet waters of europe, the banks are dedicated to the dead, and here again the sombre cypress keeps his watch. at the foot of the hill, only its tapering minarets showing above the dense mass of foliage, is a holy place of islam, the mosque and sanctuary of eyub occupying the site of a church and monastery dedicated to ss. cosmos and damianus. bohemund, the italo-norman count of tarentum, lodged here while the crusaders negotiated with alexius i. a gate led to this sanctuary and it was named after a sheet of water by the golden horn, called the silver lake. the watchers on the tower above saw young andronicus go forth with hounds and falcons, to return with a rebel army behind him, and to fill up that dark page of history we have already quoted. from here, again, the sentinel would have reported the advent of john cantacuzene with an army, to reason sternly with the empress anna and the admiral apocaucus. a plain, now overbuilt, stretched from the foot of these walls along the golden horn. here crum, the bulgarian king, whose barbaric rites we witnessed at the golden gate, was asked to confer with the emperor leo, the armenian. the monarchs agreed to meet unarmed, but leo intended treachery, which crum suspected, and he hastily withdrew; and though pursued by the arrows of the ambushed archers, he escaped, wounded in several places. another bulgarian king, of whom mention has been made, met the eastern emperor on this plain when simeon and romanus lecapenus concluded peace. now let us proceed on the last stage of our journey down by these walls of manuel comnenus into the plain. high and of enormous strength they are still, for they form here the single line of defence; the ground offered too many obstacles for the erection of an outer rampart, and the highest point of which we are leaving behind us not even a moat was possible. some doubt exists as to whether the wall that leads down towards the golden horn is of a piece with that of manuel comnenus. it differs in construction, and bears many inscriptions relating to the repairs which it needed. thus the money which irene, wife of andronicus ii, left at her death, was devoted to these walls by the emperor. john vii palæologus is responsible for other repairs, according to an inscription, which reads as follows (being interpreted)- john palæologus faithful king and emperor of the romans in christ, god, on the second of the month of august of the year 6949 (1441) perchance this was the last occasion on which the walls of constantinople were repaired, until the final siege of the city, when johannes grant, a german engineer in the service of the greeks, under cover of darkness directed his workers to secure the portions of the wall that had suffered most heavily under the fire of turkish ordnance, by such devices as were known in his day, and by the best of all defensive methods, counter attack. we reach the plain below, and find our attention [illustration: wall of palæologian repair. let us proceed--down by these walls. high and of enormous strength they are still, for they form here the single line of defence; the ground offered too many obstacles for the erection of an outer rampart, and at the highest point which we are leaving behind us, not even a moat was possible.] drawn to yet another sombre mass of masonry, peculiar in design, for it has the appearance of two towers joined together. they differ in structure, for whereas one is built of carefully cut stones, and shows courses of brickwork, the other is less regular, and from it here and there marble pillars project like cannon. these are the towers of anemas and isaac angelus, and a counterfort, corresponding in structure to that of the twin towers, juts out in front of them amid the long grass and tangled undergrowth. isaac angelus and his pathetic history are already known to us. anemas gave his name to the second tower because he is said to have been the first prisoner confined within these gloomy walls. he was the descendant of a saracen emir, who defended crete against nicephorus phocas, and was taken prisoner. treated with unusual leniency for those times, he was granted large estates in the neighbourhood of the capital. his son, anemas, was converted to christianity, and distinguished himself in the campaign of john zimisces against the russians, to fall in a personal encounter with swiatoslav, the russian king. but michael anemas, a scion of this family, was drawn into a conspiracy against the emperor alexius comnenus, and imprisoned in this tower. anne comnenus the historian, and her mother, induced alexius to remit the sentence which condemned michael anemas and his brother to loss of eyesight, and after some years they regained their liberty. a formidable dungeon, this tower of anemas, with its narrow, vaulted cells of enormous strength and its narrower passages. others whom we know languished here in chains, among these the emperor andronicus comnenus, who left this prison to die at the hands of his infuriated subjects. another whom we have met, andronicus, the son of john vi palæologus, was confined here by his father. he effected his escape, and in turn imprisoned his father and his brothers manuel and theodore. perhaps the best that can be said of this rebellious son is that he did not act on the advice of bajazet and put his prisoners to death. a gloomy history this strong tower of anemas tells us. a tale of civil war, of tyranny, of deadly family feuds and the endless misery of human weakness when it is invested with some transient semblance of external power. in strong contrast stands out that more rugged tower of isaac angelus. here it is said the varangians, cæsar's bodyguard, had their head-quarters, and through all the gloom that envelopes the history of the later greek empire, the conduct of those troops [illustration: towers of isaac angelus and anemas. a gloomy history this strong tower of anemas tells us. in strong contrast stands out that more rugged tower of isaac angelus.] shines like a beacon light; the race these men sprang from was in its infancy, and they brought to the service of the eastern emperor the unspoilt faith and valour of a youthful nation. the origin of the first varangians is obscure; the name is derived from a teutonic source, fortganger, forthgoers, men who had left their country in quest of adventure. there is reason to suppose that the first varangians to take service with the eastern cæsar were of that norman race who, so long hidden in the darkness of their northern home, suddenly burst forth upon the world as pirates. their sharp-prowed ships first scoured the baltic sea, and landed these adventurous spirits on the shores inhabited by fennic and slavonic races. their arms and discipline commanded respect, and by helping these slavs against their enemies inland, the varangians obtained the mastery over a weaker race, and gave it a succession of strong rulers. these in their turn adapted themselves to their changed circumstances, and finally a scandinavian chief, rurik, established a dynasty that ruled over the northern slavs for many centuries. his descendants in time became one with their subjects and sought to check the recurring inroads of fresh varangians. the sword of these corsairs had raised vladimir to the throne; the riches he had to offer in return for their services proved insufficient, so they accepted his advice and sailed back the way they came. they sallied forth out into the north sea, and made their way to warmer climates. after many encounters with the moors and others who followed the profitable calling of piracy, they found their way to the city of byzas and took service with the emperors of the east. in time the fame of this warrior's eldorado reached other northern countries, and they too sent recruits to fill the gaps that constant warfare had torn in the ranks of the eastern empire's vanguard, the varangians. so from england, so little known to the eastern contemporaries of william the norman that it was held to be the mythical island of thule, came strong-limbed saxons driven from their homes. danes, too, were found amongst this trusted body, and their weighty battle-axes and stout hearts defended the declining roman empire until its death agony on that fateful 29th of may, 1453. the shadows of night are closing upon us, and here and there a light shines out through latticed windows as we turn in towards the town. the day's work is done, and here and there a figure moves silently along to disappear down some dark alley. the narrow streets are almost deserted. this is the quarter of the phanar that we are now approaching. in former days a lighthouse [illustration: old house in the phanar. here and there we may see an old house whose stout walls have resisted all attempts at destruction.] stood some way further on and guided the ships that had found their way into the golden horn after sunset. here and there we may see an old house whose stout walls have resisted all attempts at destruction, perhaps dating back to those days when the now ruined palace of blachernæ was a royal residence. perhaps courtiers or high officers of state lived here, but the barred window openings and grim-visaged walls will not reveal their secrets. we have come to our journey's end and must leave these lonely quarters for those haunts frequented by foreigners. so we will walk down to the shore of the golden horn. a caique is in readiness to carry us onward to the bridge of galata. beyond it ships ride at anchor in the stream, or are moored along-side the deserted quays. one or other of those ships will carry our travellers back into the western seas, back to those countries which owe their political existence to the walls that still encircle the city of constantine. the city looms black against the clear sky of a southern night, and the crescent moon draws pale glints of light from the pinnacles of slender minarets. stamboul is wrapt in darkness. on our left the lights of galata and pera shine out, where the western races take their pleasure after the day's work. behind us, by those frowning walls, a slight sound is borne upon the night wind. its voice whispers through the branches of the many cypress-trees. it calls in gentle, insistent tones, and thousands answer by obeying it. they come from out the shadows of the broken walls, they move silently among the tumbled tombstones. silently they mount the ramparts and gaze with serene, far-seeing eyes, out over the sleeping city. greeks of all ages, turks who fell before them, fearless franks, brave normans, and stout-hearted saxons, hold their nocturnal watch. "the oracle spoke true--the city prospers," whispers byzas the founder. "it is well!" "the descendants of the people that i loved are happy and at peace," comes from john comnenus. "it is well!" "the crescent shines upon the capital of a strong empire--the sons of othman rule wisely," murmurs the conqueror mahomed. "it is well!" the frank looks back upon the part he played in the history of this sleeping city. his deeds were not done in vain. "it is well." a silent group looks out over the city. britons who followed as captives in the train of theodosius, normans who had camped outside the city walls under the banner of the cross, saxons and danes who had met them in the field and on the ramparts with their battle-axes. they have followed with eager eyes the history of those that came after them. they saw the red cross of st. george's ensign float above the first ships that queen elizabeth had sent here. they saw that flag extended to denote the union of races that make up their nation, and watched it sail away up the narrow channel of the bosphorus to the crimea. these shades of departed varangians, who fought till their last breath for an expiring cause, for an empire whose sons had lost the art of war, have watched the rise of yet another empire in the west in that dear land they sailed from. they have followed closely the history of that empire, and a sigh goes from them, "is it well?" envoi gentle travellers! our journey is at an end, and nothing remains to author and artist but the pleasant recollection of your company and the kindly interest you were pleased to show. the sun has risen upon another day, but that is no reason why the doings of a previous one should be forgotten. the ships that bear our travellers to sea, or maybe the train on the roumelian railway, will soon break up a very pleasant party. so before we go let us ask you to retain a kindly memory of this journey, and of the city walls that suggested it. we ask it for a particular reason. a rumour is afloat, and has not as yet been contradicted, that these old walls are doomed, behind whose sheltering care europe and the different nations to which you belong worked out their destiny. but for these walls what might the state of europe be to-day? wave after wave of asiatic aggression here spent its fury, until in time the nation that grew up within them lost the power of defence, and accordingly ceased to be. but these walls still stand, if only as relics of an historic and romantic past. and they are doomed. already the pick is at work upon the theodosian walls, near the palace of the porphyrogenitus. the object is to sell the material in order to provide the army of the new turkish empire with means of defence and offence. but these walls have served their purpose, their stones have now no value but that to which their history entitles them. fellow-travellers--it may not be too late, it may yet be possible to save these landmarks that have led us through the maze of history and romance to the present day, where with the best intentions a vigorous young government intends to inaugurate a new era by an act of vandalism. the power of public opinion is great. author and artist suggest it as a means of saving the walls of an imperial city to their friends and fellow-travellers--and so farewell! appendix chronological table [author's note.] in this table are set forth only the dates of events recorded while glancing at the history of the "walls of constantinople." as the book does not profess to be an exhaustive history of constantinople, but rather a reflection of the historic happenings these walls have witnessed--so this table aspires to do no more than guide the reader through past ages with here and there a date as milestone. b.c. 658. byzas founded the city. 479. pausanias defeated the persians at platæa. 450 (about). xenophon born. a.d. 306-337. constantine i, the great, to whom the city owes its present name. 364-378. valens, whose aqueduct still stands. 378-395. theodosius i, the great, who divided the roman empire between his sons arcadius and honorius. 395-408. arcadius, in whose reign the goths laid waste greece. 404. eudoxia, wife of arcadius, died. 408-450. theodosius ii, in whose reign the theodosian walls were built. the greeks fought with success against persians and varani. attila appeared before the walls of constantinople and forced the emperor to pay him tribute. 457-474. leo i. 518-527. justin. 527-565. justinian i, the great. theodora, his wife. 545. bertezena established empire of turks in tartary. 558. turkish embassy to justinian. 610-641. heraclius (who executed phocas and succeeded him). 622. heraclius distinguished himself in the persian war. 626. unsuccessful attempt of the avari on constantinople. 631-641. arabs conquered phoenicia, euphrates countries, judæa, syria, and all egypt. 642. constans obtains the throne. 650. constans murders his brother theodosius. 653. arabs conquered part of africa, cyprus and rhodes. 668. constans died at syracuse. 669. arabs attacked constantinople. 685-695. justinian ii. 695-697. leontius. 597-705. tiberius (apsimar). 705-711. justinian ii (restored by bulgarians). 711-713. phillipicus (bardanes). 717-740. leo iii (the isaurian). 740-775. constantine v (copronymus) wrested part of syria and armenia from the arabs; overcame the bulgarians. 779-797. constantine vi. 797-802. irene. 802-811. nicephorus i forced to pay tribute to the arabs; fell in the war against the bulgarians. 811-813. michael i (rhangabe). 813-820. leo v (the armenian). 820-829. michael ii (put leo v to death, 826). under his reign the arabs conquered sicily and crete. 842-867. michael iii (confined his mother theodora in a convent); he left the government in the hands of his uncle bordas, and was killed by 867-886. basil i (the macedonian). 886-912. leo vi (the wise). 912-958. constantine porphyrogenitus (his mother zoe). 919. romanus lecapenus obliged him to share the throne. 944. constantine and stephanus, sons of romanus i. 958-963. romanus ii. 963. nicephorus ii (phocas) put to death 970. by john zimisces, who carried on an unsuccessful war against the russians. 963-1025. basil ii (bulgaroktonos) vanquished the bulgarians. 1025. romanus iii married zoe and became emperor; she had him executed, and raised 1034. michael iv to the throne. 1041. michael v. 1042. constantine x. 1042. zoe and theodora. 1056-1057. michael vi, dethroned by 1057-1059. isaac comnenus, who became a monk. 1059-1067. constantine xi (ducas), who fought successfully against the uzes; eudocia, his wife, entrusted with the administration 1067-1078. married romanus iv. 1081-1118. alexius (comnenus); crusades commenced in his reign. 1118-1143. john ii (comnenus). 1143-1180. manuel i (comnenus). 1180-1183. alexius ii (comnenus), dethroned by andronicus. 1183-1185. andronicus i, dethroned by his guardian, 1185-1195. isaac angelus; in turn dethroned by his brother. 1195-1203. alexius iii. 1203-1204. alexius iv and his father isaac restored by crusaders. 1204. alexius v (ducas)put alexius iv to death. isaac died at the same time. 1204. the latins conquer the city. 1204-1260. latin emperors (baldwin i died in captivity in bulgaria). 1204-1260. nicæan emperors (they reigned at nicæa as constantinople was in the hands of the latins). 1260-1282. michael viii (palæologus) on restoration of the greek empire. 1282-1328. andronicus ii, who denounced connection with the latin church, which michael viii had restored. 1288. ertoghrul succeeded by othman. 1341-1391. john vi (palæologus). 1342-1355. john v (cantacuzene). 1361. sultan amurath took adrianople. 1376-1379. andronicus iv (palæologus) usurped the throne. 1391-1425. manuel ii. 1396. bajazet besieged constantinople, and defeated an army of western warriors under sigismund near nicopolis. 1402. tamerlane's invasion of turkish provinces in asia saved constantinople. 1425-1448. john vii (palæologus). 1444. amurath ii extorted tribute from john vii 1451. and died at adrianople. 1448-1453. constantine xii (palæologus). 1451-1453. siege of constantinople. 1451-1481. mahomed the conqueror of constantinople. 1481-1512. bajazet ii resigned in favour of 1512-1520. selim i, who murdered his brothers, proclaimed himself champion of orthodoxy and became the first caliph. 1520-1566. solyman i, the great, contemporary of francis i of france, charles v, german emperor. 1526. campaigns against the western nations; hungarians beaten at mohacz. 1529. buda-pesth taken; siege of vienna. 1537. barbarossa, solyman's admiral, conquered combined fleet of emperor, pope and venetians off prevesa. 1553. mustapha, son of solyman, executed in presence and by order of his father, through roxalana's instigation. 1566-1574. selim ii. 1574-1604. mahomed iii; first english embassy sent to the porte. 1617. achmet i sends embassy to france. 1618. mustapha i reigned six months and was deposed. 1644. sir thomas bendish, english ambassador in reign of ibrahim, obtained justice by means of a drastic measure. 1683. sultan mahomed iv; siege of vienna raised by sobieski. 1702. turkey admitted into the european system. 1707. achmet iii allied himself with charles xii of sweden. 1769-1774. panslavism. 1774-1792. mustapha iii. war with catherine of russia. suvarrov defeated the turks--azov, trebizona, silistria and shumea taken by russia. the crimea taken by prince potemkin. 1792-1815. turkey involved in napoleonic wars. 1815-1840. greek rebellion. battle of navarino. czar nicholas waged war with turkey, kars and the dobrutsha taken. 1854-1856. crimean war. 1879. russo-turkish war. 1909. abdul hamid deposed and constitutional government introduced. _richard clay & sons, limited london and bungay._ * * * * * typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: theodosias=> theodosius {pg 49} comunenus=> comnenus {pg 107} encounted=> encountered {pg 208} prevosa=> prevesa {pg 95} turkish harems & circassian homes by mrs. harvey. of ickwell bury. london hurst & blackett. great marlborough street 1871. to the lady elizabeth russell, this little volume is affectionately inscribed. preface. it is hoped by the authoress that this little record of a past summer may recall some pleasant recollections to those who have already visited the sunny lands she attempts to describe; and that her accounts, though they inadequately express the beauty and charm of these distant countries, may interest those who prefer travelling for half-an-hour when seated in their arm-chairs. contents. page chapter i. the city of the sun 1 chapter ii. the hour of prayer 21 chapter iii. sects 40 chapter iv. the harem 54 chapter v. the happy valley 82 chapter vi. an eastern banquet 99 chapter vii. eupatoria 111 chapter viii. sevastopol 125 chapter ix. traces of war 138 chapter x. valley of tchernaia 157 chapter xi. a russian interior 172 chapter xii. circassia 200 chapter xiii. soukoum 214 chapter xiv. circassian men and women 239 chapter xv. a last ride 259 chapter xvi. sinope 271 chapter xvii. storm-clouds 289 turkish harems and circassian homes. chapter i. the city of the sun. it was on a sunny summer morning that an english schooner yacht, that had been tossing about all night on the stormy waves of the sea of marmora, rounded the point opposite scutari, and, gracefully spreading her wings like a white bird, came rapidly on under the influence of the fresh morning breeze, and cast anchor at the entrance of the golden horn. the rattle of the chain had scarcely ceased when up came all the poor sea-sick folk from below, for yachting people can be sea-sick sometimes, whatever may be the popular belief to the contrary. never, perhaps, was a greater babel of tongues heard on board any little vessel. the owner of the yacht, his wife and sister, were english; but there was an italian governess, a french maid, a german bonne, a neapolitan captain, a maltese mate, two children speaking indifferently well most of these languages, and a crew comprising every nation bordering the mediterranean. (this little explanation has been given in excuse for the desultory nature of the few pages that are offered, with much diffidence, to a kind public, as they consist principally of extracts from the journals and letters of the various dwellers on board the claymore.) besides these many tongues that were pouring forth expressions of joy and admiration with a vehemence of gesticulation and an energy of tone unknown in northern lands, two canaries, gifted with the most vigorous lungs and the most indefatigable throats, lifted up their shrill voices to add to the general clamour. all this uproar, however, was but to express the delight every one felt at the unequalled beauty of the scene before them. "veder napoli, e poi morir!" is a well-known saying. put constantinople instead of naples, and the flattering words are equally applicable. constantinople has been so often written about that it is useless to describe its lovely aspect in detail. every one knows that there are minarets and towers rising up, in fairy-like grace, from amid gardens and cypress groves; but "he who would see it aright" should have his first view in all the bright unreality of a sunny summer morning. soon after dawn, in the tender duskiness of the early hours, when the light steals down shyly from the veiled east, and before the business and noise of a great city begin, constantinople is like the sleeping beauty in the wood. a great hush is over everything, broken only when the sun comes up in a blaze of light, flooding sea, earth, and city with a "glory" of life and colour. then from each minaret is heard the voice of the muezzins, as they summon the faithful to prayers. the fairy-like caïques skim in every direction across the waters; and the beautifully-named but dirty and somewhat ugly golden horn is all astir with moving vessels. nearly opposite the yacht was a very handsome building of white greek marble, with an immense frontage to the sea. this is the sultan's palace of dolmé-batché. the wing on the right, where the windows are closely barred and jealously latticed, contains the apartments of the ladies of the imperial harem. behind the palace, stretching up the hill and crowning its summit, are seen the white, handsome houses that form the fashionable suburb of pera. here ambassadors and bankers have large, comfortable hotels; here, too, are the european shops, and the promenade for the christian world. but the part to see--the part that interests--is, of course, the old turkish quarter, stamboul; for in stamboul are turks in turbans, and in stamboul are real turkish houses. more tumble-down places it would be difficult to find. a man had need to be a fatalist to live in a house of which all the four walls lean at different angles. a fire, instead of a misfortune, must be a real blessing, were it only to bring some air into the dirty, narrow, ill-savoured streets. the dirt, the narrowness, and the wretchedly bad pavement, combined with another trouble, the multitude of dogs lying about, make walking, pain and grief to the newly-arrived foreigner. besides these disagreeables, there is the danger of being crushed flat against a wall by human beasts of burden called "hamals" or porters. it is really frightful to see men so laden. as they come staggering along, bent double beneath their loads, at every few steps they utter a loud cry, to warn passers-by to get out of their way. it is, however, by no means an easy matter to avoid them. the streets are so narrow and tortuous that, after jumping hastily aside to escape one monstrous package coming up the road, the unhappy stranger is nearly knocked over by another huge load coming down. dogs' tails, too, are always lying where dogs' tails should not be; and in the agitation and anxiety caused by incessantly darting from side to side of the street to avoid the groaning "hamals," it is exceedingly difficult to avoid treading occasionally on one of these inconvenient tails, and then the whole quarter resounds with hideous howlings. the bazaars have been so well and so fully described that it is needless to say much about them. our first sensation on seeing them was, perhaps, that of a little disappointment; but after a time we better appreciated the picturesque beauty and richness of colouring that the long dark lanes of little shops presented. as a rule, few pretty things, excepting shoes and slippers, are exposed on the stalls. rugs, carpets, shawls, and jewels are generally kept behind the shops in cupboards and warehouses. turquoises were very abundant and low in price, but all we saw were of inferior quality, and the large stones had some flaw. pretty melon-shaped caskets are made in silver to hold cakes, and the silver rose-water bottles are charming both in design and workmanship. foreigners are speedily attracted to the drug bazaar by the odd mixture of pungent, pleasant, and disagreeable odours that proceed from it. here the scene is like a living picture of the "arabian nights' tales." like amine in the story of "the three calenders," many a veiled figure attended by her black slave may be seen making her purchases of drugs and spices of the venerable old doctors, who, with spectacles on nose, and huge musty folios at their side, look the very personification of wisdom, equally able to administer medicines and to draw the horoscopes of their patients. the arms bazaar is also attractive, not only for the magnificence and value of its contents, but from the picturesque beauty of the quaint, dark, lofty old building in which the richly-decorated weapons are displayed. at first, the immense amount of bargaining that is required before any purchase can be effected is very amusing; but after some weeks it becomes tiresome, even to people who have had many years' experience in italy. if anything of importance has to be bought, many hours, sometimes many days, elapse between the opening of the business and its conclusion. the friends of both parties cordially assist in the affair with the utmost force of their lungs, and an amount of falsehood is told by christians as well as turks that ought to lie heavily on the consciences of all; but "do in turkey as the turks do," is a maxim which all appear to accept, and so no one dreams of speaking the truth in a constantinople bazaar. when the struggle is at its height, coffee is brought, which materially recruits the strength of all concerned, and should the affair be very important, a friendly pipe is smoked; then everyone sets to work again, vowing, protesting, denying. the seller asserts by all that is holy that he will lose money, but that such is the love he feels for the stranger and the frank, that he will sell the article to him for such and such a price (probably four times as much as the sum he means to take), and at length, after an exhausting afternoon, the foreigner retires triumphant, bearing away with him the coveted shawls or carpets, and not having paid perhaps more than double the money they are worth. as we remained on the bosphorus for a considerable part of the summer, we were enabled not only to see at our ease the many objects of interest to be found in constantinople and the lovely country that surrounds it, but also to gratify the great wish we had of becoming somewhat acquainted with turkish life, and of learning something of the realities of turkish homes. every year it is more difficult for passing travellers to gain admittance to the harems. of course the members of the principal families object to be made a show of, and equally of course the wives of the diplomatists residing in constantinople are unwilling to intrude too frequently upon the privacy of these ladies. a turkish visit also entails a somewhat serious loss of time, as it generally lasts from mid-day to sunset. when royal and other very great ladies arrive at constantinople, certain grand fêtes are given to them in different official houses, but these magnificent breakfasts and dinners do not give europeans a better knowledge of turkish homes than a dinner or ball at buckingham palace or the tuileries would give a turk respecting the nature of domestic life in england or france. the wives of several diplomats had given us letters of introduction to many of their friends at constantinople, and so kindly were these responded to by the turkish ladies that we found ourselves received at once with the greatest cordiality, and before we left the shores of the bosphorus had made friendships that we heartily trust we may be fortunate enough to renew at some future day. after a stay of several months, our conviction was that it would be difficult to find people more kind-hearted, more simple-mannered, or more sweet-tempered than the turkish women. the servants, or slaves, are treated with a kindness and consideration that many christian households would do well to imitate. they seem quite part of the family, and in fact a woman slave does belong to it should she have a child, as she then is entitled to her freedom, and her master is bound to accord her certain privileges which give her a position higher than that of a servant, though she does not attain the dignity of being a wife. the greatest punishment we have heard of, and which is only inflicted on viragos whose tongues set the whole harem in a flame, is to sell (or what is still worse) to give them away to a family of inferior rank. this is considered a frightful indignity, and one which, when seriously threatened, usually suffices to still the veriest shrew. of course a jealous and perhaps neglected wife may occasionally make a pretty young odalisk's life somewhat uncomfortable, but harsh usage and cruelty are almost unknown; and in general the wife (for now there is seldom more than one) is quite satisfied if her authority is upheld, and if she remain the supreme head of the household. if content on these matters, she rarely troubles herself about the amusements of her husband. a turkish woman also rapidly becomes old, and after a few years of youth finds her principal happiness in the care of her children, in eating, in the gossip at the bath, and in the weekly drive to the valley of the sweet waters. a turkish wife, whatever her rank, is always at home at sunset to receive her husband, and to present him with his pipe and slippers when, his daily work over, he comes to enjoy the repose of his harem. in most households also the wife superintends her husband's dinner, and has the entire control over all domestic affairs. the greatest charm of the turkish ladies consists in the perfect simplicity of their manners, and in the total absence of all pretence. when we knew them better, the childlike frankness with which they talked was both amusing and pleasant; but many of them nevertheless were shrewd and intelligent, and had they received anything like adequate education, would have been able to compete with some of the most talented of their european sisters. as mothers, their tenderness is unequalled, but their fault here is over-indulgence of the children, who, until ten or twelve years of age, are permitted to do everything they like. many of the ladies whose acquaintance we made showed a remarkably quick ear, and great facility in learning various songs and pieces of music that we gave them. their voices were sweet and melodious, and it was surprising with what rapidity they caught the italian and neapolitan airs that they heard us sing. the great bar to any real progress being made towards their due education, and the enlargement of their minds, is the seclusion in which they live. men and women are evidently not intended to live socially apart, for each deteriorates by the separation. men who live only with other men become rough, selfish, and coarse; whilst women, when entirely limited to the conversation of their own sex, grow indolent, narrow-minded, and scandal-loving. like flint and steel, the brilliant spark only comes forth when the necessary amount of friction has been applied. whatever degree of intimacy may be attained, it is rare that foreigners obtain a knowledge of more than the surface of turkish life and manners. strangers, therefore, should speak with much caution and reserve; but still, even a casual observer must perceive that polygamy and the singular laws regarding succession are productive of innumerable evils amongst the turks. the men, it is said, have but little, if any, love for their offspring. not only do they dislike the expense of bringing up children, but fathers dread having sons who in time may become their most dangerous enemies. in quiet families who live apart from public life the boys have a better chance of being spared. in families of very high rank but few are to be seen, whilst in the households of the relatives of the sultan they are still more rare. infanticide, therefore, prevails extensively; it is hinted at without scruple; in fact, the turks, both men and women, do not hesitate to express their surprise that europeans encumber themselves with large families. in the imperial house, the throne descends in succession to each son of a deceased sultan before any grandson can inherit. this regulation was made in order that the monarch should be the nearest living relative of the prophet. in olden times, therefore, the first act of a sultan on ascending the throne was to get rid of all his brothers by imprisonment or death, not only for the purpose of securing the crown for his own children, but to prevent the risk that might accrue to himself by there being a grown-up successor ready to usurp his place. personal merit used to be a matter of comparative indifference to the turks, provided the sultan were a member of the great imperial family. occasionally therefore monarchs, who had reason to believe themselves much hated by their subjects, have not hesitated to sacrifice their own offspring to their fears. the late sultan, abd-ul-medjid, was thought a wonder of liberality because he permitted his brother, the present sultan, to live. but abd-ul-medjid's heart had been softened by a sorrow he had had in early life. shortly before he came to the throne he had a favourite odalisk, to whom he was much attached. in those days none of the royal princes were permitted to become fathers, and the poor girl fell a sacrifice to the state policy which forbade her becoming the mother of a living child. within a week of her death sultan mahmoud died, and his son ascended the throne. had the odalisk lived and had a son, she would have enjoyed the rank of first "kadun" to the reigning monarch. the sultan's rank is so elevated--his position is so far above that of every other mortal--that there is no woman on earth sufficiently his equal to enable him to marry her. he has, therefore, no legal wife, but his ladies are called "kaduns," or companions, and the mother of his eldest son is always chief kadun, a position that gives her many advantages. these ladies are not called sultanas, for only the princesses of the blood-royal enjoy that title, but the mother of the reigning sovereign is named sultan-validé. occasionally, when there is a subject whom the sultan wishes especially to honour, the favoured pasha has one of the monarch's daughters or sisters given to him in marriage; but this great distinction is sometimes the cause of much sorrow, and uproots much domestic happiness, as all other wives must be sent away, and the children of such marriages equally banished, before the royal bride will condescend to enter the pasha's harem. even after marriage, the royal lady will sometimes insist upon retaining all the privileges of her rank, and in that case the husband becomes the veriest slave imaginable, never daring to enter the harem unless summoned by the princess, and when there often obliged to remain standing while receiving the orders of his imperial and imperious wife. f---pasha, though his ambition was gratified by becoming the brother-in-law of the sultan, paid somewhat dearly, if reports be true, for the honour of this royal alliance, as the princess was said to be a lady of uncertain temper, or rather of a very certain temper, as charles dickens described it. at any rate f---pasha's heart clung to the forsaken wife and children of his humbler and perhaps happier days; and sometimes in the dusk of the evening a small, undecorated caïque, containing a man closely muffled up, might be seen darting swiftly across the bosphorus from the palace of the lordly pasha to the remote quarter of scutari, where, in a humble house in a back street, were hid away the poor deserted wife and her little children. all, therefore, is not gold that glitters in the lives of the members of the imperial family, and the state policy that ordains there shall not be too many heirs near the throne often wrings the heart and embitters the existence of many of the tender-hearted princesses. although the men probably accept the necessities of this policy with comparative indifference, the mothers do not so easily resign themselves to the loss of their infants, and many a sad story gets whispered about of the grievous struggles some of the poor creatures have made to preserve their little ones from the impending doom. the death of one royal lady that took place while we were at constantinople, was hastened by the grief she had gone through by thus losing her only boy. when her marriage took place, she had obtained the promise that all her children were to be spared. in due time a boy was born, and the father received an intimation that the child had better "cease to be." the sultana, however, claimed the fulfilment of the promise that had been made her, and watched and guarded the little fellow most rigorously. the sultan's word being inviolable, it was not possible to break it openly, but the mother was aware of the jealousy that was created by the privilege accorded to her, and knew that the child's life was in constant peril. it is said that attempts were made both to poison and to drown him, but these cruel designs were frustrated by the vigilance of his mother, who never suffered the child to be absent from her. when the boy was between two and three years old, two more of the sultan's daughters married, and many magnificent fêtes were given on the occasion. the elder sister was of course present, accompanied as usual by her little son; but one day in the crowd the child disappeared, and has never since been heard of. although the poor mother had another child, a girl, she never held up her head again after the disappearance of her boy, and actually pined away and died from grief at his loss. this is not a solitary instance of the sorrows of royal turkish ladies. as we became more intimate with the inhabitants of the harem, and were able to understand and express ourselves a little better, our friends made themselves very merry at the expense of some of our frank customs. few of our habits appeared to them more ludicrous than that of the men so incessantly raising their hats. when quarrelling, it is a common mode of abuse to say, "may your fatigued and hated soul, when it arrives in purgatory, find no more rest than a giaour's hat enjoys on earth!" the turkish language is rich and euphonious, and is capable of so much variety of expression that it is remarkably well adapted to poetry. the verses we occasionally heard recited had a rhythm that was exceedingly agreeable to the ear. though improvements do not march on in turkey with giant strides, still progress is being made surely, though slowly; and many of the turks, besides being well educated in other respects, now speak italian, english, and french with much fluency. some of the ladies, also, are beginning to learn these languages, although most of them, excepting those very few who have been abroad, are too shy to venture to speak in a foreign tongue. the sultan's mother--the sultan-validé--was a very superior woman, and did much good service towards promoting education. amongst other of her excellent deeds, she founded a college for the instruction of young candidates for public offices. there are now in constantinople medical, naval, and agricultural schools, all well attended, and fairly well looked after. for the women, private tuition is of course their only means of learning, and not only is the supply of governesses very limited, but their abilities are in general of a very mediocre description. unless in very superior families, a little--a very little arabic, to enable them to read, though not to understand, the koran, working, knitting, and perhaps a slight acquaintance with french and music, is deemed amply sufficient knowledge for daughters to acquire. chapter ii. the hour of prayer. there is much that is both grand and poetical in many of the practices of the mohammedan religion; and few things strike the stranger more than the frequent calls to prayer that resound at certain hours of the day from every minaret of the city. the formula used is simple, but heart-stirring: "allah akbar! allah akbar! great god! great god! there is no god but god! i declare that mohammed is the apostle of god! o great redeemer! o ruler of the universe! great god! great god! there is no god but god." this is chanted by the muezzin in a loud but musical voice as he walks slowly around the minaret, thus summoning from every portion of the globe the faithful to join him in holy prayer. at sunrise, at mid-day, at three o'clock, and again at nine, the sacred cry re-echoes above the city, and every true believer as it reaches his ear prostrates himself with his face towards mecca, exclaiming: "there is no power, no might, but in god almighty." all who can, perform their devotions in the mosques, although earnest prayer is quite as efficacious when made in a house or by the road-side. one friday, having provided ourselves with the necessary firman, we repaired to santa sophia, and arrived there a few minutes before the hour of mid-day prayer. franks are now admitted into the mosque, but have to put on slippers over their boots, that they may not defile the exquisite cleanliness of the floor. as the service was about to begin, we went up to one of the galleries, and from thence had a good general view of the interior. nothing could be more simple. there was as little decoration as would be found in a low-church protestant chapel. a few ostrich eggs and some large candelabra hung from the roof, but all the christian paintings and ornaments have been destroyed or defaced. the figures and the six wings of the famous cherubim can still be seen faintly traced on the dome, but the faces of the angels have been covered with golden plates, as the turks interpret very literally the commandment against idolatry. although there was but little to see in the mosque itself apart from its historical associations, the vast assemblage of worshippers that nearly filled its spacious area was most interesting to behold. stamboul (in which quarter is santa sophia) is now principally inhabited by old-fashioned turks, and by large colonies of circassians. many of the worshippers, therefore, wore the flowing robe and stately turban now nearly banished from the more fashionable parts of the town. the circassians also were habited in their picturesque national costume, and it would be impossible to see anywhere men more dignified or noble in appearance than these poor exiles. the service is impressive from its grand simplicity. as the hour of noon is proclaimed, the imaun places himself before a small niche called the mihrab, that points towards mecca, and in a loud voice proclaims, "allah akbar! allah akbar!" the congregation arise, respond with the same words, and the cry seems, like a mighty wave, to roll backward and forward through the vast space. every man then turns his eyes humbly to the ground as the imaun recites the fatiha or lord's prayer: "in the name of the most merciful god; praise be to god the lord of all creatures, the most merciful, the lord of the day of judgment. thee do we worship, and of thee do we beg help, direct us in the right way. direct us in the way of those to whom thou hast been gracious; not of those against whom thou art incensed, nor of those who go astray. ameen, ameen!" the congregation then prostrate themselves repeatedly in acknowledgment of the almighty's power and might. a chapter of the koran is read, followed by more prostrations, with another prayer in which the worshippers join. then the imaun calls out in a loud voice that each man is to make his private prayer, and the solemn silence and perfect quiet that ensues is most impressive. prayers were now over, and those who wished retired. the remainder approached nearer a small pulpit into which another imaun mounted, who, seated cross-legged on a cushion, commenced an exposition of some portion of the koran. no women had hitherto been present during the service, but a few now entered and seated themselves behind the men. when we walked round the mosque to examine it in detail, we were shown the mark said to have been made by the hand of sultan mahmoud when he placed it upon one of the great columns in token that he took possession of the stronghold of the christian faith. as the spot indicated, however, is at least fifteen feet from the ground, we permitted ourselves to doubt the accuracy of the statement. after leaving santa sophia we passed through the largest square in constantinople, called ak' meidan, or the "place of meat." here it was that the janissaries were put to death by the orders of sultan mahmoud. this wholesale massacre, fearful as it was, and cruel as it seemed, nevertheless delivered turkey from one of its greatest scourges, for such was the rapacity, the cruelty, and the overbearing insolence of these famous troops, that no man's life or property was safe for an hour, and the whole country groaned under a tyranny more oppressive than any it had ever known. after santa sophia, the finest mosque in constantinople is that of sultan ahmed. it is a large and handsome building; its six tall, graceful minarets giving much beauty to the exterior, whilst the interior is chiefly remarkable for the eleven gigantic columns that support the roof. the mosque possesses some very fine korans all richly bound in velvet, some of them even encrusted with pearls and precious stones. there is also a magnificent collection of jewelled cups that have been presented by various sultans and by many rich pashas. when we issued forth from the cool freshness of the shady mosque, the burning glare of the sun seemed doubly oppressive. we were thankful even to climb into the little telega that was awaiting us; fleas and tight squeezing seeming slight evils compared with the scorching heat and blinding vividness of the sun's rays. when we halted at the beautiful fountain of ahmed the third, never did water and marble look more delicious and refreshing. this celebrated fountain is one of the most beautiful little buildings in constantinople. it is an octagon made of white marble, the projecting roof extending far beyond the walls. where gilt lattice-work has not been let into the sides they are covered with inscriptions in gold letters, extolling the virtues of the treasure it contains; for the waters of the fountain of ahmed are said to excel in freshness and purity even those of the holy well of the prophet at mecca, and have been in many poems compared to the sacred fount whose eternal spring has its rise in paradise itself. on a little marble slab outside the building are arranged rows of brass cups full of the fresh water so precious to the hot and weary passenger in constantinople. as we lingered in the grateful shade, thankful to escape, even for a few minutes, from the scorching heat, two poor hamals came staggering down the street, bent nearly double beneath their terrible loads. with almost a groan of relief they came beneath the shelter of the projecting roof, and, dropping their packs, seated themselves on the fresh, cool marble pavement. it was now three o'clock, and, pouring a few cups of water over their hands and feet, they prostrated themselves towards mecca, and remained an instant in silent prayer. these poor fellows, notwithstanding their galling toil, are a merry, contented race of people. from dawn to sunset they work like beasts of burden, and are satisfied with food that would kill an english workman in a week. our two neighbours each pulled a very small bit of black bread from his pocket, got a slice of melon from an adjacent fruit stall, and this slender fare, washed down by a few cups of water, made their dinner for the day. the repast, slight as it was, was eaten with a cheerfulness and satisfaction that might have been envied by many a gourmand. at sunset, however, they feel themselves amply repaid for the fatigues of the day if they can but gain enough to indulge in an infinite number of cups of the strongest coffee, which, with the soothing pipe, gives them strength to sustain their prodigious toil. one ought to visit the east to appreciate, to its full extent, the blessing of an abundance of fresh and pure water. no wonder that the prophet says that he who bestows the treasure of a fountain on his fellow-men shall be sustained by the supporting hand of the angel of mercy as he traverses the perilous bridge made of a single hair, by which alone the gates of paradise can be reached. fresh springs of water, also, are doubly dear to the hearts of the faithful, as by the direct miracle of sending water in the wilderness was the life of ishmael saved when sarai succeeded in having the child and his mother hagar banished from the tents of abraham. wandering far into the recesses of the desert, the small bottle of water with which she had been provided speedily became empty, and the sorrowing and forsaken woman found herself in the terrible wilderness alone, and far from the aid of man. she placed her hapless infant beneath some shrubs, and, retiring to a distance that she might not see the little creature die, the unhappy mother lifted up her voice and wept. but when was the almighty deaf to the cry of the afflicted and oppressed? he hears when men's ears and hearts are closed; and, swift as thought, the angel of compassion, that watches day and night at the foot of god's throne, sped from his heavenly post and touched the barren earth. the faint flutter of the angel's wings roused the poor mother from her grief: she turned and beheld, gushing brightly from the rock, the stream whose crystal waters brought salvation to herself and to her child. although it is the custom to inveigh energetically against the folly of seeing too many sights at once, yet old travellers know full well that no town is really enjoyable until all the wonders of it have been visited. then, and not till then, is there rest for mind and body, as, all necessary sights seen, the traveller can seek again the especial objects of his fancy, and in peace and ease make more intimate acquaintance with the scenes of nature, or of art, that have the most charm for him. most people, probably, will acknowledge that the former have a considerable supremacy over the latter in constantinople. there are no picture-galleries, and, excepting some of the mosques, a few palaces, and the seraglio, there are few buildings to interest a lover of architecture. the seraglio, however, is well worth a visit, for, though neither grand, nor beautiful, it is interesting in many ways; and the position it occupies on rising ground at the entrance of the golden horn (thus commanding the bosphorus both east and west) makes the views from its gardens quite unequalled in beauty. the summer was unusually hot, so that it was often quite an effort to tear ourselves away from the cool rooms and delightful garden of the embassy at therapia, where we were staying, and undertake a regular afternoon of sight-seeing, especially also as it was necessary to go to stamboul, or pera, in one of the hot little steamers that ply incessantly up and down the bosphorus. one intensely hot day, however, we set off for the seraglio, and the thermometer being at any number of degrees, and the deck of the steamer so crowded that there was barely standing room, we arrived at the gate of the palace in a very exhausted state. when we entered the first court therefore, and found ourselves under the shade of a gigantic plane-tree, a faint breeze every now and then rustling amongst the leaves, the change was so pleasant that we thought we would give up sight seeing, and stay there till night. not only was the cool shade very grateful to our feelings, but the pretty scene before us was very pleasant to the eyes. beneath the tree was a small fountain, its stream trickling into a shallow marble basin, and on its brink were seated groups of gaily-dressed women, chattering merrily as they ate melon and sweetmeats. having never been in spain, we are ignorant of the witching grace bestowed upon the fair or unfair spaniard by the magic folds of the mantilla; but not having had that good fortune, we all agreed that no head-dress is so becoming to the female face as the turkish veil, worn as it is arranged at constantinople. great art and much consideration are bestowed upon the arrangement of the folds; and in this respect a lady of constantinople is as much superior to her eastern compeers as a "lionne" in paris would be above her provincial rivals. so coquettishly is the transparent muslin folded over the nose and mouth, so tenderly does it veil the forehead, that the delicate cloud seems but to heighten and increase each charm. far, very far is it from hiding the features from the profaning gaze of man, as was so savagely ordained by mohammed. nose, mouth, and forehead being thus softly shadowed, the great luminous eyes shine out with doubled brilliancy and effect. it is some consolation to frank ladies to know that, excepting that never-to-be-sufficiently praised veil, turkish out-door costume is absolutely hideous. a large loose cloak called a "feredje" is thrown over the in-door dress, and this is so long that it has to be gathered up in front when the wearer walks, thus giving her the appearance of a moving bag or bundle. the huge, unshapely yellow boots also give a very ungainly appearance. some of the fashionable ladies, however, are discarding these ugly over-alls, and are adopting french boots without heels. near the wall were drawn up "arabas" waiting for the ladies, and very magnificent "turn-outs" they were. an araba is a native carriage that is much used by women, as it easily contains eight or ten persons. in shape it is something between a char-à-banc and a waggon, but is without springs. it is generally very gaily decorated and painted, and is comfortably cushioned inside. the top is covered with a thick red, green, or blue cloth that is fringed with gold. the white oxen that draw the carriages are generally beautiful creatures, and are also brilliantly adorned with red trappings and tassels, and have sometimes their foreheads painted bright pink or blue. after a time our exhausted bodies became somewhat refreshed, and our crushed minds began to revive, and to face more courageously the duties of the day; so at last, summoning a strong resolution, we rushed across the hot court and over another burning "place," where the gravel felt as if it had been baked in an oven, and found ourselves in the imperial armoury. it was formerly an old chapel, and the remains of a great white marble cross at one end seemed to rebuke the desecration it is suffering. there are some magnificent scimitars, made of the finest damascus steel, and some of the hilts and scabbards are of gold, thickly encrusted with precious stones, but beyond these valuable decorations the collection of arms did not appear to be of much value. there are some hundreds of old matchlocks of an obsolete form, and probably of doubtful utility. amongst the curiosities are shown the bells of santa sophia when it was a christian church, the ancient keys of constantinople, and the gorgeous scimitar of sultan mahmoud. the palace is but an assemblage of small buildings joined together by passages, and added to, from time to time, by successive sovereigns. we passed through many large rooms or saloons, very handsome as to size, and richly ornamented with painting and gilding; but we thought them too low for their length, a defect that is increased by the heavy decorations of the ceilings. there was but little furniture--only a few hard chairs besides the usual divan, and sometimes a console table with a french clock upon it. some of the smaller rooms were painted in arabesques, and had portières of blue or red satin over the doors. from the position of the palace, however, the views from the great recesses, full of windows, were quite enchanting. a long low passage, hung with indifferent french and english prints, representing naval battles, storms at sea, &c., led to the bath-rooms--a pretty little set of apartments, with domed ceilings, beautifully fretted and painted. the sultan, however, has long ceased to reside here, and only comes on certain stated occasions, such as after the feast of the bairam. the grand procession from the mosque on that day is a magnificent pageant. a crowd of court pages, resplendent with gold embroidery and brilliant dresses, precede the monarch, who, mounted on a matchless snow-white arabian steed, rides slowly on, surrounded by all the great dignitaries of the empire. the pashas, habited in their state uniforms, are a mass of gold and precious stones, their saddles and the trappings of their horses being equally gorgeous. amidst all the magnificence of this group the sultan alone is dressed with simplicity. he wears a dark frock coat with but little embroidery about it; but on the front of his fez and on the hilt of his sword blaze the enormous diamonds that are the pride of the imperial treasury, while the housings of his arab are almost hidden by the pearls and precious stones by which they are adorned. on arriving at the seraglio the sultan proceeds to the throne-room, and there receives all his great officers of state. ambassadors and foreign ministers are received at other times. the sultan goes in state to the mosque every friday, and when he is then passing through the streets his people may approach him to present petitions. the "temennah," as the ordinary mode of salutation is termed, is a very graceful gesticulation. the hand is bent towards the ground, as if to take up the hem of the superior's garment, and then pressed on the heart, forehead, and lips, to signify both humility and affection. to call the pleasure-grounds that surround the seraglio gardens, is a misnomer according to the european idea of what a garden should be, for there is scarcely a flower to be seen. they are a series of beautiful wildernesses, where the nightingales sing from the tangled thickets, and where each turn in the pathway, each opening amongst the trees, discloses some enchanting view, either of the bright blue bosphorus, or of the misty grey of the distant mountains, or gives a peep of the city itself, whose innumerable domes and minarets rise dazzlingly white above the dark masses of cypress, their gilded crescents flashing brightly in the brilliant sunshine. the soft rustling of the breeze amongst the trees, the sweet scent of the cypresses and flowering shrubs, all invited to a halt, and we seated ourselves on a piece of old wall, and idly watched the caïques as they glided across the bosphorus. near us was a low gateway projecting over the sea, and in olden times its portals never opened, save when the sack was borne forth, that contained sometimes the living body of those odalisks whose conduct had not been sans reproche. in later years it is believed that these unhappy women were taken to a fortress called roumel-hissei, or castles in europe, and there strangled. their bodies, sewn up in a sack, were then thrown into the middle of the stream, where the strength of the current would rapidly carry them out to sea. at any rate, whatever their punishment, the extent of it is never known beyond the walls of the imperial harem. the flocks of little birds that are seen skimming so rapidly and so restlessly over the waves of the bosphorus, are supposed by the turks to be the souls of these unfortunates, who, for their great sin, are for ever condemned to seek in vain the lover who had led them astray. chapter iii. sects. although in olden times the moslems were both cruel and fanatical in forcing their religion upon conquered nations, the turks of to-day are exceedingly tolerant, and unlike the mohammedans of syria and asia minor, who abhor every denomination of christians, permit protestant, roman catholic, and greek chapels to be erected without opposition in the neighbourhood of constantinople. indeed, at this present time, the sheyees, as the followers of ali are called, are hated by the orthodox party, or sünnees, far more intensely than any sects of christians are. however, notwithstanding the religious warfare that rages between the heads of these two great parties, almost every description of worship is tolerated by the government, and there are as many dissenters therefore in constantinople as could be found in london. one of the most popular sects, especially amongst the lower classes, is that of the dancing dervishes, and it is a curious though a somewhat humiliating spectacle, to see by what extraordinary means men seek to do homage to their creator. the dervishes assemble every tuesday and friday, the ceremonial being the same on both days. on arriving at the tekké, or place of worship, we were taken to a large room on the upper storey. a gallery ran round three sides of this apartment, portions of it being partitioned off for the use of the sultan and of turkish ladies. a large circular space is railed off in the centre of the room and reserved for the dervishes. a few women and children, some turkish officers and soldiers, were also seated in the gallery near us. no other foreigners were present besides ourselves. about twenty dervishes speedily arrived, and their mollah or sheik, a venerable old man, with a long white beard, seated himself before the niche that indicated the direction of mecca. the dervishes stood before him in a semicircle, without shoes, their arms crossed upon their breasts, and their eyes humbly cast upon the ground. they were all without exception pallid and haggard, and apparently belonged to quite the lower classes. one was a mere boy of about thirteen or fourteen, another was blind, a third was a negro. after a few sentences, recited from the koran, the dervishes, headed by their mollah, began to march slowly round and round the enclosure, adapting their steps to the music (if it could be so called) of a tom-tom and a sort of flute, that from time to time uttered a low melancholy wail. after having made four or five rounds, the mollah returned to his seat, and the dervishes, throwing off their cloaks, appeared in white jackets and long yellow petticoats. the mollah began to pray aloud, and, as if inspired by the prayer to which they listened with upturned faces, the dervishes began to turn round; slowly at first, but then as the heavenly visions became more and more vivid, they extended their arms above their heads, they closed their eyes, and their countenances showed that they were in a trance of ecstatic joy. the mollah ceased to pray, but round and round went the whirling figures, faster and faster. it was a wonderful sight, so many men moving with such rapidity, all apparently unconscious, yet never did one touch the other. the only sound heard was the occasional flutter of a petticoat, and the unearthly noise of the music from the gallery, for as the movements became more rapid, so did the tom-tom increase in vehemence, and the wailings of the flute became more and more dismally dreadful. the effect was singular upon us spectators in the gallery. after a time many of our neighbours seemed to become, as it were, infected with the extraordinary scene below, their eyes became fixed, and they began rocking themselves to and fro in rhythm with the movements of the dervishes. we were also becoming quite giddy from assisting at such a fatiguing religion, when, happily for us, the mollah bowed his head; in an instant each man stopped short, and bowed as quietly as if nothing had happened. a few prayers and some sentences from the koran were again recited, and the dervishes, who were in a state of heat and exhaustion quite distressing to see, resumed their cloaks. they then knelt while more prayers were said. each man then kissed the hand of the sheik and those of his brother dervishes. a blessing was pronounced, to which the dervishes responded by a cry, or rather howl, of allah-il-allah, and the ceremony was over. having seen it, we no longer wondered at the pallid worn-out appearance of the worshippers, for the exhaustion both of mind and body must be very great. the object of the whirling is to distract the mind from earthly things, so as to enable the worshipper to concentrate himself upon the inexpressible joys of paradise. the exhibition, however, on the whole was painful. it is always sad to see our heavenly father worshipped in a degrading manner by his children. the dancing dervishes are said to be popular. they mostly lead blameless, inoffensive lives, and are very charitable. although the ceremonies of the howling dervishes have been much modified, and though many of the revolting cruelties they inflicted upon themselves have been suppressed by law, still the hideous howls and frantic actions to which they yield, as the inspiration possesses them, make their mode of worship a scene at which no woman can properly assist. passing one day in a caïque by a tekké where the service of howling dervishes was going on, we were arrested by the most tremendous and savage yell that imagination can picture. so hideous and prolonged was the howl, that it seemed as if it must have come from a menagerie of wild beasts rather than from the throats of human beings. these miserable fanatics begin their worship by placing their arms on each other's shoulders, they then draw back a step, and advancing suddenly, each man with a tremendous and savage yell howls forth, "allah-allah-allah-hoo!" which must be repeated a thousand times uninterruptedly. their countenances become livid, the foam flies from their lips, many of them fall on the floor in strong convulsions, from which they only rise to inflict cruel and horrid tortures upon their own wretched bodies. the stream that runs through the bosphorus from the black sea to the sea of marmora is so strong that it is almost impossible for a vessel to stem the current unless aided by steam. we thankfully, therefore, accepted the kind offer of the captain of the english man-of-war to take us in tow up to beyuk'dere, a village near the entrance of the black sea. the yacht was made fast apparently to the frigate, and off we set, but such was the force of the stream that, at an awkward corner near bebek, the immense hawser, that looked as if nothing could break it, snapped in two like a bit of thread, and the yacht spun round with the velocity of an opera-dancer. happily the danger had been foreseen and guarded against, but we were swept so close in against the shore that the jib-boom knocked down a piece of garden railing, and nearly spitted a most respectable old turk, who was sitting calmly smoking on his terrace. some time and much patience were required before the yacht could be again attached to the frigate, but at last two hawsers made her fast, and we proceeded on our way up the bosphorus. this beautiful stream is very unique in its characteristics, for while the waters have the depth, brilliancy, and life of the sea, its shores are cultivated and wooded like the banks of a river. the gentle sloping hills are covered with dwelling-houses and kiosks, while the terraces and gardens of stately palaces line the shore. the turks have much taste, and are also great lovers of flowers. the gardens, therefore, are well laid out, and generally well kept. the climate also is favourable, though the winters are cold, snow sometimes lying on the ground for many days. the beautiful american trumpet-creeper grows in perfection, and may be seen hanging over almost every garden wall, its large bunches of orange-coloured flowers being in lovely contrast with the brilliant green foliage. orange trees and myrtles do well, although they do not attain the same size and luxuriance as in sicily and greece. turkish houses are exceedingly picturesque in appearance. they are seldom more than two storeys high, have many irregular projections, and the overhanging roofs extend considerably beyond the walls. they are usually built of wood, and are painted white, stone colour, or pale yellow. both inside and out they look exquisitely clean; indeed, inside not a speck of dust is to be seen, the floors are covered with beautiful matting, and the walls are usually painted a delicate cream colour. but, alas! a turkish house is but a whited sepulchre, for beneath this pure surface vermin prevail to such an extent that at night they come out by hundreds. it is a horrible plague, but by constantly painting and the free use of turpentine, most foreigners succeed in time in ridding their houses of these torments. we once made a painful experience of the deceptiveness of appearances. during the summer, our evil angel induced us, and the countess s--, the wife of one of the diplomats, to accept an invitation from a very rich armenian merchant to assist at the marriage of his daughter. the fêtes were as usual to extend over three days, and we were to be his guests for that period. the house was magnificent in size, and gorgeously decorated with gold, and velvet, and satin. the dinner, or supper, also was as grand as french and turkish culinary art could make it. our entertainers were kind and agreeable people, so we looked forward to a very pleasant visit. we three frank ladies had assigned to us as a sleeping apartment an immense saloon, superbly gilt and painted, but having little furniture besides a crimson satin divan, trimmed with gold fringe, that ran round three sides of the room. adjoining was a small bath-room, and our maids had a room at some distance in another wing of the house. on retiring to our apartment at night, we found three comfortable-looking beds had been prepared for us in the usual eastern fashion--that is, laid on the floor. each bed had two thick soft mattresses, covered with pale green satin; the pillows were of the same rich material, and covered with cambric; the sheets were also of cambric, beautifully fine and white, and trimmed with broad lace. the coverlets were of green satin, embroidered, and fringed with gold. altogether our couches looked very inviting, especially after a long afternoon of civilities, and talk, besides the great dinner, and the long wedding ceremony, which did not take place till midnight. the lights were put out, and we had just sunk into the pleasant half-conscious dreaminess of a first sleep, when we were thoroughly awakened by a sudden pattering and rush of little feet behind the walls, around, above, and below us, while sundry sharp squeaks announced the neighbourhood of rats. however, travellers do not allow their night's rest to be disturbed for trifles; so, covering up our heads, in order to shut out the disagreeable noise, we resolved not to hear, and tried to go to sleep. but it would not do; an unendurably loud squeal close to madame s.'s head made her jump up hastily, thinking the rats must be in the room. we lighted the candles, and then--our feelings can better be imagined than described, when we beheld an invading army of horrors worse than rats, descending the walls, marching over the floor, and creeping out of every little crack and hollow in the woodwork. in blank dismay we looked at each other. what was to be done? the divans and ottomans had already been taken possession of by the enemy. there was not a cane chair or a table in the room, or we would have mounted upon them. help was impossible; there were no bells, we did not feel justified in disturbing the household, and we were ignorant of the whereabouts of our maids' room. we were in despair, when a sudden bright inspiration flashed into the mind of one of us. the bath, the clean white marble, seemed to offer a safe refuge. in an instant we were there, and wrapping ourselves up as well as we could, there we remained till morning. luckily for us it was a warm summer's night, or we should have caught our deaths of cold, for we were so eager to escape from our hateful enemies that we should have accepted any risk. there we sat in forlorn discomfort--melancholy warning of the usual end of a party of pleasure. luckily a sense of the ludicrousness of our position made us merry, for as each caught sight of the other's dismayed white face, we could not help bursting into fits of laughter, especially when we thought what our friends would have said could they have seen us. when day came the foe retired; but as speedily as ordinary civility would permit, we took our leave, obliged to pretend important business in constantinople, and resisting all the kind pressing of our host and his family, for nothing would have induced us to pass another night in such a chamber of horrors. our poor maids had slept, but showed lamentable traces of the presence of the foe, who evince decided partiality for fresh and newly-arrived foreigners. an armenian wedding has many forms that are akin to those of both the turkish and christian services. the ceremony is performed at midnight. the bride is so muffled up in shawls, and veils, and flowing garments, that face and figure are alike invisible. the fair damsel is not seen, but the mass of superb silk, lace, and flashing jewels placed in the middle of the room, indicate her presence. the bridegroom is asked, as he stands opposite to her, "will you take this girl to be your wife, even if she be lame, deaf, deformed, or blind?" to which, with admirable courage and resignation, he replies, "i will take her." the officiating priest then joins their hands, a silk cord is tied round the head of each, and, after many prayers and much singing, they are pronounced man and wife. chapter iv. the harem. the first visit to a harem is a very exhausting business, for everyone feels shy, and everyone is stupid, and the stupidity and shyness last many hours. we were fortunate, however, in paying our first ceremonious visit to the harem of r---pasha, whose wife enjoys, and deservedly, the reputation of being as kind in manner as she is in heart. madame p. was so good as to go with us as interpreter. we were afterwards accompanied by a nice old armenian woman, well known amongst the turkish ladies, as she attends many of them in their confinements, and is always summoned to assist at weddings and other festivals, besides being often trusted as the confidential agent for making the first overtures in arranging marriages. turkish babies have a hard time of it during the first month of their existence. soon after their birth they are rubbed down with salt, and tightly swaddled in the italian fashion. the pressure of these bandages is often so great that the circulation becomes impeded, and incisions and scarifications are then made on the hands, feet, and spine, to let out what turkish doctors and nurses call "the bad blood." the unhappy little creature is only occasionally released from its bonds, and never thoroughly washed until the sacred month of thirty days has expired, when it is taken with its mother to the bath. no wonder that the sickly and ailing sink under such treatment, and that the mortality amongst infants should be frightful. scarcely had our caïque touched the terrace that extends before r---pasha's handsome palace, when a small door, that was hardly noticed in the long line of blank wall, opened as if by magic. we passed through, and found ourselves in a small shady court surrounded by arcades, up the columns of which climbing plants were trained. in the centre was a fountain, with orange trees and masses of flowers arranged around its basin. a broad flight of steps at the end of the court led to the principal apartments. we were received at the foot of the stairs by two black slaves and several young girls dressed in white, who escorted us to a large saloon on the upper floor. the ceiling of this room was quite magnificent, so richly was it painted and gilt. there was the usual divan, and the floor was covered with delicate matting, but there was no other furniture of any sort. the walls were exceedingly pretty, being painted cream colour, and bordered with turkish sentences, laid on in mat or dead gold, a mode of decoration both novel and graceful. we learnt afterwards that many of the phrases were extracts from the koran; others set forth the name and titles of the hanoum's father, who had been a minister of much influence and importance. the windows were closely latticed, but notwithstanding the jealous bars, the views over the bosphorus and the opposite shore of asia were enchanting. here we were met by h---bey, the pasha's eldest son, a good-looking boy, about eleven or twelve years of age, also dressed in white, but wearing some magnificent jewels in his fez, and by him conducted to another and smaller apartment, somewhat more furnished than the first, as it had a console table, with the usual clock, a piano, and some stiff hard chairs ranged against the walls. as we entered the room, the folding-doors opposite were thrown open, and the hanoum (lady of the house), accompanied by her daughter, and attended by a train of women, advanced to meet us. we had heard that this lady had once been a famous beauty. she was still of an age "à prétention," that is to say, about thirty-three or five, so we had pictured to ourselves something handsome, graceful, and dignified. we were stricken, therefore, almost dumb with surprise when we saw a woman, apparently nearer sixty than thirty, very short, and enormously fat, roll rather than walk into the room. her awkward movements were probably as much caused by the extraordinary shape of her gown, as by her unusual size. her dress, which is called an "enterree," and was but a slight and slender garment, was made of thin pink silk. it was open to the waist, very scanty in the skirt, and ended in three long tails, each about a yard wide, and which, passing on each side and between her feet, must have made walking quite a matter of difficulty. this singular robe was fastened round the waist by a white scarf, and certainly did not embellish, nor even conceal the too great exuberance of figure. to show that she received us as equals and friends, the hanoum wore no stockings, only slippers. when the mistress of the house enters in stockings it is a sign that she considers her visitors to be of inferior rank. we thought the hanoum's head-dress as unbecoming as her gown. her hair was combed down straight on each side of her face, and then cut off short; and she had a coloured gauze handkerchief tied round her head. the eyebrows were painted with antimony, about the width of a finger, from the nose to the roots of the hair, and the eyes were blackened all round the lids. had the face, however, not been such an enormous size, it would have been handsome, for the eyes were large, black, and well shaped, and the complexion was fair and good; but the nose was too large, and the mouth was spoiled from there being no front teeth. however, she seemed a most good-tempered, kind, merry creature, and she nodded her head and smiled upon us, while uttering a thousand welcoming compliments, as if she were really glad to see her stranger guests. the daughter was a nice-looking girl, about fourteen or fifteen, with a face that was more bright and intelligent than actually pretty. her figure was slight and graceful, but nevertheless showed indications that in a few years she, like her mother, might become prematurely fat and faded. the eyes were marvellously beautiful--so large and lustrous, that they seemed like lamps when the long black lashes were raised; but her mouth was quite spoiled by bad teeth, a singular defect in one so young. but turkish women almost always lose their teeth early. they seldom use tooth-brushes, and are inordinately fond of sweetmeats, which they eat from morning till night. the young lady also wore the "enterree," or tailed dress, which seemed to be a mark of distinction, for all the attendants wore short coats and full white trousers. mother and daughter were both dressed with studied simplicity, as turkish ladies receive at home "en negligé." it is only when they pay visits that they array themselves sumptuously. on the present occasion the slaves and women were gorgeously apparelled, and most magnificent was their attire--velvet, satin, cloth of gold, and precious stones quite dazzled the eye. it was in very earnest a scene from the "arabian nights." when we had been duly placed on the divan, a young slave brought in a tray, on which were a bowl containing a compote of white grapes, another full of gold spoons, several glasses of iced water, &c. etiquette requires that a spoonful of the sweetmeat should be eaten, and the spoon then placed in the left-hand bowl. some iced water is drunk, and then the tips of the fingers only should be delicately wiped with an embroidered napkin presented for the purpose. a calm and graceful performance of this ceremony marks the "grande dame" amongst turkish ladies, and many a foreigner has come to grief from being unacquainted with these little details. in the story of ivanhoe, cedric the saxon is described as having been despised by the norman courtiers, because he wiped his hands with the napkin, instead of drying them in courtly fashion by waving them in the air; so likewise does a lady lose caste for ever in a turkish harem should she rub her hands with the napkin instead of daintily passing it over the tips of her fingers. now came more slaves bringing coffee. one carried a silver brazier, on which were smoking several small coffee-pots; another had the cups--lovely little things, made of exquisitely transparent china, and mounted on gold filigree stands; a third carried a round black velvet cloth, embroidered all over in silver. this is used to cover the cups as they are carried away empty. narghilés were now brought, and for some minutes we all solemnly puffed away in silence. for myself, personally, this was an anxious moment, for i very much doubted whether my powers as a smoker would enable me to undertake a narghilé, very few whiffs being often enough to make a neophyte faint. i looked at my sister; she was calmly smoking with the serenity and gravity of a turk. the hanoum's eyes were fixed on vacancy. she had evidently arrived at her fifth heaven at least. the pretty daughter was looking at me, but i did not dare look at her; so, as there was no escape, i boldly drew in a whiff. things around looked rather indistinct; however, i mustered up my courage and drew in another. it was not as disagreeable as the first, but the indistinct things seemed to get even fainter, and were, besides, becoming a little black, so i took the hint, and, finding nature had not intended me for a smoker, quietly let my pipe go out. narghilés are now seldom used in harems except for occasions of ceremony. on all subsequent visits cigarettes were brought, which were much more easily managed. when the pipes were finished we began to talk, and mutually inquired the names and ages of our respective children. the hanoum has three--the eldest son, h---bey, the daughter named nadèje, and a little fellow about five years old, who came running in very grandly dressed, and with a great aigrette of diamonds in his little fez--evidently mamma's pet. h---bey wanted very much to talk. but, alas! our turkish words were sadly few, and conversation through an interpreter soon languishes and becomes irksome. we asked him his age, but he did not know. no turk ever troubles himself or herself about so trivial a matter. they are satisfied to exist, and think it quite immaterial how many years they may have been in the world. amongst the attendants were two very old women, so dried up and so withered that they scarcely looked like women. one of them, who was blind, had been nurse to the hanoum. it was quite charming to see the kindness and tenderness with which these poor old creatures were treated. the blind nurse was carefully placed in a comfortable corner near the windows. h---bey constantly went to her, and from time to time, affectionately putting his arm round her neck, seemed to be describing the visitors to her. these old women were the only persons who were allowed to sit in the hanoum's presence; all the others remained standing in a respectful attitude, their arms crossed, and generally so motionless that they might have been statues but for the restless movement of their eyes. remembering the piano, we asked nadèje if she liked music, and after some persuasion she played some wild turkish airs with considerable facility and expression. we were then invited to see the house, which was large and very handsome. strangers are always at first, however, somewhat bewildered by finding there are no bedrooms; but, in fact, every room is a bedroom, according to necessity or the season. hospitality is almost a religious duty amongst the turks, and every room is surrounded by cupboards, in which are stowed away vast numbers of mattresses and pillows ready for any chance guest who may arrive. the mattresses are thick and comfortable, and are generally covered with some pale-coloured satin or silk. the beds are made upon the floor, and, besides the mattresses and pillows, have cambric or fine linen sheets and a silk coverlet. excepting the bathing apartments attached to the house, no appliances for washing were to be seen anywhere; and these ladies seemed surprised that we considered daily ablution necessary. they assured us that the bath twice a week was quite as much as was good for the health. daily washing they consider a work of supererogation, so they satisfy themselves with pouring a little rose-water from time to time over their hands and faces. upon our expressing a wish to know how the "yashmak," or veil, was arranged, nadèje immediately had one put on, to show how it ought to be folded and pinned; and as by this time we had become great friends, it was good-naturedly proposed that we should try the effects of yashmak and "feredje," and the most beautiful dresses were brought, in which we were to be arrayed. further acquaintance with the yashmak increases our admiration for it. the filmy delicacy of the muslin makes it like a vapour, and the exquisite softness of its texture causes it to fall into the most graceful folds. some of the feredjes, or cloaks, were magnificent garments. one was made of the richest purple satin, with a broad border of embroidered flowers; another of brocade, so thick that it stood alone; another of blue satin worked with seed pearls. the jackets, "enterrees," &c. &c., were brought in piled upon trays and in numbers that seemed countless. a parisian's wardrobe would be as nothing compared with the multitude and magnificence of the toilettes spread before us. the jewels were then exhibited. turkish jewellers generally mount their stones too heavily, and the cutting is far inferior to that of amsterdam; but the hanoum had some very fine diamonds, really well set. one aigrette for the hair was exceedingly beautiful. the diamonds were mounted as a bunch of guelder-roses, each rose trembling on its stem. we also much admired a circlet of lilies and butterflies, the antennæ of the butterflies ending in a brilliant of the finest water. there was also a charming ornament for the waist, an immense clasp, made of branches of roses in diamonds, surrounded with wreaths of leaves in pearls and emeralds, a large pear-shaped pearl hanging from each point. having inspected the house we paid a visit to the garden, now as full of roses as an eastern garden should be. terraces made shady by trellises of vines and fig-trees hung over the bosphorus, and to every pretty view the falling waters of streams and fountains added their pleasant music to aid the soothing influence of the scene. at the end of one terrace was a large conservatory full of beautiful climbing plants; but we were afraid of admiring too much, for h---bey had accompanied us, and, after the manner of eastern tales, whenever we praised anything insisted upon giving it to us. we were now preparing to take leave, but our friend's hospitality was not yet exhausted; and the hanoum, taking my sister and myself each by the hand, led us into the smaller saloon, where a collation had been prepared. on a low circular table, or stool, a large tray had been placed, on which were a number of dishes containing melons, grapes, peaches, vegetable marrows, thin slices of cheese, and a variety of sweetmeats. piles of bread cut into slices were also arranged round the tray. there were forks, but the bread supplied the place of spoons. when we were all seated, rice, pillau, and little birds roasted in vine leaves were brought in, à la française. the kabobs and maccaroni had too much garlic in them for our taste, but a very light sort of pastry called "paklava" was excellent, and the rice was perfection. the cooking we thought very good, and a great contrast to an experiment we had made a few days previously, in order to see what ordinary turkish cookery was like. one day during our many expeditions for sight-seeing in constantinople, we were seized by the pangs of hunger several hours before we had arranged to return to therapia, so espying a very nice clean-looking cook-shop, where a number of cooks, neatly dressed in white, were chopping and frying little scraps of meat, we proceeded there and ordered a dish of kabobs à la turque. the kabobs in themselves might have been good, and also the fried bread that accompanied them, but a sauce of fat and garlic had been poured over both that made the dish not only uneatable, but unendurable. the good-natured cook seemed surprised at our bad taste, but yielded to european prejudices, and at last brought some plain rice and tomatoes, with which we made an excellent luncheon. the favourite turkish sweetmeat, called "rahat-la-koum," or lumps of delight, is excellent when quite fresh, and makes much better eau sucrée than plain sugar, as there is a slight flavour of orange-peel and roses given to the water. to return, however, to our little breakfast at r---pasha's; between each course of meat every one took what pleased her from the dishes on the table--fruits, sweetmeats, or cheese, though the latter was the favourite, as it is supposed not only to increase the appetite, but to improve the taste. both before and after eating, gold basins and ewers were brought round, and as we held our hands over the former perfumed water was poured upon them. the napkins were so beautifully embroidered in gold thread and coloured silks that it seemed quite a pity to use them for drying the hands. the repast over, coffee and cigarettes again appeared, and then, with many friendly invitations and kindly expressions, we parted. the hanoum offers us her bath-room, her caïques, and her carriages, and proposes also to teach us turkish. in this harem, as is now generally the case in the best turkish families, there is but one wife. our friend, the hanoum, had been a well-portioned bride. she brought her husband, besides the house we had seen, another at beyuk'dere, considerable property in land, and a large sum of money. where a daughter is so richly dowered, the father usually stipulates that no other wife shall be taken. wives also, in constantinople, as elsewhere, are expensive luxuries, for each lady must have a separate establishment, besides retinue and carriages. marriage in turkey is not a religious ceremony; it is merely a civil covenant that can be annulled for very trivial reasons by either party. public opinion, however, pronounces such separations disgraceful, and they are seldom resorted to unless for grave reasons. a man can put away his wife by pronouncing before a third person that his marriage is "void," but must in that case resign all the property that his wife has ever possessed. a woman can only obtain a divorce by going before a cadi, and declaring that she yields all her dower and property, and claims her freedom. should there be children, the mother, if she so elects, can retain the girls with her until they are seven years old; after that age they return to their father's house, unless an especial arrangement has been made to the contrary. a turkish bath, when taken in a private house, is but a repetition of the ceremony that may be gone through in any of the principal bathing establishments in london and paris; but public turkish baths are quite national institutions, and often afford so many amusing and interesting scenes of real life that no foreigner should omit to visit them. wednesday is the day usually set apart for the turkish women; greek women have saturday; the other days are allotted to the men. the first time we went to the bath, we were quite oppressed with the extent of the preparations that our friends seemed to think absolutely necessary. ladies are always attended by their own servants, and besides providing themselves with the necessary linen and toilet appendages, bring all the materials for the subsequent repast, with coffee and pipes. besides several dressing-gowns, there was quite a mountain of towels, so large that they might almost be called sheets; some of them long and narrow for wrapping round the head and drying the hair. there were wonderful-looking yellow gloves, of various degrees of coarseness, for rubbing. as we looked at them we quite shuddered at the thought of what we should have to endure. then there were tall wooden clogs, to enable us to walk across the heated floors; and bowls of metal for pouring boiling water upon us. besides these and many other implements apparently for torture, there were brushes and combs, various sorts of soap for washing, for rubbing, and for perfuming; bottles of scented waters, rugs, mattresses, looking-glasses; and, in addition to the basket containing cups, plates, and dishes, with all the paraphernalia for luncheon, there was a large box full of perfumes. perfumes in the east are not only countless in number, but of a strength almost overpowering to western nerves. literally, not only every flower, but every fruit, is pressed into the service of the perfumer. first in rank and potency is the far-famed attar-gûl, of which one pure drop suffices to scent for years the stuff on which it is poured. the fine aromatic perfume of the orange and cinnamon flowers is well known, and the more delicate fragrance of the violet is preserved with all its fresh charm. still, a box of turkish perfumes is almost overpowering from its excess of sweetness; and, with the exception of the violets, we preferred the bottles unopened. when, in addition to the articles already enumerated, we add that an extensive wardrobe was taken by each lady, that there were baskets of fruit, cases of confectionery, a complete coffee equipage, and all necessary appliances for smoking, it will easily be imagined that the "impedimenta," as the romans so aptly called travelling luggage, was by no means small. to our uninitiated eyes it appeared truly formidable, but our friends seemed to think it all "en règle;" so we held our tongues and profited by the kind arrangements so affectionately made for us. on arriving at the bath we passed through a narrow passage and came to a large vaulted room, with a double balcony round two sides of it. the lower balcony, which was about two or three feet from the ground, was divided by curtains into compartments. these compartments were occupied by ladies either preparing for or reposing after the fatigues of the bath. in the latter case the curtains were drawn back, and the inmate could be seen reclining in indolent enjoyment upon her satin mattress. occasionally she would raise the cup of coffee or sherbet to her lips, or, with closed eyes, would languidly smoke the scented cigarette as her maid combed her hair, or tinged the delicate tips of her fingers with the beautifying henna. some of the recesses disclosed less gratifying spectacles. here an ancient dame, whom the bath had restored to her natural state of white hair and wrinkles, was having the renovating process performed of having her scanty locks dyed red, and the hollows and furrows that time had made filled up by white paint and rouge. the passion of turkish women for cosmetics is almost unaccountable, for the complexions of most of them are exceedingly good. their skins are generally of a creamy white, with a delicate shade of colour; but nothing will satisfy them but the most startling contrast of white and pink, and it is pitiable to see quite young girls so disfigure themselves. it required a little effort of courage, when fully arrayed in the long white bathing-gown and mounted on the tall pattens, to issue forth from our recess; but we pushed aside the curtains and appeared, feeling very much, as we essayed to walk on the slippery marble floor, as an unhappy cat must do who, with walnut shells on her feet, is forced to perform a promenade on the ice. two ancient bath-women speedily came to our assistance. they had been slowly boiling so many years that they were shrivelled and parched out of the semblance even of "wo-manity," if such a word may be permitted. strange to say they had but few wrinkles, but their skin seemed tightly drawn over their faces, as over the bones of a skull, and hung loosely in great folds under their chins and around their throats. they told us afterwards that they had been attendants to the bath for upwards of thirty years, and had grown so much accustomed to the heated and sulphureous atmosphere in which they pass the greater portion of their days, that a purer and fresher air is quite painful to them. by their aid, with much trepidation, we stumbled across the hall, and in a few seconds found ourselves in a sort of pandemonium next door. in an instant i felt as a shrimp, if he feels at all, must feel in hot water--i was boiled. i looked at my companion; her face was a gorgeous scarlet. in our best turkish, and with faint and imploring accents, we gasped out, "take us away!" all in vain. for those who enter here there is no retreat- "lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'entrate." we had come to be boiled and rubbed, and boiled and rubbed we must be. we speedily found ourselves seated close to a small stream of what, at first, seemed like boiling water, of which large bowlfuls were rapidly thrown over us. when we had a little recovered from this shock, and our eyes became more accustomed to the clouds of sulphureous vapours that were rolling around, we began to look with interest on the singular scene in which we found ourselves. there were upwards of a hundred women in the bath, the bathers seated in groups of two or three by each little stream of hot water. each woman was attended by one or two slaves, who were assiduously rubbing their mistress with perfumed soap, or pouring the steaming bowls of boiling water over her. numbers of children, without an atom of clothing upon them, were running about shouting, laughing, and throwing water upon each other. many babies also were having a bath against their will, and the shrieks of these unfortunates were quite deafening. most of the women were talking and laughing, and the great height of the hall caused a reverberation that made the noise most bewildering. the dense atmosphere and rolling clouds of steam made it also impossible to ascertain the size of the bath, which however must have been very large, from the number of persons it contained. from it opened numerous small rooms still hotter than the first, although the shock on entering was not nearly as great as that experienced when arriving at the great hall. here the soaping and rubbing processes were performed with such vigour that we felt as if nothing was left of us, and right glad were we when we found ourselves once more in the comfortable dressing-room, with just enough strength left to throw ourselves on the luxurious mattresses and appreciate, to its full extent, the kindness that had supplied us with coffee, fruit, luncheon, &c. how many hours passed in pleasant idleness, it is impossible to say. one takes no note of time after a turkish bath; and also, when a little refreshed and revived, we were exceedingly amused and interested by the scenes and conversations around us. it seemed that those who wished to have a private dressing-room, such as that we had, paid a little more than the ordinary price, the majority of the ladies availing themselves of the large general dressing-rooms on the balcony above. towards the afternoon the bathing was almost over, and the club, as it were, began. the whole of the immense space below us was occupied by groups of ladies, who, reclining on their mattresses, chattered to each other, smoked, drank coffee, and ate fruit, as their maids dried, combed, and dyed their hair, for there were but few who did not use a little henna. the children, who were now clothed, ran about as before, but happily most of the suffering babies had gone to sleep. two middle-aged ladies near us were evidently, and with much diplomacy, negotiating the preliminaries of a marriage. contrary to the usual state of the case in europe, the "riches" of the lady and the "beauty" of the gentleman were amply dilated upon. a little further on two handsome young women, probably the inmates of the same harem, had evidently had a violent quarrel, only subdued by the soothing influence of the bath. beyond them a fair georgian, the prettiest woman in the room, reclined negligently against a heap of cushions; her slaves were deluging her with perfumes, while a hideous old crone was earnestly whispering some tale into her ear, probably one of love, as the girl coloured and looked pleased, as she occasionally glanced suspiciously around, as if to assure herself that no one was listening to the communication. in one corner a group of matronly-looking women were describing the merits and charms of their respective babies, while shouts of merry laughter, proceeding from another, showed where a number of young girls had collected together. the whole scene was singularly picturesque and interesting, and gave us a very favourable impression of the native refinement of turkish women. nothing could be more decorous than the appearance and manners of every woman there present, but in one respect we were disappointed. there was a remarkable want of beauty. with the exception of the pretty georgian, there was scarcely a good-looking woman in the room. the handsomest were, beyond all question, some coal-black nubian slaves. one of them had the most beautiful figure we had ever seen. tall, lithe, and supple, her small head exquisitely poised on a throat round and shapely as that of a statue, she moved about with the undulating grace of some wild animal. coal-black though she was, her features had none of the unseemly coarseness and grotesqueness of the negro; on the contrary, the nose was delicately cut, while her mouth, though full, had the waving lines of beauty, only seen in the egyptian sphinx. although a turkish bath is certainly a most inviting luxury, and has temporarily a flattering effect upon the skin, making it for some hours, even days afterwards, exquisitely white, smooth, and soft, still, owing to the great heat, and the quantity of sulphur with which the air is charged, an undue indulgence in bathing has in the end a deteriorating effect upon female beauty. the muscles become relaxed, and the skin, although it remains soft and delicate, loses its elasticity; the hair also rapidly falls off, and what is left becomes thin and weak. the too devoted votaries of the bath, therefore, speedily become enervated both in mind and body, and whilst still young in years fade into a premature old age. the indolence also which it creates does much to increase the tendency to undue corpulence, so destructive to the fair proportions of eastern women. most of them, after middle life, either become shrivelled and dried up, or else have both features and form swelled to very uncomely dimensions. chapter v. the happy valley. amongst the many lovely valleys that surround constantinople, the two most perfectly charming are the valley of the sultan and that called by the franks the sweet waters of asia. both are carpeted by the freshest and greenest sward; both are shaded by magnificent trees; and numerous little streams, descending from the neighbouring heights, not only charm by the pleasant music of their waters, but enable pleasure-seekers to boil their coffee al fresco. these delicious spots, so green and fresh, nestled, as it were, amidst comparatively barren hills, seem to invite all the happy ones of earth to come and repose under the tender shade of their great trees. the air, though soft, is so fresh and invigorating, that the fact of existence seems a joy. nature rejoices on all sides--the brilliant sky above, the bright rays glancing through the trees, the merry little wavelets that show their white heads upon the intense blue of the bosphorus, the birds singing blithely from every coppice and tangled brake--all nature smiles in sunshine, hope, and joy. little troubles and unworthy anxieties fade and fall away, and life seems for a few short hours to be the delight that our heavenly father probably once meant it to be. there are few things more charming in the turkish character than the honest, hearty love for the beauties of nature that prevails in all classes. from the sultan to the meanest and poorest of his subjects, whenever a holiday occurs, all hasten to enjoy the luxury of fresh air and the soft green sward, there to while away the few hours (perhaps in both cases) hardly wrung from many days of weary and exhausting toil. in the winter the men of course frequent the coffee-shops, there to enjoy their pipes and the long histories of the professional story-tellers, but in the summer every valley is thronged with people, all evidently enjoying themselves with a completeness and an absence of western ennui that is most refreshing to behold. many a delightful hour did we pass in these valleys. the merry melodious voices of the women, the ringing laughter of the children, made a music very pleasant to the ear; and the eye was charmed with the brilliant beauty of the colouring, and the picturesque grace of the groups that surrounded one on every side. on a friday, or other holiday, many hundreds of people congregate at the sweet waters both of europe and asia. the women, arrayed in gorgeous dresses, recline on carpets beneath the trees, little spirals of smoke ascend from the numerous pipes, the narghilé bubbles in its rose-water, the tiny cups of coffee send forth a delicious fragrance, the perfume of fresh oranges and lemons fills the air. the still more exquisite sweetness of orange blossoms is wafted towards us, as a gipsy flower-girl passes through the groups, carrying many a mysterious bouquet, of which the flowers tell a perhaps too sweet and too dangerous love-tale to the fair receiver. then a bon-bon seller comes, laden with his box of pretty sweets. many are really good, especially the sweetmeat called rahat-la-koum, when quite fresh, and another, made only of cream and sugar flavoured with orange-flower water. every now and then the wild notes of some turkish music may be heard from the neighbouring hills--the band of a passing turkish regiment; or perhaps the monotonous but musical chant of some greek sailors falls on the ear, as they struggle to force their boat up the tremendous stream of the bosphorus. seen from a little distance, and shaded by the flattering folds of the "yashmak," oriental women almost always look pretty; but when, as they often do, the fair dames let the veil fall a little, and the features become distinctly visible, the illusion is lost at once. the eyes are magnificent, almond-shaped, tender and melting, but, with very few exceptions, the nose and mouth are so large and ill-formed, that the face ceases to be beautiful; the superb eyes not compensating for the want of finish in the other features. as a class, the armenians were the best-looking, but the women's head-dress was remarkably becoming. they wear a thin coloured handkerchief, with a broad fringe of gauze flowers, tied coquettishly on one side of the head, long plaits of hair being arranged round it like a coronet. as in western countries, the middle and lower classes seemed to enjoy themselves the most. they sat on the grass, and talked to their friends. they could eat their fruit and drink their coffee al fresco, while some of the sultan's odalisks, and other great ladies, shut up in their arabas and carriages, performed a slow and dreary promenade up and down the middle of the valley. very weary did some of these poor things look, but the guard of black slaves on each side the carriage forbade any hope of an hour's liberty. happily, excepting in the sultan's harem, it is now becoming the fashion for the ladies to descend from their carriages and to pass the afternoon beneath the trees. many other eastern fashions are also becoming modified. the huge yellow boots are disappearing, french ones taking their place; parasols and fans are also used, and all the fashionable ladies now wear gloves. besides the charming valleys already mentioned, the shores of the bosphorus abound in pretty villages, where the great turkish families, the foreign ministers, and principal european merchants have palaces, and where they generally pass the summer. the most important of these villages are therapia and beyuk'dere. the english and french ambassadors have each a palace at the former, and as we had the good fortune to pay a long and most happy visit to our kind friends at the english embassy, we came to love therapia as a very dear and happy home. there is no place in the world, perhaps, where the air has so exhilarating an effect as on the shores of the bosphorus. the soft, sweet breeze from the hill side seems to temper the fresh, salt wind that is borne in from the black sea; and how great was the delight when we sometimes turned to the sea-shore, after a long ride in the forest of belgrade! can anything be more beautiful on a sunny evening than to watch the sea steal quietly up the glittering beach?--to see wave after wave gracefully bend its snow-capped head, and then, falling over, leave a line of shining water all along the shore? and riding down upon the cool, wet sand, how grateful to the tired horses is the tender lapping of the soft, soothing water, as the little waves curl round their heated feet! ah! why will happy hours pass so soon away?--why does a pang ever mingle with the thought of a joy that is past? beyuk'dere is so pretty, so graceful, and so unreal-looking, especially as we saw it for the first time, on a bright moonlight night, that it seemed like a dream or a scene in a play. and yet the houses are very real, and some of them very handsome; for example, the russian embassy, where a clever and charming host, excellent dinners, and most agreeable evenings were very delightful realities. still, most of the smaller houses look as if they were cut out of cardboard. they have also an unusual number of windows, which, when lighted up at night (and the shutters are seldom closed, on account of the heat), give many of the streets the appearance of the side-scenes at the opera. so strong is the illusion, that it is difficult to cease expecting that the beautiful heroine in muslin apron, with little pockets, will presently look out of the latticed window, or that the irascible father, in brown coat and large buttons, will issue forth from that most fragile and operatic-looking door. when we had been a few weeks at constantinople, and had visited some half-dozen harems, we began to think we knew something about turkish life, and it was not until we had been there some months, and become acquainted with the families of most of the principal pashas, ministers, &c., that we discovered how little we really knew about it. but although we might change our opinions respecting many domestic customs and manners, time and more intimate knowledge of their character only increased our liking and admiration for the turks, both men and women. benevolence and kindness are the principal characteristics of both sexes. during the whole period of our stay in turkey we never saw even a child ill-treat a hapless animal. travellers, especially women, are seldom sufficiently conversant with the laws of a country to be able to expatiate with much accuracy on such matters. turkish laws are said to be bad; perhaps they are so, but certainly there are few cities in europe where the streets can be so safely traversed, both by night and day, as those of constantinople. turkish manners, also, are peculiarly agreeable. turks are not ashamed to show that they wish to please--that they wish to be courteous; happily they have not yet adopted that brusquerie of manner that is becoming so prevalent in the west. the fault is perhaps an overabundance of ceremony and etiquette. even in their own houses, in the seclusion of home, the master of a family is treated with a respectful deference which would astonish many christian sons, who unhappily often now only look upon their father as the purse-holder, out of whom they must wring as much money as possible. in the selamluk [1] no person seats himself without the permission of the master of the house; in the harem the same etiquette is observed, the hanoum, or first wife, reigning there supreme. we had often heard that eastern women enjoyed in reality far more liberty than their western sisters, and in some respects this is certainly true; but in point of fact the liberty they possess in being able to go in and out unquestioned, to receive and pay visits where they choose, does not at all compensate for the slavery of the mind which they have to endure, from being cut off from the education and mental improvement they would gain by association with the other sex. mental imprisonment is worse even than bodily imprisonment, and by depriving a woman of legitimate ambition, by taking from her the wish for mental culture, she is reduced to the condition of a child--a very charming one, probably, when young, but a painful position for her when, youth having departed, the power of fascination decays with the loss of beauty; and though in some instances it is well known that the natural talent of the woman has had the power of retaining her husband's heart, still it too often happens that, after very few years of love and admiration, he turns to one still younger and fairer to charm his hours of leisure. not only did we constantly see madame r---and her charming daughter nadèje, and the wives and relatives of the ministers, &c., whose acquaintance we made, but we had the honour of being invited to pay visits to most of the members of the imperial family; and the more we saw of the turkish ladies the more we liked the kindly, gentle-hearted women who received us with such friendly hospitality. in the royal palaces there was of course more splendour, more gold, more diamonds, more slaves--especially the hideous black spectres, who are often so revoltingly frightful that they look like nightmares. but in all essentials a description of a visit to one harem serves to describe the receptions at all. during our visits to their wives the pashas often requested permission to enter the harem, and we were delighted to make the acquaintance of f---pasha, a statesman distinguished throughout europe by his enlightened views, his generous nature, and by the improvements his wise legislation has effected for his country. successive visits, both to his lovely palace on the bosphorus and to us on board the yacht, turned this acquaintance into a friendship which we valued as it indeed deserved. it was sometimes amusing to see the astonishment of the women when they found we did not object to converse with the pasha. they could hardly understand that we would allow him to enter the harem during our stay there. in deference to their feelings we, however, always drew down our veils before the master of the house entered, a proceeding which we were aware materially increased their respect for us, and for our sentiments of reserve and propriety. more intimate acquaintance with our turkish friends enabled us to see how often they were annoyed and disturbed, probably quite unintentionally, by the proceedings of their european guests. madame f---is a charming person, clever and intelligent to an unusual degree. she is said to possess great and legitimate influence with her husband. she invited us one day to a large party, consisting of most of the "lionnes" of the constantinopolitan world. some of these ladies were very pretty, and perhaps rather fast. many of them had adopted several french fashions, wearing zouaves and paris-cut bodies instead of their own pretty jackets and chemises, a change we thought much for the worse. the great mixture of colours, also, which looks so well in the turkish full dress of ceremony, seemed much out of place in a semi-french costume. our paris bonnets produced quite a furore. so much were they admired that we lent them to be tried on by the whole assembly. each fair turk thought she looked lovely in the ludicrous little fabric of lace and flowers, though we would not be so untruthful as to say they were half as becoming as their own fez, with the grand aigrettes of diamonds, which they place so coquettishly on the side of their pretty heads. these ladies were wonderfully "well up" in all the gossip of constantinople. they were perfectly cognisant of all the little details of every embassy and legation, knowing every member of them by sight. they have a game which is played for sugarplums. various diplomats or well-known persons are imitated by some peculiarity they have, such as a mode of walking, talking, bowing, &c. the spectators have to guess who is meant, every failure being paid for by a certain number of bon-bons. of course the descriptions are unflattering; the more they are so the greater being the laughter excited. many of the described would have been astonished could they have seen how cleverly they were caricatured. there was a luckless secretary of one of the smaller legations who seemed a favourite victim, as he certainly had many "odd" ways. amongst the many distinguished men whose acquaintance we made was c---pasha, a man who in talent may perhaps rival, but who in moral qualities is far below, f---pasha. in fact, c---pasha, from the stormy impetuosity of his character, and from an unfortunate tendency he has of occasionally taking the law into his own hands, rather resembles the old turk as he was, than the modern turk as he is. c---pasha is a handsome man, about fifty years of age, with a very intellectual, acute face. a singularly square chin, and a closely-compressed mouth, give an expression of fierce determination, almost amounting to cruelty, to the countenance when in repose. as soon as he speaks, however, the whole face lights up with a kind of merry good-humour, which is inexpressibly winning; and though, if all tales may be believed, he is somewhat of a bluebeard, and has committed crimes which, in other countries, would have brought him to the scaffold, it is impossible not to be pleased, almost in spite of oneself, by a manner unusually frank and earnest. there is a story (let us hope it is only a story, and not a truth) that he put to death, with his own hand, one of his odalisks, and a young secretary to whom he had seemed much attached. it is said that the pasha, walking one day in his garden, saw a rose thrown from a window in the harem. the flower was picked up by the secretary, who put it to his lips, and kissed it passionately as he looked up at the lattice. burning with indignation and jealousy, the pasha hastily repaired to the harem, and saw a young slave looking out of the window from which the rose had been thrown. drawing his knife, he crept softly behind the unfortunate girl, and in an instant had plunged it into her throat. the death-cry of the unhappy victim startled the household, and the secretary, finding the intrigue had been discovered, at first fled to the hills, but subsequently took refuge with one of the foreign ministers. he remained in the latter's household for a considerable time--so long, indeed, that he flattered himself the affair had been forgotten. at the expiration of some months, c---pasha sent or wrote to the young man, requesting him to return, and assuring him that, as he had thus with his own hand punished the guilty woman, his anger had been appeased. the secretary, therefore, resumed his post, and for some weeks all apparently went well. one day, however, the pasha, attended by his secretary, was again walking in the garden. on arriving at the spot where the rose had fallen, the pasha requested the young man to gather a flower that was growing near. unsuspicious of danger, the secretary obeyed, and as he bent down for the purpose, was stabbed to the heart by his revengeful master. this deliberate murder--for such, in fact, it was--made a considerable stir for a time; but the high rank and great influence of the offender prevailed against justice, and the affair was ultimately hushed up, the pasha, it is believed, having only to pay a considerable sum of money to the family of the murdered man. it must not be supposed that there are many, if indeed any, modern turks like our agreeable but unprincipled friend; but it is said that occasionally an erring odalisk disappears, and as it is nobody's business to inquire about her, no troublesome questions are asked. chapter vi. an eastern banquet. shortly before our departure from constantinople, we were so fortunate as to assist at a very grand turkish breakfast. it was given by a---pasha in honour of the brother of the viceroy, and to it were invited the principal members of the foreign embassies and legations, the turkish ministers, lord s----, and our humble selves. the banquet was to take place in a lovely kiosk belonging to a---pasha, at anokoi, a village on the bosphorus, between therapia and pera. as the english ambassador's state caïque passed the different military stations on its way down the bosphorus, the drums beat, and the guard turned out to do honour to the great man; a proceeding far more agreeable to us spectators than to the attaché, who, having been "told off" for the purpose, was placed in a prominent part of the boat, that he might perpetually take off his hat in answer to the incessant salutes. on arriving at anokoi, we found the landing-place beautifully arranged with awnings, carpets, and flags. gaily-decorated arabas also were in waiting to convey the guests to the top of the hill on which the kiosk stands. the road was steep and dusty, and the day was hot, so that we were not sorry to arrive at our destination; but had the way been twice as steep, and even if we had had to ascend it on foot, it would have been worth the climb to see the magnificent view. the kiosk was built on the edge of a rocky but wooded bank hanging over the bosphorus, and being thus on nearly the highest point near constantinople, an exquisite panorama of sea and land was stretched before us, bounded only on one side by the lovely blue outline of olympus, on the other by the expanse of misty grey that marked the black sea. our host, a---pasha, a specimen of the accomplished modern turkish gentleman, met us at the entrance of the garden. besides being very good-looking and agreeable, he speaks french admirably well, having been minister and ambassador at several foreign courts. this was, in fact, a farewell entertainment, as he was soon leaving constantinople for the post to which he had just been nominated. the banqueting-room was a large and lofty hall, beautifully painted in the munich fashion, and handsomely furnished with satin hangings and curtains, abundantly supplied with parisian couches, chairs, and lounges. the table was adorned with a profusion of gold and silver plate, interspersed with groups of flowers very artistically arranged. the déjeûner was excellent, but immensely long, for after the cinnamon, vegetable, white, and other soups, came an apparently endless procession of meats, boiled, baked, roasted, and stewed. there were whole animals and minced ones, also chickens and other poultry, stewed with pistachios and olives, fish rolled into balls and cooked with raisins, little birds wrapped in leaves, rice in many ways, pillau, caviare, fish known and unknown, innumerable vegetables and cheeses, and upwards of twenty sorts of sweets. the cookery was very good, though some of the dishes were overabundantly spiced for a western palate. the pastry was admirable, and the conserves quite the perfection of culinary art, for not only were the fruit and flowers excellent to eat, but they were beautiful to look at, the orange-flowers, rose-buds, and violets retaining their shape and colour as well as their flavour. the armenians, who are the principal confectioners, jealously guard their most celebrated recipes, that descend in many families as precious heirlooms from father to son. i was so fortunate as to be seated next a diplomat who thoroughly understands and appreciates both turkish and french cookery in all their minutest branches. he was kind enough to superintend my dinner, and an admirable selection he made, though at the same time it must be confessed that he seasoned the "plats" by such brilliant conversation that the contents of the plate before me were often unnoticed. to eat of such an army of dishes was impossible; some of the unlearned attempted it, not knowing, luckless creatures, what was before them, but broke down early in the day, and were "nowhere" when the fruit came. this was really a loss, for a murmur of admiration passed round the table, even the most trained and hardened old gourmands not being able to refrain from praise when the immense piles of fruit, in the perfection of their delicate beauty, were brought in--grapes, pines, peaches, apricots, figs, pomegranates, japanese medlars, dates, almonds, nectarines, melons, citrons, oranges, sweet lemons--it is impossible to recollect even the names, but each fruit was so beautiful that an artist would have said it was a picture. however, its fair loveliness did not preserve it from being eaten, for constantinople is a climate which makes fruit a necessary of life; without it one would really have fever. there were two bands, one instrumental and one vocal, that performed alternately during breakfast. the voices in the latter were not bad, though rather nasal, but the pieces they sang were pitched too high, and in consequence sounded monotonous and strained. the instrumental music was infinitely better. there were some wallachian gipsy airs which were perfectly charming. wild and mournful, like most national music, they were full of character, and every now and then a tender melody broke forth that was inexpressibly touching. a---pasha was so kind as to send us the next day the music of those we most admired, but without the wild, savage clang of eastern instruments they lose much of their effect. when the breakfast was at length over, we all adjourned to the garden, where sofas and chairs had been placed in the shade, round a small fountain. coffee and pipes were brought, and very merry and amusing was the talk. certainly the ottomans are moving onwards with the times. a hundred years ago who would have supposed that a grave turk would have been entertaining, not only christians, but christian women, and also devoting himself to them with an attention and kindness worthy of the most "preux chevalier" in christendom? rich and luxurious as had been the entertainment, the arrival of the pipes formed the culminating point of magnificence. many of them were so encrusted with jewels that it was difficult to form any estimate as to their value. the pieces of amber of which they were made were almost priceless, both for their size and the delicacy of their tint. yellow amber should be of the palest primrose hue, but there is another shade that is now much prized, namely, the black amber. this is exceedingly rare, and of course, therefore, exceedingly costly. the pasha was kind enough to give us a piece when he paid his last farewell visit the day before we left the bosphorus. most of our kind friends came on board the yacht that day to wish us good-bye and god speed, for at dawn the next day we were to sail for the crimea, and to judge by the stories that have been poured into our ears for some weeks past, the perils of the black sea for a sailing vessel must not only be very numerous, but very extraordinary. unluckily the only "detaining" result has been that our maid has taken fright, and resolutely refuses to leave constantinople. she says that, though devotedly attached to us, she does not think it right to put herself to death for anybody, especially as she has an old mother dependent upon her. she proposes, however, to return to us should we come back alive, which with tears in her eyes she declares is "most improbable." such being the cheerful view taken of our expedition, we find it impossible on such short notice to replace her. the few maids to be found here have an idea that we are doomed to death, and no amount of wages can tempt them to share our fate. one day we were buoyed up by the hope that there was a female heart stout enough to share our perils, but when a colossal german, about five feet ten high, and broad in proportion, appeared before us, our courage failed, and we felt she would be an incubus not to be endured. besides, it would be a question of the nicest calculation whether, provided even if she could get down the companion, she could by possibility squeeze into her cabin. the idea, too, of getting her on deck, should there be any sea, made the brain lose itself in a maze of distressing conjectures. as for ourselves, we began to grow proud of our courage in braving such unknown dangers, and felt rather like christian in "pilgrim's progress," as he prepares to plunge into the flood, and penetrate the dark mist that veils the other side. but in truth the opening into the black sea is often a very "uncanny" looking place, for at every change of weather a dense white fog hangs over it. all the bad winds are said to come from the black sea, all the rain, all the squalls, so that at any rate, deserved or undeserved, it has got a very bad name, and we know that a bad name, whether given to a dog, a man, or a sea, loses nothing by time or telling. the sea was calm, and the wind was favourable; but our first day's sail on the black sea was marked, and our hearts were troubled by a domestic calamity. about ten days before we left the bosphorus a bottle had been let down into the water to cool, and when it was drawn up again a curious little fish was found entangled in the string. it was about five inches long, and had the head of a horse, with the body and tail like those of the old fabulous dragon. we found it was called the hippocampus, or sea horse; and though not uncommon on the coasts of japan and china, it is rarely seen in these seas, and still more rarely taken alive. the russian ambassador, prince l----, who happened to be on board when the capture was made, is a great naturalist, and by his advice we put our prize into a glass bowl, with a small supply of its favourite seaweed. for many days the little creature did very well, and we used to watch with much interest its active, graceful movements. one morning, to our great astonishment, we found our friend surrounded by an immense family, about fifty little ones having made their appearance during the night. the mother seemed none the worse for such a prodigious event; and her children, who were about a quarter of an inch long, and perfect sea-horses in miniature, darted about with as much activity and liveliness as their parent. we were so unfortunate as to possess an excellent steward,--domenico by name, neapolitan by birth,--who, with the most earnest endeavours to do right, and with the most anxious activity in so doing, always contrived to understand everything à travers, and who, therefore, by his misplaced zeal and energy, often drove us to the verge of distraction by his well-intentioned but unlucky efforts. we had, of course, given him strict orders never to touch our little pets. the yacht lay-to just opposite a small village at the entrance of the black sea, and here domenico went on shore to get some of the necessaries always required at the last moment. seeing some of the seaweed which we needed for our little fish, and which it was not always easy to get, he wisely brought back some with him, but in his unwise zeal was rashly putting it into the bowl when, being suddenly called, he turned hastily, and stumbled, upsetting the glass and its precious contents. the mother was put back alive, but alas! all the fragile little ones were dead. great was our grief and vexation, and we had not even the consolation of scolding the wretched domenico. he was so distressingly contrite and unhappy at the fatal results of his disobedience, that he left us nothing to add to the storm of reproaches that he showered upon himself. the mother sea-horse lived for about a fortnight after this sad misfortune; whether she mourned at having thus lost, at one fell swoop, all her large little family, or whether she herself had sustained some injury, we could never discover; but she dwindled and dwindled, and was found one day dead; so all we could do was to preserve her little remains in spirits of wine. we had given a great many of the young ones to prince l----, who wished to take them to st. petersburg with him, but they did not survive many days, and their little dried bodies alone reached their destination. a favourable breeze soon carried us within sight of the coast of the crimea. the air was balmy, the sea was bright, though it had no longer the intense blueness that is so characteristic of the bosphorus and the mediterranean; the atmosphere, also, had a certain mistiness about it more akin to northern regions. we were not very far from the land, and could see that the country was flat and barren. in the far distance we could trace the faint outlines of a range of hills. chapter vii. eupatoria. we coasted on, the shore becoming lower and lower, until at length nothing was to be seen but an arid, sandy plain stretching away for miles. not a tree or house broke its dull uniformity. in the midst of this gloomy desert is eupatoria. it would be difficult to find a more wretched-looking little place. the town consists of a tumble-down mosque, a couple of christian churches, a caravanserai for strangers, and a few low miserable houses. there is also a small wooden landing-place, and a few huts, like sentry-boxes, scattered along the shore. these huts, however, make the fortune, such as it is, of eupatoria. they are the famous mud baths well known in the crimea, and during the summer are resorted to, from all parts of southern russia, by persons afflicted with skin diseases. there is one sad malady for which these baths are peculiarly efficacious. this complaint consists in the skin becoming so thin that at times the slightest exertion may cause hæmorrhage to take place from any or all parts of the body; a wasting consumption being thus produced that usually ends fatally. the baths at eupatoria have effected some wonderful cures, and their reputation is of course increasing. the patient lies for some hours every day in the soft, healing muddy water, which, by degrees, makes a sort of artificial coating by leaving the sediment upon the body. the skin is thus protected until it can regain its proper health and thickness. we afterwards met a russian in sevastopol who had been quite cured by this singular remedy. immediately in front of the landing-place is the caravanserai, a long, low building, with galleries. it contains a number of small, empty rooms, of which any traveller may take possession for a night. we watched the arrival of a large party, who came in wearily with their tired horses and camels, having come across the great steppe, or wilderness, that for a hundred miles or more lies to the north of eupatoria. side by side with the mosque, the walls almost joining, is the principal greek church, and round it are the best houses, which we, on landing, thought very wretched; but having been brought to a proper degree of depression by a walk through the town, we found them quite comfortable as we returned. it would be difficult to find a place more squalid and filthy than this miserable little town. eyes and nose are equally offended; and after the delicate cleanliness so apparent in the turks and their houses, eupatoria and its inhabitants appeared the more revolting. men, women, and houses looked as if water had been a luxury unknown to them from the earliest days. oil, oil everywhere--on the walls, in the clothes, in the air, even on the ground. one would have expected to see it running in the gutters, could anything run here, but everything liquid seems to stagnate, and turn into sticky mud. nothing was clean except the kittens, and they may fairly claim to be counted amongst the population of the town, so numerous were they. the bazaars were better supplied than might have been supposed from the poverty-stricken appearance of the place. the bread was fairly good, and fruit very abundant. the melons, especially, were excellent, and exceedingly cheap. we bought some of the finest in the market for little more than two copecks (about a penny) apiece. the day following our arrival we went on shore about six o'clock, in order to have a long drive into the steppe. whilst waiting for our conveyance we went into the greek church, and found it crowded with people, it being the feast of the assumption. the full dress of the greek priests is very magnificent. one of those now officiating had a robe of silver tissue, with a large cape of crimson velvet, half covered with gold embroidery. the custom, also, of wearing the hair long adds much to the picturesque appearance of the greek "papas." the youngest of the three priests had a singularly beautiful face, in shape and colouring like one of leonardo da vinci's pictures of our saviour. the hair, wavy and silky as that of a woman, and of a reddish, or rather golden-brown shade, hung in rich masses over his shoulders, nearly down to his waist. the congregation was composed principally of men of the lower classes, dressed in the ordinary costume of russian peasants. this consists of a sheepskin coat, a cap of the same material, very full cloth trousers, and great leather boots. although well clad, and with no appearance of poverty about them, yet there was in the attitude and bearing of these men an expression of deep humility, almost amounting to slavishness, that was painful to see. very remarkable, also, was the utter joylessness of the faces around. there was no lack of intelligence, but these poor people looked as if the very power of being happy or cheerful had died away within their hearts. occasionally during the service they prostrated themselves in the turkish fashion, by touching the ground with their foreheads; but for the greater part of the time they were crossing themselves diligently. no man could have crossed himself less than two or three hundred times during the hour we remained in the church. before the service had quite concluded, a sound, as if a lot of old saucepans had been dragged to the door, accompanied by the stamping of horses and the shouts of men, announced that our carriage had arrived, and on going out we found a wonderful-looking conveyance awaiting us. a long box, something like an unpainted hearse, had been fastened by bits of rope and bands of iron to a set of wheels which looked as if they had originally belonged to a gun-carriage; and it was evident that springs were a luxury not to be expected. there were no seats, but some straw, covered by a couple of sheepskins, had been put in for us to sit upon. we climbed up, and arranged ourselves as well as we could, but with some dismal forebodings on the subject of fleas, which, unhappily, were fully realised. we tumbled and bumped over a sort of track, passing through a wretched street of decayed warehouses, and almost equally ruinous huts, and then by a row of windmills, so small that they looked like children's toys, till we came to the open country, or steppe. it would be difficult to imagine anything more desolate than the arid plain that stretches beyond eupatoria, on the north side, as far as eye can reach. it is half marsh, half sand, and for many months during the winter lies partially under water. here and there may be seen a patch of reedy grass, like an oasis in the desert. on one of these two bactrian camels were feeding, and their uncouth forms and awkward movements were very appropriate adjuncts to the gloomy dreariness of the scene. bactrian camels differ from those of egypt and syria in having two humps instead of one; and being in general better bred, and consequently swifter than the animals in the latter countries, are of course more valuable. a drive of a few miles satisfied our curiosity respecting the steppe. we might have journeyed on for days and have still seen the flat, desolate plain stretching far, far away with the same gloomy monotony of dreariness. so, finding that the cramp was seizing us, and that our bones were decidedly aching from the bumps and blows we got in consequence of the primitive construction of our vehicle, we turned back towards the sea. along the shore were still lying the remains of some of the french vessels wrecked here during the storm of the 14th of november, 1854, and a mast or two, sticking up from a sand-bank at no great distance, showed where some other unfortunate ships had more recently found a grave. we had heard that there was a jewish synagogue here well worth seeing, and also interesting, as being the favourite burial-place of many rabbis of the russian jews. so, leaving the carriage at the entrance of the town, we dived into a perfect labyrinth of little, dark streets, even more unsavoury than those whose acquaintance we had already made. our guide halted under an ancient archway, and ringing a bell, in a few minutes the trap of a little grating was slipped aside, and a tremulous old voice asked who were the visitors, and what they wanted. the answer being satisfactory, bolts were withdrawn and chains let down, a small door opened, and we found ourselves in a deliciously clean, shady court, made dark and cool by trellises covered with vines, from which great bunches of rich purple grapes were hanging in tempting profusion. in the corners stood pots of the sweet clove-pink, and the sun's rays, softened by the shadowing vine-leaves, fell upon the marble pavement, beneath whose slabs lay the body of many a rabbi well known in jewish history. some of those, who were now resting in their last sleep in this quiet spot, had died the death of martyrs in poland and elsewhere, and, in secrecy and with much difficulty, their poor remains had been brought here to lie in peace amidst their brethren. the synagogue was a room about forty feet square. the walls were ornamented with hebrew sentences from the old testament, and in numerous little niches around lay the bibles and talmuds of the congregation. before a screen at the upper end was a small table, covered with a cloth that was a mass of gold, embroidery, and seed pearls. on either side were desks, on which lay the books of the law, and above the screen stood the golden candlesticks with their seven mystical branches. ostrich eggs and crimson horse-tails were suspended from the roof, as in a turkish mosque, and the floor was covered with an unusual number of magnificent persian rugs, laid one over the other. as we passed through some other small courts and gardens, we saw several women peeping at us from behind the doors. at length two or three gained courage enough to show themselves, and very pretty they looked in their picturesque costume. they had white chemises, with large loose sleeves, bound with red round the throat and arms, and a broad border of the same colour on their short black petticoats. they wore on their heads a little fez with a bright purple tassel, and each fair jewess had four or five thick plaits of hair hanging down almost to her feet. we were lost in admiration at the length and beauty of these tresses, but, alas! discovered that they were heirlooms, not growing on the heads, but sewn on to the fezzes of the wearers, and with care they may sometimes serve two, or even three generations. jews, as a class, are sometimes said to be oppressed and ill-treated in russia, but certainly in eupatoria they were the only people we saw who were clean and thoroughly well dressed, and whose houses appeared comfortable and comparatively free from oil. the wind favoured us, and we had an excellent run from eupatoria to old fort, where the english troops landed on the 14th of september, 1854. as we were rowing on shore the breeze shifted, and we suddenly found ourselves enveloped in a dense shower of locusts. the flight was so enormous that it quite darkened the air, and explained the meaning of a singular cloud we had been watching for some hours, thinking, as it came up, that it must bode either thunder or heavy rain. it was sufficiently disagreeable to have these revolting animals falling upon one every second, but this annoyance was as nothing compared with the horror of the smell that assailed us when we came to the shore. myriads of dead and dying locusts were lying in masses upon the ground. the day was intensely hot, and the sun, streaming upon the mass of decaying insects, seemed to draw a cloud of pestilential vapour from the ground, while every now and then a puff of sickening miasma came from a little piece of water close by, rightly called the foetid lake, from some peculiarity of the mud on its banks. my curiosity was not strong enough to enable me to endure the horrors of a walk over the dead and dying animals, so i fled to the boat, and, under the protection of a thick cloak and huge umbrella, waited there until the others had seen enough. for hours the yacht was passing through the swarm, or detachments of it. such numbers of the disgusting insects fell on the deck that two men were constantly employed in sweeping them into the sea. every window, every crevice, was kept carefully closed, for fear that one of them should get below. there is something inexpressibly revolting about these horrid animals. they fly, they crawl, and they cling, and, after having come in contact with them, we could well understand what a frightful infliction the plague of them in egypt must have been. wherever they pass they leave barrenness and pestilence. we hoped the flight we had met might be driven out to sea. it was a very large one, for long after we had passed through it, we could see the dark cloud extending along the horizon like hills. beyond old fort the country began to improve. the sandy plain gradually changed into gentle undulations, then rose to picturesque hills, and at last, in the distance, a range of fine mountains came in sight. here and there a few small farmsteads, surrounded by patches of cultivated ground, showed that the soil was more genial than that around eupatoria and old fort. in the glow of a lovely sunset, the sea gently breaking in little waves upon the beach, the lark singing above the corn-fields, in all the quiet and repose of a summer evening, we came upon the scene of the most awful strife and carnage the world has seen in modern times. as we lay in towards the shore, on our right was the steep bank up which the brave zouaves forced their way; the pretty grass-field beyond, where a flock of sheep were so peacefully feeding, was the deadly slope where so many of the noble and gallant 23rd welsh fusiliers died a soldier's death. that fearful day is now a story of long ago--but what english heart can look upon the field of alma and remain unmoved? the chalk cliffs near the sea are about thirty feet high, and are curiously intersected by strata of red gravel. as the sun slowly sank, these cliffs caught his last rays, and were dyed so deep a crimson that we could almost fancy the battle had but been to-day, and that the long dark stains were indeed the blood so nobly shed by our gallant soldiers. we hove-to opposite the mouth of the little river, and sent a boat on shore to see if we could land, but a cossack, who had been suspiciously watching the movements of the yacht all day (and a long hot ride he must have had), rode rapidly down to the beach, and, pointing his lance in very warlike fashion at the men, clearly demonstrated that no landing must be attempted. the boatswain, who spoke russ, tried to remonstrate, but an order had lately been sent from odessa, that no person should be allowed to land on the coast without a permit, so, with our destination before us, we had to set sail and depart. chapter viii. sevastopol. the next morning, soon after six a.m., we were awakened by the roar of cannon, and running on deck to ascertain the cause, found that the yacht was dashing along under a fresh breeze, and rapidly approaching the entrance to sevastopol. wreaths of smoke were curling round fort constantine. we could hear the hissing of the shot as it fell into the sea, and such warlike sights and sounds almost made one fancy we had come in time for the siege; but drawing near, the ruins that lay around, the masts, and the bits of wreck sticking up in all parts of the harbour (making the navigation both difficult and dangerous), showed we had but arrived to see the effects of war. even after the lapse of so many years, the scene of desolation was extraordinary. the forts are not even in ruins. so completely have they been destroyed, that only masses of broken stones show the sites where they once stood. on the heights are rows of handsome houses, or palace-like barracks, still roofless, the walls shattered, and grass growing thickly between the stones. the russians seem to have had as yet no heart or inclination to attempt seriously the work of restoration. a few houses have been made habitable, some rebuilt, but whole quarters have been left as they were at the termination of the siege. in some streets, where apparently a perfect storm of shot and shell must have descended, the walls of the houses left are so shattered that it seems almost unsafe to walk about amongst them--they look as if a gust of wind must bring them down. the principal church of st. nicholas has been restored, and houses have been built for the governor, admiral, and principal officials; but of the beautiful public buildings and magnificent palaces of which sevastopol was once so proud nothing now is left but the scorched, battered, and defaced skeletons. some of these poor remains still retain traces of their former grandeur. here and there a bit of tarnished gilding, pieces of what was once rich sculpture, traces of painting, the remains of stone or marble staircases, still cling to the crumbling walls. never again, in all probability, will this once beautiful city regain the prosperity and position she enjoyed before the fatal war that brought about her destruction. sevastopol was the pet child of several successive emperors, and unheard-of were the sums expended, not only on the naval and military defences of a place for many years deemed impregnable, but also for the decoration and improvements of her streets and public buildings. to insure the houses being well and handsomely built, and to assist also many of the naval and military officials, whose pay is generally so small that they can barely subsist upon it, the russian government had for many years adopted the following system:-the land, both in the town and immediately around it, was crown property. supposing an officer wished to build a house, he sent a plan of it to the minister of the interior, and an estimate made by the government architect. should the plan be approved, and if the house would cost, say, 20,000 roubles, the government would advance at once 10,000 roubles, and in two years time 10,000 more. this money was lent without interest for five years, but had then to be repaid by instalments. should the whole sum of 20,000 roubles not have been repaid within ten years, the house then became the property of the crown. this regulation, however, was seldom carried into effect, and the borrower was generally permitted to pay interest for the money until he could pay off the principal. as the houses were large and let in apartments, as in paris, the rents obtained were in most cases far greater than necessary to repay the interest of the money expended. in the old, merry days sevastopol was a very gay place. being the principal port of the black sea, the plymouth in fact of the empire of the czar, it was the great rendezvous of the fleet, and a large number of naval officers and their families were always resident. the immense garrison also made an important addition to the society, and many of the south russian families passed their winter in sevastopol, the climate being much more temperate than at either odessa or simpheropol. sevastopol, therefore, was considered, after st. petersburg and moscow, the gayest and most brilliant town in russia. its nearness also to the imperial villa at yalta made the official appointments eagerly sought after. but these gay balls, dinners, concerts, &c., are now only things of the past. the inhabitants can be counted by tens instead of by thousands, and but for the families of those whose duty obliges them to remain, the town would speedily cease to be. dull as sevastopol generally is, it was duller than usual during our stay, for several of the principal officials had been summoned to odessa to attend two of the imperial princes. those who remained, however, seemed as if they could not be kind enough, or friendly enough, to travellers from a country who a few years back had been so terrible an enemy. there has ever been such kind feeling and such friendship between russia and england that it must always be painful to an englishman to think circumstances should have forced us into a cruel war with an old and steady friend. the day after our arrival we got three droskies to take us to the redan and the neighbouring heights. crimean droskies are like very low gigs, and hold two persons besides the driver, who sits upon a small box or perch high above the body of the carriage. one of the horses is in shafts, with a wooden arch hung with bells over his head, the other is in traces on the left side. when well driven this horse canters while the other trots, and however rough and uneven the road, the pace is generally tremendous. the drivers were strange wild creatures, with long unkempt beards, and hair that flew out behind them like a cloud as we raced along. they wore coarse frieze coats, with long full skirts coming down to their heels, and loose trousers tucked into great wellington boots, so redolent of musk and train oil that every time their owner kicked the plank beneath his feet, in his energy to overcome some unusual difficulty, an odour was wafted to us that was far from resembling those that come from araby the blest. our progress was both noisy and exciting. on coming to a bad place the drivers stood up, stamped with excitement, shouting to their team, and addressing them in a stream of terms both of endearment and abuse. the horses tossed their heads as they struggled and plunged, the bells jangling furiously, and we could only hold tight as the light carriage bounded over hole or mound. carriage-hire is dear, each drosky costing about one rouble and a half an hour; a rouble is nearly 3s. 4d. in english money. the dust during the summer in and about sevastopol is quite remarkable, and can be only equalled by the mud in winter. the soil is principally of a description of chalk that rapidly pulverises during dry weather, and equally rapidly dissolves during wet. the result is that in summer the town and country seem wrapped in clouds of fine penetrating dust, and during winter the mud is ancle-deep. within ten minutes of our start we were as white as millers, and half-choked besides, as, perfectly regardless of our wishes and requests, the drivers occasionally amused themselves by racing, or else insisted upon keeping close to the wheels of the preceding carriage. after passing through street after street of ruins, we found ourselves in a narrow ravine immediately beneath the redan, and at about a quarter of a mile from the town came to the first or most advanced english trench. of course years have gradually levelled the soil, and now it is like a small dry ditch, but even had the mound raised been three times the height it now is, it seemed amazing that so slight an amount of earth could have been sufficient to protect the soldiers from the rain of shot so unceasingly poured from the town. even with gabions on the top, the men could not have stood upright in the trench. about fifty yards up the valley was a mound of earth with two "dents" in it. this had been an english battery of two guns, and the dents marked the places where the cannon had stood. higher up was another trench, then another battery, and so on, until, the defile making a turn, the town was no longer commanded. now and then we passed a small enclosure surrounded by rough walls, or came to a heap of earth with a few stones piled upon its summit. these are the resting-places of many of our soldiers. there are no names, in a few more years even these slight traces will be obliterated, and the earth, once so deeply dyed with their blood, will give no token of the brave hearts she has taken to her bosom. these humble graves, the only record of so many unknown but gallant men, all of whom had died fighting for their country, appeal even more powerfully to the feelings than the long line of grand monuments on cathcart's hill, though many great and distinguished names are recorded there. many can understand and share lord nelson's feelings when he exclaimed, "a peerage, or westminster abbey;" but how hard to die for one's country, knowing that that country will not even remember the name of its poor servant! after winding up the valley for another mile and a half, we left the road, and ascending a little down or grass field found ourselves within half a mile of the redan. strange to say, though we had mounted to a considerable height, but very little of the town was visible from the spot where we were. seen from the sea, sevastopol appears to stand in an amphitheatre of hills, that apparently command it on every side; but, in fact, there are only two heights that really do so--namely, those of the malakoff and the redan. the view was extensive, and we could see, for a considerable distance inland, over an undulating but now barren country. the ground around had been so torn and rent by the iron storm of shot and shell, that it looked as if it had been badly ploughed by awkward giants, but time has now covered the ugly wounds with a soft vesture of grass and thyme. nature has done all the reparation that has been made. we could see no traces of cultivation in any direction, neither were any cattle or sheep to be seen feeding on the miles of short, sweet down grass that would have been so suitable for them; but where war lays her destroying hand, the labours and improvements of centuries are destroyed in as many hours. a sandy track led to the redan, the ground at every step giving more and more evidence of the deadly struggle that had taken place. in every direction huge ragged holes and fissures showed where mines had been sprung, and monstrous rents in the ground, close to the fort, marked where some battery had poured a stream of fiery shot, that had torn its way through earth, and stone, and iron with appalling strength. bullets and pieces of shot and shell are still to be found in abundance, and women and children are constantly employed in turning over the earth in search of these relics, and also of the small brass crosses, one of which is always worn by every russian soldier. standing on the edge of the ditch, the desperate nature of the attack could be better appreciated. the ditch was about fifteen feet deep, with a tremendous chevaux-de-frise at the bottom, and the guns of the fort were so numerous that the embrasures were not more than a few feet apart. it is difficult to imagine a more appalling position than to have to lead troops on to such certain death. our guide, who had belonged to the land transport corps, saw the attack made. the most advanced english trench was about a hundred and fifty feet from the redan, and it was from here the final rush was made. on came the officers closely followed by the devoted regiments, and through the deadly hail of shot and grape that was pouring from the russian guns, the attacking columns rushed up the fatal slope. but few of these gallant men entered the breach, the terrific fire mowed them down by hundreds, and in a few seconds the ground was covered with the dead and dying. "never," said our informant, "could he forget the hideous yells, shouts, and shrieks that filled the air." the first man who raised the english standard on the russian bastion was captain robert preston, but he had scarcely waved it in the air when he fell, pierced by twenty wounds. our guide saw him fall, on a heap of dead russians, with the gabions on fire by his side. inside the fort the number of mines that had been sprung had so riddled the ground that much caution was required to avoid falling into the great holes. the sun had now set, twilight in these countries is very short, for darkness soon comes on, and just when the grey duskiness of evening gave additional gloom to the dreary scene of desolation and ruin around, quietly stealing from behind the broken wall of the nearest graveyard came creeping a lean, savage jackal. so noiseless and so stealthy were his movements, that at times his dark grey form could scarcely be distinguished from the dark grey stones by which he stole so cautiously. breathlessly we watched the savage creature as he prowled along. the wind blowing strongly towards us, for a few minutes we were undetected, but very soon a slight rustle made by one of the party betrayed our neighbourhood, and in a second, with a vicious snarl and snap, the animal was bounding off, with long loping strides, towards the open country. in wild countries troops of jackals always form part of the camp-followers of a great army. as the vulture and the crow scent carrion, so does the instinct of the jackal tell him where human bodies are interred, and unless the surrounding walls are high and strong, many a burial-place has been desecrated by these savage and cowardly animals. chapter ix. traces of war. we started one fine, sunny morning, at eight o'clock, for a long expedition to cathcart's hill and st. george's monastery. we left the town by the valley beneath the redan, but instead of taking the turn to the left that leads to the fort, followed the course of the defile until we arrived at some table land, where are the remains of the english picket house. close by is the burial-ground of the light division. it is surrounded by low but well-built walls. neglect, however, and the rapid growth of weeds have made many of the inscriptions, and even some of the graves, invisible. in the centre stands a pyramid, bearing inscriptions both in english and russ to the officers and men belonging to the light division. one monument had the following words, deeply cut in the stone: "sacred to the memory of the officers, non-commissioned officers, and men of the 77th regiment, who lost their lives in the service of their country during the campaign in the crimea. this monument is erected by the officers of the regiment, as a humble tribute of respect to the fortitude and bravery of their fallen comrades." pushing aside the grass and rank weeds, we found the names of many friends, and with the aid of parasols and sticks, cleared some graves from the tangled growth of years, and planted upon them tufts of sweet-scented thyme and a little blue flower very like the forget-me-not. from some we gathered a few coarse wild-flowers, and even blades of grass, to bear home to mothers whose hearts are still aching for the brave young dead who have but a soldier's grave so far from home and from those who loved them. many we had known well, in the brightest hours of their youth and happiness, were sleeping here in bloody graves. no words can adequately express the depression of spirits which must come after passing hours in going from burial-ground to burial-ground, only to see where those, once so loved in life, so honoured in their death, now lie--uncared for, unthought of--in cemeteries that, instead of being evidences of a nation's gratitude and reverence, are now untended and forgotten, a tangled mass of weeds, and but fit homes for the jackal and the fox. leaving the woronzoff road on the right, we came to a knoll, or patch of rising ground, from whence an excellent view of the town can be had. it was here that the non-fighting visitors usually took up their position, for not only could a good general view of the camps and town be obtained, but, with glasses, it was easy to see the people walking in the streets. the road passes by a small village, where, standing in the midst of some neat enclosures, with a well-filled farmyard at its rear, is a low one-storied house. this unpretending little building was once the head-quarters of the english staff, and here poor lord raglan breathed his last. notwithstanding the severe losses and sufferings that were caused to its owners by their home and property being seized by the enemy, monsieur and madame b---receive with kindness and hospitality any english who may wander here. we are, however, at present the only foreigners who have visited sevastopol this year. in a small sitting-room a marble slab has been let into the wall, over the place where the bed stood on which lord raglan died. in the wood of the folding doors are cut the names of field-marshal lord raglan, general simpson, and sir william codrington. the temporary grave in which the body of the noble old soldier was placed previous to its removal to england, has also been well cared for. willows hang over the spot, and it is surrounded by a border of rose-bushes and flowers. a tale of the troubles caused by war is always sad to hear, and the family, at whose hospitable board we were seated, had been absolutely ruined by their losses, and were now attempting to begin the world afresh; but though monsieur b---is an energetic farmer and works, his wife says, early and late, he has hitherto reaped but little reward for his toil. life, commerce, energy, have alike deserted sevastopol, and there is but little or no market either there or in the neighbourhood. poor little madame b----, with tears in her pretty eyes, deplored in fervent language the loss of her comfortable home. her husband was with his regiment on the north side, when the rapid approach of the allies obliged her and her children to fly for safety to simpheropol. she left a house, well, almost luxuriously furnished, and returned at the end of the war to find but bare walls--not even a chair had been left. the farm and garden gone--gone also the woods and valuable vineyards, the very roots of which had been torn up and burnt. our graceful little hostess, however, with a tender regard for the feelings of her stranger guests, hastened to add that the ruin of the place was not owing to the english army, whose generals had kindly striven to save and to spare as much as possible, but to those human locusts, the tartar camp-followers. from cathcart's hill we drove to kerani, a desolate little village lying amongst the hills near balaclava. there were about half-a-dozen half-ruined wooden hovels, and a couple of better-class houses, although these were also built of wood. to one of these we were most kindly welcomed by colonel s----. the long sloping roofs, weighted by large stones, and the peculiarly small windows, only seen in stormy countries, showed how severe the winters must sometimes be here, and we were told that, though cold is seldom of long continuance, and though snow rarely remains for many days upon the ground, yet the gales of wind during the winter months are of extraordinary violence, the long narrow gullies with which the hills are intersected acting as funnels, down which the raging tempest hurries with increasing fury and strength. in general, however, the gales, though severe, are short, and in the memory of man no such terrible winters had been known as those experienced by our troops during the two years they were in the crimea. never before had such intense cold been known; never before had the storms been so prolonged and incessant. direct manifestations, it was believed by the lower order of russians, that providence itself was against the unrighteous invasion of the land. we had a pleasant luncheon at colonel s----'s, and the live stock of the yacht was increased by the kind gift (rather to mr. harvey's horror) of a pair of quite lovely geese. we had not believed the usually despised goose could be so beautiful a bird. these geese were as white as snow, had backs and wings covered with long curling feathers like ostrich plumes, and had bright pink bills and feet; but for their unfortunate voices they might have set up for swans. our dear birds, however, did not approve of being summarily torn from the paternal pond and packed in a basket, so they hissed and cackled all the rest of the day in a thoroughly goose-like and provoking manner. from kerani we went to st. george's monastery--a long low building, standing apparently in a flat, ugly country; but on passing through an archway, and descending a few steps, an enchanting view was before us. the convent is built upon the extreme edge of a steep wooded cliff overhanging a little bay. paths had been cut through the wood, and wound down between trees and rocks to the verge of the sea, where tiny waves were coming quietly in upon a shining beach, trickling back amongst the many-coloured shells and stones with a pleasant murmur, most refreshing on such a burningly hot day. but the sun was now glowing with almost blinding heat upon this the western side, so we retired into the interior of the building until the intolerable glare should have somewhat subsided. there are now only five brethren of the order living at st. george. since the war the number has greatly diminished, and some are required for another house at simpheropol. we were invited to have some tea, an offer we thankfully accepted, and while it was getting ready were asked to pay a visit to the cells. they were fairly comfortable, indeed better than may be found in many religious houses in italy and france, that have not so strict a rule as the greek convents. each brother was provided with a table, a stool, some boards on tressels for a bed, a mattress (certainly very thin), and a blanket; but what can monks wish for more? in the greek church, the severity of monastic life consists principally in the length and rigid observance of the frequent fasts, and in the small amount of sleep that is permitted. there is scarcely a religious house in which meat is ever eaten, and twice a week, during the long fast of easter, only one meal a day is allowed, consisting of beans boiled with oil. as there are no inns in this part of the world, excepting in towns, monasteries answer the purpose, and though payment is not permitted, each traveller, ere he departs, is expected to drop an offering into the poor-box. while waiting for the tea, some water was brought from the famous spring of st. george. it is celebrated for miles around, and well deserves its fame. fresh, sparkling, and cold as if iced, it was really nectar. well for us it was so, for we needed some little compensation for the disappointment that awaited us with respect to the much-wished-for, long-promised tea. the eagerly-expected beverage, when it did at last arrive, was brought in tumblers, without either milk or sugar, and being a very strong decoction of something bitter, between sloes and haystalks, it was so like a horrid medicine called "black draught," that nothing but the strongest exertion of good manners could enable one to swallow even a few drops. at six o'clock we went into chapel for the ave maria. the chapel is a neat little building, detached from the monastery, and has some altar-pieces remarkably well painted. the pictures of the saints were covered with plaques of gold and silver in alto-relievo, and had glories of precious stones around their heads. the congregation was very limited, for it consisted of only three brethren, the sacristan, and one old woman, but the service was got over with wonderful speed, though with no apparent disrespect of manner. vespers over, we were shown the chapel. behind the altar-screen was an exceedingly good picture of the crucifixion, but as it was in a part of the building that women are not allowed to profane by their unholy presence, my sister and i had to remain on the other side of the altar, the monks most good-naturedly drawing aside curtains, and trying to give us as good a view as possible. the evening had by this time become cool and pleasant, so we strolled down the cliffs to look at the ancient chapel, the hanging gardens, and the renowned spring. excepting its antiquity, the former possesses no interest; it is a very small stone building, supposed to have been erected by the genoese when they occupied this country, but both in form and decoration it is remarkably simple. the stream poured forth from the rock with delicious freshness, dashing, in a series of tiny cascades, from terrace to terrace, ever sprinkling with a shower of brilliant drops the mosses and tender ferns that grew on its banks, until, on reaching the good monks' gardens, it flowed decorously through appointed channels. then, its duties over, it gave one glad bound, as a miniature waterfall, over the rocks into the sea, and was lost in the embrace of its mighty mother. the terrace-gardens are beautifully kept, for the monks labour in them unceasingly. the good fathers are the principal doctors of the district, and grow, therefore, not only vegetables for their own use, but most of the plants and herbs required for medicinal purposes. it was late before we returned to sevastopol, but the drive back in the cool night air was very refreshing. as we descended the heights into the town, we could see the bright lights of our many-coloured little turkish lanterns shining a cheerful welcome to us from the yacht. it is worth while to feel very tired, in order to experience the inexpressible feeling of comfort that comes over one when, on getting on board, we find the tea-table invitingly prepared on deck, the samovar bubbling merrily under the teapot, the little kitten ready for a game of play, and everything speaking of the snugness and rest of home. the country immediately around sevastopol looks rather pretty, and is pleasant enough in fine weather. the air on the heights is fresh and invigorating, and the clearness of the atmosphere gives a charm to the distant views both over sea and land. a very few hours' rain, however, makes the place quite detestable, for it is impossible to move out, either in the town or beyond it, without having to wade through a perfect slough of sticky white mud. the misery and illness that must have prevailed in the camps, after days of continued down-pour, can be easily imagined. our first visit to marshal pelissier's head-quarters was made on one of these melancholy days. a scotch mist, that had been driven in from the sea, gradually changed into a steady, soaking rain, but we were too far from home to turn back, and being fortunately well cloaked and shod, in forlorn procession we waded through puddles and mud from graveyard to graveyard. to the credit of the french nation, they are far better tended than ours. still the scene was gloomy enough to suit the gloomy day. the huts, formerly inhabited by the troops, have fallen into ruins, and the wood is rotting on the ground. here and there are huge mounds of broken bottles and other refuse, and near them again are great pits, where infected clothing, &c., were burnt during the time the cholera was raging. the french head-quarters seem to have been very well placed, for though on a commanding height, they must have been in a great measure protected from the cruel north wind that blew with such bitter severity into the english tents on cathcart's hill. even black clouds and depressing rain could not make us insensible to the beauty of the valley of tchernaia. it lies deep amongst rocks, with a fine range of chalk hills in the distance. the long white lines on their rugged sides looked like snow whenever a straggling ray of light fell upon them through the dark and heavy mass of clouds. quite at the upper end of the valley, where it turns to the right towards balaclava, are two low hills, covered with the ruins of sir colin campbell's camp. the long flat piece of ground beneath these will be ever memorable as the scene of the famous charge of cavalry. the little plain forms a sort of amphitheatre, as it is partly surrounded at one end by a series of hillocks or rising ground. on these commanding positions were posted the russian guns. even an inexperienced eye could see at a glance that the devoted regiments must have been rushing to certain death. it seems marvellous that men can be so trained to passive obedience, that, without a murmur, they hurry to their doom. every officer, at any rate, was probably aware that the heroic effort could but be a useless sacrifice of human life. what must have been the agony of those who were forced to look on at such frightful and unnecessary carnage, powerless to prevent, and powerless to aid? balaclava is a quaint little place, completely shut in by hills and rocks. the entrance to the harbour from the sea is very difficult to find even when quite close to it, so curiously does the channel twist and turn about. it must have been once a better-class village than any we had yet seen, for the church, though in a dilapidated state, is large, and the houses, though partly in ruins, are of good size. some have been repaired, and most are inhabited, but everything speaks of ruin and discouragement. the landing-place is rotting in the water, the warehouses made by the english are rotting on the shore, and the dirty, dreary-looking people seem as if they were decaying away in their poverty and hopelessness. drinking is unhappily the prevailing vice in the crimea. we rarely went on shore without seeing several tipsy men. towards evening one generally meets wives and daughters dutifully wheeling their husbands and fathers home in barrows. yesterday we met a procession of five being thus brought back in triumph from some prolonged carouse. to the credit of the fair sex, it is but just to say we have not seen one woman so degradingly overcome. the russian women we have hitherto seen, though they cannot be called pretty, have generally very pleasant faces. their voices are sweet and low, and the gentleness of their manner is very prepossessing. it is impossible, however, not to feel that so much timidity probably originates in the harsh treatment they experience in their homes, for the men, though humble and cringing when addressing their superiors, are coarse and boorish to their inferiors. these observations, of course, only refer to the lower classes. amongst the higher ranks, russians of both sexes are quite remarkable for their charm of manner and peculiar talents for society. the extraordinary kindness we received from every family whose acquaintance we made during our stay in the crimea, quite endeared these kind people to us, and personal experience enables us to say that russian friendship does not limit itself to charming manners alone. during our stay in sevastopol, we became well acquainted with several of the ladies who had remained in the town during the siege. with the exception of one, all were wives or daughters of officers in command, and who, with noble devotion, had refused to leave their relations in the hour of danger. with unwearied zeal they laboured in the hospitals, for, notwithstanding every effort, the amount of attendance was lamentably deficient, and it was only possible to provide for the more pressing need of the sufferers. all unite in saying that the courage and fortitude of these ladies were beyond praise. many of them were quite young girls, but, regardless of personal danger, they not only visited the hospitals, but wherever illness or suffering required their presence these true sisters of mercy were to be found. death was ever before them, for who could tell where or when would come the fatal shot? day and night shells were exploding in the devoted town. no spot was safe. when sleeping in their homes, or praying in their churches, the fiery shot might come crashing through the walls, dealing death and destruction around. the narrow escapes related to us might fill a volume. one lady had barely left the side of a wounded man, when a shot came through the roof, instantly terminating the sufferings of the patient, and injuring another in a neighbouring bed. one charming young girl, mademoiselle androvna r----, daughter of a general commanding a division, had been in sevastopol from the beginning of the siege until the end. she was an only daughter, but her father and two brothers were soldiers, and she remained with them to be, as they said, "their guardian angel." although so many years have now elapsed, androvna was strongly moved as she spoke of the anguish of that terrible time. parting almost daily, in ignorance as to whether they should ever meet again, when again they met the little family felt as if it were impossible they could all be much longer spared. sometimes a brother would have to proceed to an advanced post, and then it might be days before they would know whether he was amongst the living or the dead. one day, as androvna was on her way to the hospital, she met the sad procession of the wounded as they were carried in, and found her youngest brother amongst the number; but the young man, though he bears the marks of a fearful sword-cut across the face, and has lost an arm, still lives, to love and cherish his devoted sister, who nursed him through his sufferings with the tenderest care. who could think of personal danger when in such agony of anxiety for loved ones, who were hourly exposed to far greater peril? so great was the strain upon the nerves, that androvna says she believed she should have gone mad but for the supporting duty she felt it to attend the sick and wounded in the hospitals. by the bedside of these poor sufferers self was for a time forgotten, and when she could occasionally creep away to some neighbouring church, and on her knees before her patron saint lay down her burden of sorrow and anxiety, then peace and courage returned to her heavily-laden heart. she had, however, personally some narrow escapes. one day, for instance, she was sitting in her room, with a pet dog lying at her feet, when a shot came crashing through part of the house. the little animal at her side was crushed to death by a falling piece of wood, but the young girl happily escaped with a few slight bruises. chapter x. valley of tchernaia. not being at all satisfied with only having seen the fair valley of tchernaia in the gloom of rain and wind, we resolved to try whether the glow of a fine summer day would not heighten its charms. one warm sunny morning, therefore, we put a basket of provisions and a russian dictionary in the yacht's cutter, and set off to breakfast under the trees in a pleasant grass field beyond inkerman. the wind was contrary, so we had to row across the harbour, and for about a mile up the river tcherné; it then became favourable, and strong enough to enable us to stem the little current, so, setting a sail, we glided up the stream most pleasantly and rapidly. grèbe, divers, and other water-fowl were continually darting in and out of the masses of reeds that grew along the banks, and at a sudden turn of the river a great eagle, probably disturbed at his morning meal, rose slowly in the air, and sailed away majestically towards the mountains. it was very early; the morning breeze was deliciously cool and fresh, and as we lazily reclined on our comfortable seats, listening to the soft sound of the water as it rippled against the bows of the boat, or to the merry voices of the children as they chattered to their favourite domenico, it seemed as if life could offer nothing pleasanter than to be thus gliding away in the summer sunshine towards unknown scenes and beauties. whatever might have been the worthy domenico's faults with respect to his masters, he was admired and adored by every child who came near him. he had an art, quite peculiar to himself, for turning everything he saw into something not intended by nature. leaves, flowers, sticks, stalks, became astonishing musical instruments after passing through his cunning hands, and he would weave rushes, leaves, and flowers into garlands, baskets, and a variety of pretty things, with a rapidity and skill that was quite marvellous, and of course to the intense delight of the little folk around him. his pipes and whistles, also, blew better and with greater shrillness than any pipes and whistles that ever were known. should occasion require he could be an admirable cook; he could sing buffo songs with a talent worthy of san carlino itself; he could make clothes; he could improvise clever verses; but unfortunately his inspirations would come to him at unlucky moments, and while he was meditating a stanza more sublime than usual a pile of plates or dishes would fall from his hands, and his soaring spirit would be brought back to earth by an energetic remonstrance on his carelessness. happily he had not been in a poetic vein when he packed the breakfast basket. the only thing omitted was some fruit, a want that was soon supplied, for we passed a small house where the trellises were absolutely laden with grapes, and we bought a large basket of them for something under half a rouble. we continued our course up the river, passing between water-meadows that had quite a park-like appearance from some fine old trees that had happily escaped destruction. the many ranges of hills also that could be seen as the valley opened were very beautiful, for though hardly lofty enough to deserve the name of mountains, the line of the more distant was rugged and bold, and in the clear atmosphere tier upon tier could be seen, till the last faded away in the blue distance. while we went to look at the ruined village of inkerman the sail was taken in, and as, owing to the large beds of rushes, the stream was rapidly narrowing, we took to the oars again, until we arrived opposite a small church and a few little houses that had been hewn out of the cliff itself. the tcherné divides here into several channels, all too shallow for the boat, so we landed, and establishing ourselves under some large trees, found a pleasant shelter from the sun, whose rays had now become both fierce and overpowering. we spread our breakfast on the grass, close to a delicious little ford, where the water, quite put out of temper by the impeding stones, dashed and tossed itself about in sparkles of brilliant rage. at length, throwing itself down in a fierce little set of passionate cascades, it recovered its calmness, and quietly subsided into the gentle stream beneath. can anything be more beautiful than such a stream? and what delight greater than to rest thus under the shadow of great trees, watching the sunshine as it plays on bank, and tree, and meadow, and to know also one is far away from the working, weary troubles and pleasures of the world? seated on the warm, dry turf, we passed a couple of hours very luxuriously, and somewhat idly. in fact, some of the party indulged in a little slumber, a weakness quite to be forgiven, for the day and place seemed alike made for repose. not a breath stirred the air, the leaves hung motionless on the trees, the bees hummed drowsily among the flowers. the very birds were silent, the reed-sparrow alone sending forth her monotonous piping note from some neighbouring bushes, and the tinkling sound of the falling water made the most soothing music imaginable. however, after a time we crossed the stream by means of the little ford, and ascended the cliff to the church and village; but church and houses were alike deserted. the door of the former was locked and the houses were empty. not a soul was to be seen anywhere. we hunted about some time in hopes of finding the key--for we had been told the chapel was well worth seeing, and contained some curious old pictures--but in vain. the door was so old and shaky that a vigorous blow would have broken it open, but not thinking so felonious a mode of entrance suitable to the character of the edifice, we walked back towards inkerman by a path that gave us beautiful views of the valley and mountains. the village of inkerman no longer exists; a few blackened walls alone mark its site. the battle was fought on the rising ground immediately above the valley, and the earth still retains many memorials of the bloody strife. half buried in the soil, close to a low wall, we found part of a broken sword; and any number of flattened bullets, buttons, and portions of soldiers' decorations could be easily had by digging up the earth with parasol handles or sticks. on the highest point has been placed a simple stone monument to the memory of all the combatants who fell in that terrible struggle. english, french, and russians there share alike in the honour of that fatal day; and truly a soldier's glory seems but a very little thing. a short walk along the rising ground brought us to all that is now left of the malakoff. there are two ditches round it, but neither of them is as deep as that which surrounds the redan. the fort itself, however, is very much larger, and in the centre are the ruins of a low, flat tower. it was originally bomb-proof, but the french blew it up when they obtained possession, and now barely half of the building remains standing. the malakoff so completely overlooks and commands the town that even the non-combatant can perceive how useless must have been any attempt to hold sevastopol when once this, the key as it were to the position, was in possession of the allies. those who held the malakoff and the redan had virtually sevastopol, for shot and shell from these forts could be poured like hail into the devoted town. these two great outposts lost by the russians, all further struggle on their part must have been hopeless. count k---tells us that in fact prince menschikoff had resolved to evacuate the town, and retire to the north side, when the quarries and the mamelon had fallen into the hands of the allies; and he would have done so before the attack on the malakoff was made, but for positive orders from st. petersburg to hold the town as long as possible. as far as we could judge, the general opinion amongst the russian officers was that the chief error russia committed was in allowing the allies to land undisturbed. probably subsequent events confirmed their views, but all seemed to think, had the french and english met with a vigorous resistance when they disembarked, sevastopol would never have been invested. unhappily for them, the higher authorities at st. petersburg were so firmly convinced that sevastopol and her forts were impregnable, that it was hoped, could the allies be led on to make an attack upon the outworks, that not only would they be repulsed, but that the annihilation of the whole invading army would be the necessary consequence. those generals who knew the place, and who had some doubts as to the "impossibility" of taking it from the land side, were not listened to. any attack from the sea must have been in vain. notwithstanding the kindness of our friends--notwithstanding the fineness of the weather (for we had but few rainy days during the many weeks we passed at sevastopol), we longed to leave the place. words cannot adequately express the profound gloom and depression that weigh down the spirits after any lengthened residence in the town of death. at first, the great interest of seeing a place become so famous in history, the excitement of visiting spot after spot renowned for deeds of chivalrous daring unequalled in modern times, support the mind; but, after a time, the one story told by every house, by every field, by every grave--of untimely death, of man's love of destruction, and of man's lust for blood--oppresses the heart with a weight of sadness that becomes almost unendurable. our favourite walk on many a bright summer's evening was to stroll up to the redan, and there we would seat ourselves on a little grassy mound, the last resting-place probably of a dead man, and gaze on the destroyed city below. the larks would be singing gaily over our heads, the crickets chirping around; but if we pushed away the grass, or disturbed the earth ever so little, how many records would meet the eye of the deadly strife that had raged on the very spot where we were now so quietly seated, while the extraordinary, almost awful silence of the great city made one indeed feel that it was now but a city of tombs. a little below us, on the right, stand the once lordly alexandra barracks--a building at one time unequalled of its kind in grandeur and extent. now the bare walls alone remain; the sky can be seen through the long lines of windows. in lieu of roof, a few blackened rafters project here and there, like monstrous gibbets, and the masses of débris around show how thoroughly the work of destruction has been carried out. it is beyond measure depressing to walk through miles of ruined streets; and, if so painful to the stranger, how heartbreaking must it be to russians, to see beautiful buildings, once the pride of the country, hopelessly defaced and destroyed. the water-gate by which we land when coming from the yacht must once have been a great ornament to the beautiful town, for it is still lovely even in its ruin. it resembles the colonnade of an ancient greek temple, and is approached by a broad flight of shallow steps. these, however, as well as the fine mosaic pavement, have been broken and defaced, the roof has been battered in by shells, the statues have been overthrown and broken, and scarcely a column remains uninjured. near this gate is the opera-house, or rather what is left of it. it was formerly a large building with a long greek façade; but the walls are now shattered, and blackened by fire, and the columns and decorations lie broken on the ground. the hospital is almost the only place that has not suffered severely from the effects of the fiery hail that was so incessantly pouring into the town. a flag showed where the unhappy wounded were lying, and as far as possible the building was spared by the besiegers; still its scorched and blackened sides and some yawning holes tell that it did not altogether escape. near it is a small chapel, now almost a ruin, a sad memento of the sufferings of some of our poor fellows. towards the latter end of the siege, space, air, attendants, and surgical aid were all lamentably inefficient to supply even the pressing needs of the masses of wounded who were brought in. during the last few days also the confusion that reigned in the town almost overcame discipline. no sooner was the evacuation decided upon than orders were given that, not only were the russian wounded to be conveyed immediately to the north side, but that all valuables that could not be removed at the same time were to be burnt during the last night, not only to prevent them from falling into the hands of the enemy, but that the smoke should conceal the movements of the russians; for this reason also many portions of the town were set on fire. it may easily be imagined, therefore, that there was but little time or attention given to the unhappy wounded of the enemy who were to be left behind; so, when the allies entered the deserted city, terrible were some of the scenes that met their eyes. in this very chapel a harrowing sight was beheld, for many of our poor countrymen were lying here unheeded and untended, yet alive, with the dead in heaps around them. the harbour of sevastopol is supposed to be unequalled for size, depth of water, and security. it very much resembles plymouth in the number of arms that branch off from the main channel. the entrance is so broad and easy of access that vessels can run in for shelter with almost any wind, and when inside the forts the various channels are so completely landlocked that ships can lie in perfect safety whatever sea may rage outside. the navigation within is, however, now somewhat difficult, as the russians sank nearly all the vessels then in port when the english fleet appeared before sevastopol, and though most of the wrecks have been raised, still enough remain to require skilful pilotage to avoid the hidden dangers. the only cheerful place in all sevastopol (out-of-door cheerfulness, that is--not the many friendly houses that were always open to us) was a small promenade, consisting of the ghost of once beautiful pleasure-gardens, where the band played on fine evenings. here the few people left in sevastopol would assemble at sunset to listen to the excellent music and enjoy the cool evening air. as night came on the scene would be very pretty. darkness hid the ruins around, so that the stars seemed only to shine on glistening white monuments; the lights from the vessels in the harbour quivered like lines of silver as they were reflected in the gently rippling water; and when at last the whole glory of heaven was unfolded, the dark-blue arch above seemed one dazzling array of brilliant stars. those who have not seen them can form no idea of the glorious beauty of the nights in these southern countries. the stars do not twinkle, they blaze with bright silver light, and the eye in vain endeavours to penetrate the glittering maze of which the heavens seem formed. we find that this summer is considered at sevastopol rather hotter than the average, but we have seldom found the heat very oppressive. the sun is powerful during the day, and often beats fiercely upon the dry, parched soil. it is well therefore, if possible, to avoid exposing oneself to the great heat of midday; but at sunset the fresh sea-breeze always sets in, and the nights are cool and invigorating. amongst the many advantages yachtsmen enjoy over travellers by land is the inestimable one of being nearly always sure of a breeze at night, and none but those who have travelled much in warm climates can tell how great that blessing is. fatigue and heat during the day can well be borne when one is sure of a quiet and refreshing sleep. another comfort also is comparative freedom from mosquitoes and flies. how often when we have been doomed to spend the night in some wretched inn or house, half-stifled by the heat and bad smells, tormented beyond endurance by swarms of mosquitoes, sand-flies, fleas, or perhaps worse, have we sighed for the little cabins with their comfortable elastic mattresses, the fresh clean sheets, and the cool night wind that would have been fanning us as we rocked in our dear claymore! having once found ourselves in malta during the hot months of july and august, and having felt great compassion for the unfortunate english soldiers as they marched up and down, under a blazing sun, in all the misery and magnificence of the tight regulation scarlet coat, with their throats braced up by a stiff collar, we much admired the simple and comfortable uniform worn during summer by the russian troops. the men have a complete suit of grey cotton, with peaked caps of the same material. the officers wear white jean, with a band of scarlet round their caps, and sometimes a sash of the same colour. chapter xi. a russian interior. leaving sevastopol one afternoon, a favourable breeze carried us rapidly back to the alma, and being now provided with the necessary permit, we could land without danger of being impaled by our enemy, the cossack. we had also brought a letter of introduction to count b----, a neighbouring proprietor, and, having sent it to the village, we landed, and strolled along the beach, looking at the heights the zouaves had climbed. count b---speedily arrived, kindly answering the letter in person, and bringing his carriage with him; so in a few minutes we found ourselves seated behind two spirited little tartar horses, and away we went across the plain, perfectly regardless of the absence of road. we passed several large stack-yards, full of substantial ricks of hay and corn, where wild-looking tartars were thrashing out the grain--a simple process, accomplished by fastening heavy blocks of wood to tartar ponies, who were driven at full gallop round and round the enclosure. the women wore their long hair in innumerable plaits, hanging below their fez caps, and showed their mohammedan tendencies by partly veiling their faces as we passed. feminine curiosity made them peep at us from sheltered corners, though they seldom ventured to show themselves completely. we turned into one of these farmyards, and found ourselves in front of a little one-storied house, standing near a mass of blackened ruins. here we were most kindly received by madame b---and a large family party, consisting of an aunt, mademoiselle m----, a sister-in-law, two young ladies, several children, and three gentlemen. most of the party talked french, and we were welcomed with charming kindness. soon after our arrival tea was proposed, which, thanks to the universal samovar, is almost always good in russia. this time the pleasant meal seemed doubly excellent, for, besides grapes and water melons, there was a great bowl of cream, a luxury we had not seen for a long time. milk, as well as butter, is almost unattainable in sevastopol. the evening, though pleasant, was very warm, so we were delighted to see that, instead of being prepared in the little house, the hospitable tea-table was spread in the farmyard, and there we sat, surrounded by cows, chickens, turkeys, and dogs, in quite a patriarchal fashion, and enjoying ourselves greatly, for the charming family with whom we were had the rare art of viewing everything en rose, and while bearing their reverses with dignified simplicity, yet took whatever little pleasure came in their way with hearty and unaffected delight. milking was going on, and noticing the beauty of the cows, of which there were about twenty, we asked our hostess how much milk they gave a day. she did not know, nor did any one, she said, keep an account, for there is a superstition in the crimea that should the milk be measured the cows immediately become dry. we were kindly pressed to remain the night, but we wished to return to the children, who had been left on board the yacht. besides, the house seemed so very small, compared with the party already assembled, that we could scarcely believe in the "possibility" of our being taken in, whatever good-will there might be. we looked around, thinking there must be some other house besides the very little one before us, but no, nothing was to be seen but some tartar huts, a few cow-hovels, and the blackened ruins. so, with many thanks, we adhered to our original intention, and then the greater part of the party proposed to accompany us to the sea-shore. a large, powerful horse--a fine creature, but of a fiery and impetuous nature--was with some difficulty harnessed to a lofty gig, or "heavenly chariot," into which i was invited to mount. i did so, though, it must be confessed, with some inward trepidation. in another moment our hostess was by my side, and the fiery steed stood on his hind legs, as if he meant to "pose" for ever as a statue for a "horse rampant." the young ladies, without any preparation, jumped on two tartar ponies; the rest of the party got into the other carriage. our energetic animal condescended to come down on his forelegs, and, with a bound that almost took away my breath, off we set--"over brook, over byre"--going across country in the dark in the most astonishing fashion. to the very last moment that fiery steed acted well up to his character; snorting, plunging, and exerting himself most unnecessarily when any obstruction came in his way. however, the fair charioteer, twisting the reins twice round her hands, seemed fully equal to her task, and so away we went, with glorious indifference to holes, mounds, or other little impediments. the young ladies rode admirably. it could have been no easy matter, and needed no little courage, to sit so steadily, galloping at such a headlong pace, on a dark night, over rough ground full of holes. however, we all arrived quite safely at the sea-shore, and found our kind friends had brought us a supply of vegetables, fruit, butter, and cream that made us rich for many days. when we rejoined our hospitable entertainers the following morning the mystery of the sleeping accommodation was explained. the little house only possessed two rooms divided by a passage. all the men slept in one room, the ladies had the other; the governess being the best off, as she had a shelf to herself in the passage. these kind people had really intended to share their house with us, and proposed to give us one room and the passage, taking the little governess into their already crowded room, and sending the luckless men to find shelter where they could. the "heavenly chariot" was again made ready, the mighty steed being more frisky than ever, as he felt the cheerful influence of the fresh morning air, and after breakfast we all, some in carriages, some on horseback, went to visit the field of the battle of the alma. standing immediately beneath the heights they appear exceedingly steep, and difficult to climb, especially one would think when exposed to a galling fire, but this very steepness proved the salvation of the zouaves. once arrived at the foot of the cliffs, they were within the range of the russian guns, and these active fellows, who climb like cats, were speedily at the top, and engaged in a hand-to-hand combat with their foe. our host, who had been on prince menschikoff's staff, said that the russians committed two fatal mistakes early in the day. in his opinion the russian guns should have opened fire when the allies were crossing the river, and when their line consequently was somewhat broken and disorganised. unhappily, there was difference of opinion and dissension amongst the russian generals, and therefore, marvellous to relate, no very precise orders were issued on the important morning, so the favourable moment was lost. deeming, also, their position impregnable, the russians were probably paralysed by the suddenness and vigour of the attack. another almost equally fatal error was committed later in the day. several russian regiments, instead of waiting to receive the enemy on the commanding position they occupied on the heights, rashly descended to a sort of second terrace, a few feet below the summit of the cliff; a most disastrous move on their part, for when the zouaves and light infantry swarmed up the rocks the miserable russians were bayoneted and cut down without a chance of retreat. in fact most accounts tend to show that want of organization, and the want of supreme military power on the spot, contributed quite as much as the vigour of the attack to the loss of the battle of the alma, and the subsequent fall of sevastopol. the russians do full justice to the dauntless courage and brilliant military talents of their foes, but the destruction of sevastopol lies heavy on their hearts, for the higher classes think her fall was as much brought about by faults at home as by the intrepid valour of the besiegers. in the early part of the war, intrigues, it is said, were rife at the russian court, and the plans of the crimean generals were constantly interfered with and made of no effect by contradictory orders from st. petersburg. it was believed by the emperor that the garrison in sevastopol was so immense that in itself it formed a large and efficient army. it was believed that stores and all other requisites were there in such abundance that the town was capable of sustaining unassisted a protracted siege of even years, whereas so great had been the venality practised that many regiments, supposed to be fully manned, barely existed but in name. so far from being able to support a long siege, the vast store-houses were more than half empty, and with respect even to ammunition and arms the supply was lamentably inadequate. it is said also that some of the cannon and shells were made of wood. when all the present generation has passed away, and when the history of the crimean war will only be classed among the histories of the past, many who read the story will feel a deep compassion for the mighty emperor whose heart broke when he at length knew the fatal truth. his cherished town--his impregnable fortress--the pride of russia--the key-stone, as it were, to all his ambitious projects, must fall into the hands of the enemy for want of troops, food, ammunition--for want of the very things with which he supposed it had been so well supplied. supplies were sent, troops were sent, but in what condition could they arrive after having traversed a country the width of europe, in the depth of winter, without railways, and nearly without towns? the russians are essentially a brave and noble people; it is impossible to live amongst them and not admire and like them. they love their sovereign with a personal devotion almost beyond bounds, and they can and have fought for their country to the death, but they know their system of government is very faulty. late events especially have led them to see how the present system tends to much oppression and venality, and that though the emperor really labours earnestly and unweariedly for the welfare of his subjects, yet it is impossible any one man can sufficiently superintend and legislate for so vast an empire. on the gentle slope of a pretty grass hill, where a flock of sheep were peacefully grazing, is the simple stone erected to the memory of the noble 23rd welsh fusileers, and a few feet from it are a number of long, narrow trenches, the edges roughly marked by stones, the graves of their gallant enemies. many hundred russians lie here, but neither cross nor monument records their names. in a few more years the stones will be all dispersed, and nothing will then mark the spot where so frightful an amount of human life was sacrificed. we again descended the valley to visit the tomb of captain horace cust. it is owing to the kind care of our hostess that it is still in existence. when the family returned to burlinck after the war, madame b---found the stone thrown down, defaced, and half buried in the earth, but she had it repaired and by a curious accident captain cust's brother arrived in sevastopol and came to see the little monument only the day after it had been replaced. but for madame b----'s kindness few of the graves would have been respected, for the tartars are very destructive, and carry off everything that they think has any value. count b---has been a great sufferer from the war. his property near the alma was worth about twenty thousand roubles a year. now it barely yields enough to supply the family with more than simple necessaries. formerly they spent the winter in the old russian capital, moscow, now they go for a few months to simpheropol, and live here as simple farmers during the rest of the year, and a farm-life in the crimea does not imply the comforts that are to be found on most english homesteads. though our host has lost so much--for besides his house several farms were burnt, the cattle seized, and the vineyards and woods destroyed--there are very many others who have been still more unfortunate. for instance, his aunt, mlle. m----, before the war began was the owner of a fine property with a large house in the valley of tchernaia, but long ere the siege was over she found herself absolutely ruined. it seems wonderful that the landing of large bodies of foreign troops should have caused so little alarm amongst the inhabitants of the crimea, but far from fearing danger for themselves, the prevailing feeling was apparently astonishment that any army should be so rash as thus to court its own destruction. sevastopol was believed to be so safe that it is said some adventurous female spirits wished to proceed there, to witness in person the discomfiture and defeat of the allied forces. when the allies landed, mlle. m----, being in bad health, was unwilling to leave home. sevastopol was so near that there seemed but little or no danger that a retreat into the town could be cut off. the heights of the alma also were supposed to present a formidable if not an insurmountable obstacle to the advance of the enemy, so mlle. m---and her household remained at tchernaia. "one evening," said mlle. m----, "we were sitting round the card-table playing loto, but i was a little uneasy that a messenger i had sent to one of my nephews in sevastopol had not yet returned. a sudden noise was heard in the hall; and my niece was hurrying to the door of the saloon, when it was hastily thrown open by the messenger, accompanied by several of the servants, who with scared faces and in breathless accents announced that a party of foreign cavalry had been seen to enter a wood only a few versts from the house, and that if we meant to escape there was not a moment to lose. "in the hurry and alarm of such a departure it was not possible to take away with us more than mere necessaries, and though most of the valuables, such as silver and pictures, had happily been sent to simpheropol many weeks previously, still," said poor mlle. m----, with a deep sigh, "i left my dear home full of every comfort and luxury. i dare not lament," said the kind old lady, as a few tears ran slowly down her cheeks, "over my poor furniture and little treasures when i remember the dreadful sorrows that came to us afterwards, but it gives a bitter pang to an old woman like myself, on returning to a once dear and happy home, to find only a heap of blackened ruins," she did not mention what we knew, namely, that all the remains of her little fortune had gone to help the sick and wounded, for when she retreated into sevastopol she joined the devoted band of the sisters of mercy, and eventually became one of the lady-superintendents of hospitals. in spite of feeble health, in spite of the constant danger to which she was exposed, this good woman remained steadily at her post until the troops withdrew to the north side. we did not like to ask many questions, for, like all who shared in those terrible duties, the scenes they then saw seem to have been too dreadful to bear being dwelt on, and the kind creature could not relate without tears some of the sad incidents that had come under her notice. some of her patients were poor little fellows, whose manhood all deserted them under the pain of their wounds, and these she held in her motherly arms till their cries ceased, and death mercifully took them from their sufferings. like androvna r----, mlle. m---said that all sense of personal danger became so soon merged in higher anxieties, that even the narrow escapes of many of the nurses ceased to excite much interest. the trial was to hear cries for the help that could not be given--to see terrible sufferings without the possibility of affording relief. in spite of heroic courage, nature would occasionally give way at the sight of wounds and mutilations of unusual horror, but still the devoted band of women never slackened their efforts, and laboured unweariedly at their divine and holy task. the russian soldier seems to be as patient in the hospital as he is obedient and brave on the battle-field. the poor fellows, unless very young, bore their sufferings with great fortitude, and mlle. m---said it was most touching to see their unselfishness and consideration for others. from her account there was an excellent staff of surgeons, though scarcely numerous enough for the requirements of such vast numbers of wounded. there appears also to have been a good supply of medicine, but there was a considerable deficiency of linen and bandages. the main cause of the great suffering arose from the very limited amount of accommodation. the hospitals were frightfully crowded, and consequently the air became so impure that the wounds could not heal, and gangrene and disease carried off as many russians as the guns of the enemy. mlle. m---was the unconscious heroine of a little story that went the round of most english and french journals. it was reported that prince menschikoff's carriage had fallen into the hands of the allies, and many were the jokes that were made respecting a certain pretty pink satin bonnet, and other articles appertaining to a lady's toilet, that had been found packed therein. unfortunately for the lovers of romance, both carriage and bonnet belonged to our friend mlle. m----, who, though both charming and good-looking for her age, is no longer a young woman, being between sixty and seventy. the carriage in question had been packed to go to simpheropol, but when the hurried flight became necessary it was found too heavy for such a rapid journey, and it had to be abandoned to its fate. mlle. m---wishes to sell her estate at tchernaia, but landed property in the neighbourhood of sevastopol has so deteriorated in value that she has not yet succeeded in finding a purchaser, and it may be some years before she will be able to do so. it is almost equally impossible to let it. one farm is now in cultivation, and a few grass fields are let for grazing sheep, but the greater portion of the land has been left untilled and useless. it was at first expected that the government would have paid five per cent. on all property destroyed, but the expenses of the war have been so infinitely greater than was originally supposed, that the unfortunate proprietors say now they shall think themselves well off if they succeed in obtaining one per cent. of indemnification. it will be many years before the country will be able to recover the effects of so violent a blow. we left the alma, with a storm muttering in the distance, and every probability of wind, but soon after passing sevastopol the breeze dropped and it fell dead calm. not a puff filled the sails, which flapped idly against the masts; but somehow or other we drifted on, and the coast scenery was so fine that we did not regret the slow progress. magnificent cliffs, valleys wooded nearly to the water's edge, and pretty villages made quite a panorama of beautiful views, whose general aspect reminded us much of the undercliff of the isle of wight, only on a far grander scale. aloupka, prince woronzoff's place, is most lovely. the house is built of grey granite, and seemed to us exceedingly picturesque, though architects and connoisseurs would probably shake their heads dismally over it, as a specimen of bad taste. the architecture, it must be admitted, is certainly "very mixed," being partly gothic, partly moorish, and altogether modern; but the numerous pinnacles and towers, and the long façade of buildings rising above the magnificent woods, have a remarkably good effect. a series of broad terraces descend from the house half way down to the sea; beautiful gardens, full of rare shrubs and flowers, lie on each side of the house, and the woods and park stretch away for miles along the cliffs. general malthoff has a very fine place, more in-land; and a few miles beyond yalta is orianda, the empress's villa. yalta itself is a tiny village, lying close to the sea, and surrounded by, almost buried in, a magnificent amphitheatre of mountains. the village contains about fifty houses, all nestling round a little wooded hill, on the top of which stands the church, its bright green cupolas and gilded pinnacles looking resplendent in the brilliant sunshine. the villas, however, are the glory of yalta. on every slope, peeping through openings in the dark green woods, are the pretty white houses. almost all are half covered with creepers, and standing in gardens now gay with flowers, have an air of comfort and heimlichkeit, or homeishness (if such a word can be permitted), to which we have long been strangers. the lovely woods--the green grass--the fresh mountain air make yalta quite a little paradise. we had the additional pleasure, also, of finding friends here--prince and princess b----, who came on board immediately, and whose affectionate welcome, and cheery talk of old times and old friends, made this distant place feel quite like home. we had also another visitor, an american, who, seeing the english flag, came on board to borrow some money. he was one of the unfavourable specimens of yankeyism who do so much discredit to their country, and whose principle is to ask for a gate when they want a bit of wood. the modest request was for £25, which mr. harvey declined to lend, but i suppose his heart being touched by seeing a foreigner so far from home, and in distress, he gave him enough to take him to sevastopol, with a note to an american there, who would help him if necessary. our friend then said, however, that he heard we were going on to circassia, and as it was very difficult to get there, he thought he might as well take "a spell" with us, as he could fix himself down in the yacht very well. as he spoke, the sensible little craft made a sudden roll and a lurch, that caused such an internal convulsion in our would-be companion that he threw himself into the boat and departed, happily for us to return no more. the next day we went with the b----s and a large party to orianda. our conveyance was an immense char-à-banc, that could hold quite a dozen people. there were scarcely any springs to speak of, but luckily the roads were excellent. the drive from yalta to orianda is one of the most beautiful i have ever seen. sometimes the road wound up and down hills, and then we could look over the steep banks of woods or vines upon the intensely blue sea below. sometimes it passed between great overhanging rocks that almost met overhead; then, again, it would cross sunny bits of rough common, or wind down narrow deep lanes where the damp coolness was delicious, and where the high banks seemed hung with ferns, and woodbines, and other plants that love the warm moist shade. we passed a charming house of count potocki's. the broad verandah was quite festooned with passion flowers, roses, and the bright lilac blossom of the clematis jackmanni. the gardens and grounds were as well kept as any english home could be. the neat hedges, gravel walks, and smooth lawns made us think we must be in england again. we left the carriage at the lodge gates and walked down the beautiful road to orianda, sometimes passing under trellises of vines, where the purple grapes were hanging in delicious profusion, then going through woods and avenues of fine trees. the rays of the setting sun were now streaming through every opening, making the old scotch firs look all aflame in the glorious light. the villa is a large, white grecian building, not handsome enough for a palace nor pretty enough for a country house. there are some fine rooms, rather grand and very gloomy. the pleasantest sitting-room was a hall, painted and decorated like a pompeian court, with a fountain in the centre, surrounded by flowers and ferns. the gardens and terraces make the delight of the place. vines, myrtles, and magnolia-trees are trained over arches, and under their fragrant shade, the air cooled by innumerable fountains, how pleasantly must the summer days pass! what an enchanting change from hot, dusty st. petersburg! the present empress has not yet paid this pretty place a visit, but the grand-duchess constantine came for several months one summer. her imperial highness seems to have made herself universally popular; her parties enlivened the whole neighbourhood, and she is spoken of by all classes with the heartiest affection. within an hour after sunset the wind became bitterly cold, and every cloak and shawl was called into requisition during the drive home. this sudden change of temperature is the only drawback to yalta, and invalids who come here for health must carefully avoid exposing themselves to the night-air. the dew also falls very heavily; therefore here, as in italy, the hour after sunset is a dangerous period. later in the night, for those who are strong, the fresh wind is very invigorating. yalta is so favourite a spot that people come even from petersburg to spend the summer here. it gives one some idea of the enormous extent of russia to know that it is a fortnight's journey, travelling night and day, to get from yalta to st. petersburg. thanks to our kind friends, the b----s, we have seen all the prettiest villas in the neighbourhood. count narisckine has a very lovely estate. there are also some beautiful places now unhappily shut up and uninhabited, the owners having been ruined by the war. land and houses can now be bought very cheap, but unfortunately yalta is too far from england to make it available as a summer residence. prince woronzoff has a very fine property at aloupka, and a nearer approach made it even more beautiful than we had thought it from the yacht. the house stands in a magnificent position on a narrow ridge of table-land between the cliffs and the sea. great dark woods stretch around it for miles, and the rock scenery is quite superb. our russian friends did not, however, share our enthusiasm, and thought the more cultivated, smiling scenery round yalta infinitely more beautiful. on arriving at aloupka we drove through a fine gateway into a courtyard, on one side of which was the house, on the other were the offices and stables. immediately within the portico was seen the hospitable "salve," set in large letters in the mosaic pavement. a glass door opened into the hall, a moderate-sized room, panelled with oak and hung round with family portraits. amongst them was a picture of the late lady pembroke. princess woronzoff's boudoir and a few other small rooms were on one side of the entrance; on the other was the great dining-hall, a large and lofty room with three recesses: two of these were occupied by fireplaces, the other had a small fountain, an agreeable addition to a dining-room on a hot day. another glass door led to a very pretty room--half saloon, half conservatory. climbing plants were trained up the columns and over the frames of the looking-glasses. masses of flowers were arranged in groups upon the marble floor, while thick persian carpets and every sort of comfortable lounge and easy chair made the apartment the very perfection of a summer sitting-room. russians have quite a talent for decorating their rooms with flowers and shrubs, and should nothing better be forthcoming, branches of trees make a background for the little cluster of plants that are placed in every corner. dwarf palms or tree-ferns have a charming effect when crowning a group of flowering shrubs. on the storey below were the salons and library. the latter was a large and comfortable room, well filled with books, the tables being covered with the newest french and english publications. prince and princess woronzoff were away, so we soon finished our inspection of the house. though thoroughly comfortable, it is much smaller in reality than its appearance from the sea would lead one to expect. seen from a distance the long, imposing façade makes it look quite like a palace. the grounds, however, gained in beauty from a nearer view. great flights of steps lead to broad terraces, on which are the most delicious gardens and lawns that imagination can picture. every flower to be found in england and italy grows here in perfection, revelling in an admirable climate and in an admirable soil. in front of the house was a stone colonnade, up every pillar of which were trained climbing plants of unusual beauty. one in particular was especially lovely, a species of mandevillia superba. there must have been many hundreds of the snowy white fragrant flowers, shining like stars from the mass of glossy dark foliage. in the centre of the colonnade was a portico as high as the house itself, having a roof fretted and gilt after the fashion of the moorish courts in the alhambra. light balconies, supported by clusters of columns, projected on either side, and comfortable sofas were arranged amongst the little wood of orange and citron trees below. it was a day and a scene when life alone seemed a delicious blessing. the soft breeze barely whispered amongst the leaves, a few doves were tenderly cooing in the garden below, the very fountains seemed unwilling to disturb the magic quiet, and their waters fell soothingly into the marble basins, as if they were also hushing nature to rest. every now and then the sweet south wind sighed gently over the wide expanse of sea, and then came upon the ear the trickle, trickle of the little waves, as they rippled back amongst the pebbles of the beach, and as the wind softly touched the trees overhead, down came a fragrant rain of the snowy leaves of the orange-flowers, making the ground white with the lovely blossoms. talking of old times and old scenes, hours passed like minutes in this enchanting and enchanted spot, and we had forgotten how long we had been enjoying a feeling of divine repose that one longed might last for ever, when the sun sank below the horizon. for a few minutes there was a great blaze and glory of light, and then a grey damp gloom stole over the landscape that warned us to be gone. perhaps, even then, we should have lingered longer than was warranted by strict prudence, but we were all engaged to have supper with the t----s, and knew the sportsmen, who had gone out quail shooting, would have returned with clamorous appetites. the rattling wheels of our char-à-banc were no sooner heard in the village than out flew all the hungry party to know what had detained us; but the roasted quails were so good, and so were the little newly-baked sponge-cakes, that every one rejoiced in being hungry, and a merry evening finished our pleasant day. chapter xii. circassia. having seen all that was to be seen in the immediate neighbourhood of yalta, it was unanimously agreed that the yacht should be put in requisition, and that an expedition should be made to oursouf, a place on the coast, lately bought by prince b----. the day was fine, and the sea apparently smooth, but there was a little ground-swell that made us somewhat anxious about the happiness of our non-seafaring friends. prince b---was an old sailor, but his wife such a bad one that she never ventured on board a vessel under way. we were also very doubtful as to the sailing powers of prince t---and his sister. count and countess n---had sailed with us before, and we knew they were proof, but we much feared the s----s and g----s were doomed to suffer. however, with admirable courage, all came on board at the time appointed, and we set sail. while the wind lasted all went well, but unhappily about mid-day the breeze dropped, and then, one after another, the poor ladies fell victims to the levelling malady of sea-sickness, and the cabins presented sad spectacles of suffering pleasure-seekers. most fortunately prince t---was not ill. had he been so, we dared not picture to ourselves what would have been his mental as well as his physical sufferings, for he had come on board in a new and superb tartar costume! we were speechless with amazement as the resplendent vision appeared on deck. even our captain and charlie could scarcely maintain a dignified silence, but prince b---could not contain his feelings. "pourquoi le diable, t----, êtes-vous venu en costume de bal?" burst involuntarily from his lips. happily our guest was ridicule-proof, for his toilette was the pride and happiness of his life, and he frequently astonished the quiet inhabitants of yalta by appearing in four fresh suits a day. only yesterday he had paid us a visit in a complete costume of plaid. coat, waistcoat, trousers, linen, cap, even the pocket handkerchief, displayed the same somewhat remarkable checked pattern. the unwonted and gorgeous toilette that appeared to-day was, however, very little adapted for a nautical expedition. crimson satin trousers, a similar jacket, magnificently embroidered in gold, and large loose sleeves made of fine cambric, however beautiful in themselves, certainly seemed out of place on the black sea, especially as the day was neither hot nor sunny. our poor friend's bare arms soon looked pinched and blue with cold, but we dared not suggest either cloak or shawl for fear of injuring the well-starched beauty of the transparent sleeves. however, at last the sun came out from behind the clouds, the air became warm, so did the poor arms, the breeze revived, the suffering ladies got better and appeared on deck, and in due time we arrived at oursouf. it was a beautiful spot, quite close to the sea, and as wild as it was beautiful. on the slope of a neighbouring hill is massandra, another property belonging to the woronzoff family. on another hill, called anaka, is a model nursery-garden, established by count woronzoff when he was governor of south russia, and still kept up by government. every description of tree, shrub, and flower that can be grown in the climate is to be found in this nursery. any one wishing to make vineyards, plantations, or gardens can buy the plants, with the advantage of learning the sort of tree, shrub, &c., which may be best adapted to the soil for which they are required. all this part of what may be called the undercliff of the crimea seems peculiarly adapted for the culture of the vine. sheltered by a range of mountains, as well as by almost perpendicular cliffs, from the keen north wind, the long slopes of rich soil seem to invite the formation of vineyards. the grapes that are now produced are excellent, and many sorts of wine have already been made. several of the rhine wines have been so closely imitated--some even say excelled--that sanguine persons predict that in time the crimean wines will rank higher than the rhenish. be that as it may, it seems a pity that the russian growers should be content in many instances to give german names to their produce, instead of creating their own class of wines. a sort of liqueur, something like constantia, is highly prized by connoisseurs, but at present this is only produced in the private vineyards of the bariatinsky and woronzoff families, and at orianda, and cannot be purchased. prince woronzoff, who appears to have been a wise and enlightened governor, had a favourite scheme for bringing large districts into cultivation as vineyards. unhappily, the war took place ere he could put his project in execution, and the country is now so impoverished and thrown back that it will be years before it can recover from the shock. oursouf is a little tartar town, built on the slope of a steep hill, and close to an enormous rock, on the top of which are some ruins, said to have been once a castle. a few miles inland rises the grand mountain of the acondagh, so called from its outline being supposed to resemble a crouching bear. "acon" means bear; "dagh" signifies mountain. clouds were flitting over the summits of the range, so the likeness, if it existed, was invisible to our eyes. prince b---has bought a small property a few versts from the village, and having lived much abroad, he intends building a perfect italian villa, so as to introduce a mode of architecture which he believes will be remarkably well adapted both to the country and climate. at present the foundations only have been dug, but should our good fortune bring us here again in a few years, we hope to find our kind friend established in his retired home. to those who do not object to pitch their tents away from the haunts of companionable man, this little estate offers every charm that can well be desired. the scenery is as beautiful as it is magnificent. a lovely little wooded glen runs up from the sea, far away into the mountains, that gradually become steeper and steeper, until the stately tchatar-dagh appears in the distance, its rugged sides partly covered with forest, and its lofty peaks crowned with eternal snow. a rapid stream winds its way through the valley, sometimes dashing down in rapid cascades, then lingering in dark and shady pools, whose banks seem the chosen home of every sort of beautiful fern. the osmunda regalis grows to a size almost unknown in england, and tufts of many kinds of the delicate maiden-hair nestle between the stones wherever the spray of the waterfalls can reach their feathery branches. in the spring the lilies of the valley must carpet the ground. in some sheltered spots we found several varieties of large white lilies, and the autumnal cyclamen revels in the rich sandy soil. wild vines had climbed up many of the trees. the purple bunches looked very beautiful amongst the foliage, but the wild vine is dangerous in its close affection, and almost always destroys the poor tree that it honours with its notice. on returning to the beach, we found the boat surrounded by a crowd of tartars, who were looking at the sailors with mingled admiration and awe. the wind was fair for the little home-voyage, but though the sea was not really rough, still there was sufficient movement to make some of our poor friends very miserable, and it was a relief to all parties when they were once more safely landed at yalta. those who were not ill remained on board for supper, whist, and music; and to our surprise, amongst these good sailors was the wearer of the tartar costume. it blew fresh all night, and a bank of heavy, dark clouds to windward warned us that better shelter must be sought than can be found at yalta. unfortunately there is no roadstead here, and the anchorage is by no means secure. our captain has been very restless and uneasy for the last two days, and can find no charms in a place where half-a-dozen anchors, as he says, would not hold the yacht should it come on to blow. so to-night we are to say good-bye to all our kind friends, to the green fields and to the pretty villas at yalta. pleasant, cheerful little place, in all probability we shall never see you again, but amongst all the sunny memories our rovings have given us, few will be more sunny, more smiling than the remembrance of our days with you. we spent the last day on shore with our friends happily, though somewhat sadly, and when we parted in the evening bore away with us not only the remembrance of many affectionate words, but a little souvenir from each of the kind hearts who had given such a sincere welcome to their english friends. we left yalta on the night of the 13th of september, with a fresh, favourable breeze. about seven o'clock on the morning of the 16th, the worthy domenico came knocking at all the cabin doors. "la terra, eccellenza; si vede alfine la terra." the good news brought us speedily on deck. a lovely day and a smooth sea welcomed us to circassia. how often we had talked about this enchanting, but far distant country--how often we had longed to see it, never imagining that such a wild dream could ever be realised; and now, before us, bright in the light of a fresh, dewy morning, lay our land of promise--the true "land of the citron and myrtle." there are some things so beautiful that one shrinks from describing them. words cannot paint the loveliness that is seen by the eye. to say that we saw before us a country that possessed, with the tender charm of english woodland scenery, the rich glow of the italian landscape, and the grand majesty of alpine ranges, gives but a feeble idea of the delicious beauty of the land we were gazing on. the light, the colouring, the exquisite effect of the soft mists as they slowly arose from the valleys, can be better imagined than described, but as we looked, we thought, here is a land where nature has in truth perfected her handiwork! the yacht was moving gently on, there was barely a ripple on the water, and, seemingly, we were within a stone's throw of the shore. a little sandy beach ran along the edge of the sea, then rose banks all mossy and ferny, with undulating grass-fields and conical hills, with great clumps of oak and beech trees scattered about. then came a region of dark fir-woods, mingled with the tender green of the weeping birches. farther away still were steep hills and rugged mountains, their sides all covered with vast forests, stretching away far as the eye could reach, whilst above their dark shaggy masses rose the majestic peaks of a distant range, glistening white in their dazzling covering of eternal snow. cattle and sheep were wandering over the rich pastures, but peaceful as the country appeared, peace is, in reality, the blessing most unknown to it. war is constantly raging, and the smiling plain and pretty thickets before us have been the scene of many a fierce struggle. we longed to land. the boat was being lowered for the purpose, when luckily for us, as we afterwards discovered, a breeze sprang up, and we continued our course towards soukoum-kalé. had we gone on shore, in all probability we should have been taken prisoners by the hostile circassians (who hold this part of the country), carried up into the mountains, and compelled to pay a considerable sum before our involuntary sojourn amongst them had ended. a species of guerilla warfare is incessantly going on between the inhabitants in these remote parts and the russians. the former consider all europeans as enemies, and though the russians are nominally masters of the country, the circassians still possess amongst the mountains some strongholds that are almost impregnable. whenever they have a chance, they make captures, on account of the ransoms they usually obtain. should the prisoner be of any importance, he generally prefers paying a moderate sum, rather than endure months of miserable imprisonment. as to the common soldiers, they are usually shot, their value being but small. had we been made prisoners, it would, of course, have been possible to appeal both to the english and russian governments; but the journeys to and from constantinople and st. petersburg are very long, and as it would require some weeks to procure the necessary money, we should have had to lead a wretched existence amongst the mountains, making more experiences about wild circassian life than would probably have pleased us. there is an english consul at soukoum, established since the crimean war, but it is almost an honorary appointment, as soukoum has no trade; and though mr. d---has deservedly the greatest influence amongst the russians, he is powerless as regards the insurgent circassians, and even had the russian general sent troops to our assistance, what can soldiers do against wandering bands, who have no homes, nothing to lose, and whose simple wants are supplied by the natural products of the country? near the sea-shore is a very curious old church, called pitsunda, standing quite alone miles away from any fort, or even traces of village. tradition says it was built during the reign of constantine, but nothing certain is known as to its origin. it was, however, repaired towards the latter end of the thirteenth century, and just before the last war with turkey commenced, the russians had made preparations for restoring it completely. fine stone and marble had been brought from a considerable distance for the purpose, and we could see some partially-worked blocks still lying around. a magnificent cross in white marble, that had retained many traces of the rich sculpture of the fifteenth century, fell a victim to the fanaticism of the turks. they shattered it into a thousand pieces, besides defacing the interior of the building as much as possible. even the circassians (who are supposed to have no religion) had always respected this church, and it is really grievous that so fine a relic of antiquity should be falling into ruins. as the day drew to its close the little breeze dropped, and the sea rested so calmly in its deep tranquillity, that not a ripple disturbed its mirror-like surface. the very forests appeared to be slumbering in the sun. a pile of light fleecy clouds that had been slowly flitting about all day changed to a soft crimson, and floated on a sky that shaded from intense blue to the most brilliant rose-colour. then a shower of gold seemed to fall, and the clouds changed into a long veil of pink vapour, that hung lightly, like a scarf, over the snowy peaks of the distant mountains. as we watched this lovely shade, the sun sank below the horizon, a blaze of golden light shot up, the sea became deep purple, the snow-mountains gradually lost their rosy glow, and an unearthly pallor--beautiful, yet awfully like death--stole gently over the long line of peaks, growing paler and paler, until at length darkness hid the shore from our sight. chapter xiii. soukoum. the next morning it was discovered, to the vexation of all on board, that we had overshot our mark. a headland had been mistaken, and the yacht was some miles beyond soukoum-kalé. we had to work our way back again therefore, and it was mid-day before the anchor was dropped in the roadstead opposite the little town. navigation off this coast is very difficult. there are but few charts, and even these few are not correct. indeed it is hinted that there is no desire that the difficulties should be diminished. the country around soukoum is quite as beautiful as any we have yet seen; but the town itself, though its low, white houses scattered along the shore and up the sides of the wooded hills are picturesque enough, seems a small, insignificant place, little more than a russian fort. a russian transport and three small ships of war were anchored near us, the decks and yards thronged with people anxious to see such an unusual, such a wonderful sight as an english yacht. the claymore has the honour of being the first vessel to fly the royal yacht squadron flag at soukoum-kalé. on shore the same excitement prevailed. the beach was crowded with people, who watched our movements with the greatest interest and curiosity, evidently brought to a culminating point when they saw ladies and children on board. the english consul, mr. d----, soon arrived, kindly anxious to give every assistance. by-and-by the governor and admiral, attended by their aides-de-camp, also came on board; and after a time we went on shore with them. the beach where we landed was crowded with russians and circassians, many of the latter the wildest-looking creatures imaginable. they were mostly however fine, tall men, with remarkably erect and graceful figures, intelligent faces, and large, dark, fiery eyes. their dignified bearing was in marked contrast to the depressed appearance and careworn countenances of the majority of the russians. in poverty and in rags a circassian retains his independent, self-relying manner, and looks (what he generally is) a bold mountaineer, who, notwithstanding his nominal submission to a foreign power, preserves his liberty, and, with gun and sword, can defend his own against the world. this same gun and sword, it is asserted, are not unfrequently turned to other and less legitimate uses, for their owner does not scruple to avail himself of any favourable opportunity of enriching his purse by their aid. the circassian dress is very picturesque. large, loose trousers are tucked into high boots, with a dark coat made full in the skirts, whilst across the chest is a row of long, narrow pouches, in which the ammunition is carried. the high cap is made of coarse cloth, the lower part covered with sheepskin. the horsemen from the mountains wear, instead of this cap, a long pointed hood, called a "papack," made of canvas and shaped like a monk's cowl, with two long ends that hang over the shoulders. each man carries a carbine, rolled in sheepskin, slung at his back, and has pistols (often handsomely mounted in silver) stuck into his girdle. circassians, as a rule, have singularly small hands and feet, and the beauty of the latter is much enhanced by the boots they wear. these boots are made without soles, and are of scarlet or crimson leather so well prepared, and so fine in texture, that they at once take the shape of the foot, and fit like gloves. the houses in soukoum are low, being seldom more than one storey high; but they are very pretty, being generally surrounded by broad verandahs that are covered with creepers, and having gardens full of flowering trees and shrubs. about the middle of the town, or village, is a large rough square, the exercising-ground of the troops; and beyond this again, bordered by a double row of trees, is a sort of road called by the dignified name of the boulevard. all the best houses are here, including those of the governor and admiral. there may have been eight or ten more of nearly equal size. the others were very small, containing but two, or perhaps three rooms. the road was exceedingly pretty, with its fine trees; and a raised pathway under their shade made a very pleasant walk. it led to a rough common, where several large flocks of geese were disporting themselves in the little clear pools of water. for some reason or other,--why we never clearly understood,--russians have an idea that the goose is the pet bird of all english homesteads, and that a flock of geese has a romantic charm to the english eye far beyond that which any other bird can possess. these geese were, therefore, pointed out to us by our companions as likely to awake many tender reminiscences of home. but it is a sad and, perhaps also, a humiliating confession to make, that instead of contemplating these excellent birds with feelings of tenderness, as suggestive of home nooks and corners in dear old england, we gazed upon them with sentiments of the lowest and most earthly domestic interest. a tolerably long course of skinny chickens and preserved meats had so deteriorated our higher tastes and sensibilities, and had so sharpened our appetites, that the first thought was that now we would have roast goose for dinner, and that the excellent domenico could replenish the empty poultry-coops. but in truth the scene was very pretty, and wonderfully like england. the heathy common, with its patches of gorse and tufts of "bracken," the white cottages peeping out amidst the trees, the groups of birch and alder bushes that skirted the little pools, the clumps of rugged old scotch firs, made us feel for a moment that we must have been seated on prince hussein's magic carpet, and in the twinkling of an eye had been transported to a sunny glade in the hampshire new forest. but ere the thought found words, a herd of buffaloes crossing the path, and then a group of wild figures armed to the teeth, their dark eyes glittering fiercely from beneath their white hoods as they dashed rapidly by, speedily dispelled the illusion, and showed how far we were from the peaceful highways and byways of home. in a beautiful nook on the slope of a hill is a charming little house, a perfect bower of roses. this is the english consulate, and as far as the desires of the eye can be gratified, man could not wish for anything more lovely; but mr. d----, as well as most people here, has been suffering acutely from fever. the very beauty we admire, namely, the wondrous luxuriance of the vegetation, is one of the great evils of the country, or rather becomes so, from the carelessness and indolence of man. were the land properly cultivated, abasia (as this part of circassia is called) would be a paradise. the soil is so fertile, and the climate so temperate, that nearly every description of grain, fruit, and vegetable might be grown with very little trouble. it seems almost incredible that in a country so rich and productive that a few hours' industry would insure an abundant harvest, every fruit and vegetable, including even potatoes, should be imported from trebisonde. unhappily the circassians are too proud and too indolent to work, and until better guarantees can be given for the preservation of life and property, colonists cannot of course be expected to settle. at present the russian soldiers are the only agricultural labourers, and as their military duties are severe, the result is that only sufficient ground is cultivated to supply the horses with hay and forage. military service in the caucasus has been for many years unpopular amongst the russian regiments. the duty is arduous, and the great distance from the capital causes it to be looked upon, especially by the officers, as a banishment little inferior to that of being sent to serve in siberia. indeed, some of those we knew were of opinion the northern was the less objectionable station of the two, for the constant attacks of fever, from which it seems almost impossible to escape, cause, not only exhaustion of body, but a mental depression that is very trying to the sufferers. this accounted for the haggard and cadaverous appearance of so large a proportion of the soldiery. we hear also that the ratio of mortality is very large. fever prevails all the summer, and is more or less dangerous according to the quantity of rain that falls, but during the months of july and august it usually rages with frightful severity. during a rainy season the mortality is quite terrible. last year out of five thousand soldiers three thousand were suffering from fever, while there was not one case amongst the seamen on board the russian men-of-war lying at anchor opposite the town. vessels, during the summer months, remain as far away in the roadstead as possible, the air from the town being so fraught with disease. during the course of our walk we ascended a little detached hill called the upper fort, and felt immediately the relief of being able to breathe the fresh invigorating mountain breeze, after the relaxing warmth and dampness of the air in the town below. happily the hospitals are here, for it is the only really healthy spot in soukoum. were the sick obliged to remain in the valley, the deaths would probably be doubled. close to the fort is a small house where omar pasha lived with some of his wives when the turkish army occupied abasia. it is quite a tiny place, only containing four rooms, but notwithstanding the confined space, the poor women, it is said, were never allowed to go out. tradition, however, does not say whether their beauty was so dazzling that it was not safe to risk their being seen by the profane eyes of unbelieving giaours. the views on all sides were most lovely, but the very beauty had an air of desolate grandeur that produced a feeling of depression. a perfect network of steep narrow valleys extended beyond the region of wooded hills immediately before us. great banks of forest clothed their steep sides, stretching far away, dark and silent, until their gloomy outlines were lost in the shadowy recesses of the mountains. here and there the silver line of a distant water-fall caught the rays of the setting sun, and glittered for a few minutes amidst the sombre masses of the woods; but, though so near the town, no sound broke the stillness--no song of birds, no voice of man, no cheerful token of the neighbourhood of cattle or home life disturbed the silence of evening. we had followed a sort of track that skirted the nearest valley. wild flowers grew around in such beauty and profusion that it was impossible not to gather handfuls as we passed. honeysuckle and eglantine hung in garlands from every bush; wild hops and vines festooned the trees. in every rocky hollow were tufts of the pretty caper-plant, with its lovely blossoms of mauve and white, while the ground seemed covered with bright geraniums, many-tinted asters, late cyclamen, and the dwarf myrtle. and then the wondrous beauty of the mossy wood we entered next, where the sunbeams quivered over a perfect carpet of lovely grasses, lichens, and graceful ferns. charming though it was, we dared not prolong our stroll, for the sun was sinking low, and not only is the evening air supposed to be laden with fever, but our companions assured us that it would be scarcely prudent to be beyond the fort when night had come. we quickened our steps, but notwithstanding all our haste, it was nearly dusk before we arrived at the town. it was startling to see, from time to time, a wild horseman gallop by, looking all the more wild and eerie from the dim uncertain light. mounted on little wiry horses, they rode at headlong speed towards the gloomy passes in the mountains, and long after they were out of sight we could hear their swords clattering against their large stirrups as they dashed rapidly over the rough ground. it is difficult to find adequate words in which to express our sense of the great kindness of all our friends in soukoum. not only have horses and an escort of cossacks been placed at our disposal during the whole of our stay, but every little wish has been anticipated. as to our poultry coops, they have been filled to overflowing with the best poultry the place can produce, and the milk of the only available cow in the town has been devoted to our use. the wish of seeing the various ferns and wild flowers of the country speedily brought baskets of the most lovely specimens on board the yacht. music and sketches were also among the generous gifts. in short, so great has been the kindness, that words fail with which to describe it. should, however, these few pages be ever seen by any of the kind and accomplished friends who made circassia even a more enchanting land to us than we had pictured it in our dreams, they will see that they are remembered with feelings of the truest gratitude and admiration by their english guests. few people are more accomplished than the russians; and in this remote corner of the world we have had musical evenings that would have obtained approval from the most fastidious connoisseur. beethoven and chopin probably little thought their delicious melodies would beguile many a weary hour in countries beyond the black sea. the governor arranged, soon after our arrival, to take us a long ride towards the mountains, and on landing at the appointed hour we found general b---awaiting us with quite a troop of men and horses drawn up on the beach. besides the horses provided for us, others had been prepared for domenico and mr. d----'s servant, who, under the guidance and protection of four soldiers, were to go on a foraging expedition to a neighbouring village. domenico, as we have said, has many excellent qualities, but courage is not perhaps his most brilliant virtue. at the last moment his small amount of valour failed him. he entreated with such a rueful countenance to be allowed to go with our stronger party--with earnest gesticulations and in a torrent of neapolitan he drew so moving a picture of what our feelings would be if he were brought back dead instead of the chickens--that our hearts were moved, and it was settled that he and the other servant should accompany us, and take the chance of what good luck might send in the shape of geese and turkeys. the escort consisted of six cossacks and a corporal. all were well armed with muskets, pistols, &c., but the horses they rode were so thin, and seemed so out of condition, that we wondered at first how the poor things could stand. we had not long started, however, before we perceived that they went wonderfully well, and actually looked better at the end of the ride than they did at the beginning. the horses provided for us were beautiful little persian arabs, lively yet gentle, perfectly free from vice, and having a light springy action most delightful to their riders. general b---had bought them in persia, and had paid a large price for them even there. the guide, a young circassian, grandly arrayed in a brilliant yellow coat and scarlet boots, and fully armed with matchlock, pistols, and sabre, rode at the head of the troop. circassian saddles look exceedingly clumsy and uncomfortable. they are very peaked and very high, but the circassians are first-rate horsemen; they use short stirrups, have the regular english hunting-seat, holding on by the knees, and rise in their trot in a very unmilitary but thoroughly jockey-like fashion. we had our own saddles, and they evidently excited much wonder amongst the little crowd that had collected. we were watched with absorbed interest, as the various preparations of tightening girths, &c., were made, but when at last mr. harvey mounted my sister and myself in the english fashion, the feelings of the spectators found vent in a little cry of astonishment. we were deeply impressed with the warlike fashion of our departure. the guide and two cossacks rode in front, then came general b----, some russian officers, and ourselves, followed by the rest of the soldiers, and a formidable jingling and clattering there was as the little troop swept through the town. we crossed the common, and entered a very pretty wood of beech and oak trees. occasional openings showed the sea on one side, and on the other low, steep, wooded hills, with huge boulders of granite rearing their grey sides above the trees. some of the masses of rock were so smooth and round that they looked like gigantic marbles, as if the titans had been disporting themselves amidst the lofty summits of el-barouz, and had rolled some of their playthings into the valleys beneath. from time to time we passed long narrow glens that gave vistas of apparently endless chains of hill and mountain; the nearest looking dark purple in the strong light, others beyond growing gradually paler and less distinct, until they became at last blended with the blue distance, a faint glimmer of snow alone indicating the most distant peaks. as the day wore on a soft breeze arose, that just rustled the leaves and made the air fresh and cool, doubly refreshing after the great heat of the morning. the earth gave forth the sweet scent that so often comes after heavy dew. the grassy way was good; our horses were excellent. it was delightful to be once more on horseback--a pleasure we had not had for months; so, giving the rein to our willing steeds, on we went at a pace that evidently astonished the cossacks, and delighted kind general b---and our circassian. as for the latter he was fairly enchanted; he waved his arms above his head, rose in his stirrups, and bending over his horse's neck, dashed forward at full speed. this rapid pace, however, could not be kept up after leaving the grassy plain, for we then entered the hill country, where forest and thick underwood made the way more difficult, and where treacherous bogs had to be skirted and sometimes traversed. these bogs during the winter and spring are almost impassable. during the summer months they can be crossed in certain directions. in consequence of the late drought, they are just now unusually firm, but nevertheless we had to jump over several little watercourses and dangerously green places. sometimes, too, the ground shook under the horses' feet as if it meant to swallow us up, but our sagacious animals made their way with the utmost precaution, and evidently thoroughly understood their business. very dreary-looking places were these bogs, as they lay brown and gloomy under the shadow of the forest, their treacherous surface only broken here and there by bushes of stunted birch-trees. we could well understand how goblin-like must seem the myriad lights of the will-o'-the-wisps, as they dance in unearthly fashion over such dark and dangerous morasses. again we plunged into the thick forest, and another hour's riding brought us to the entrance of a narrow defile, the gateway, as it were, to the mountain regions. the way became rough and difficult, being merely the bed of a mountain torrent, and the number of loose and slippery stones made it very troublesome for the horses to find secure footing. the scenery grew wild and stern; great masses of rock hung over the pass, in many places almost meeting overhead. little streams came rushing down from the heights, tumbling headlong over the precipice, when they arrived at the steep walls of rocks that hemmed us in on every side. the defile, or rather ravine, for it was evidently but a passage the stream had worn for itself in the course of countless ages of time, was so deep and narrow that it made one quite giddy to look up. vertigo ordinarily affects the head when looking down; we had never known the sensation before when looking up at a great height; but the rapid passage of the clouds across the narrow, crooked opening above, when looked at for a few minutes, made everything seem to whirl round. wherever a few broken stones had allowed a little earth to collect, masses of rhododendrons and groups of birch had taken root. their graceful forms and bright green leaves made cheerful spots of life and beauty amidst the rugged severity of the gloomy scene. as we advanced further into the pass, not a sound was heard but the rush of the mountain torrents, and the harsh cry of an eagle as he wheeled slowly over our heads. we all became silent. it was almost disagreeable to hear the champing of the horses, and the occasional rattle of the accoutrements, as we moved slowly but steadily on, our companions keeping a wary look-out on all sides, though it was believed that the country was at present unusually quiet. still a very few more miles must be our limit. it would not be prudent to advance much farther into the wild region before us. it must be admitted that on first starting we had thought our warlike escort was more for honour than for real use, but even before we had entered this savage defile it was evident how well it was for us that we were surrounded by so many brave protectors. "prevention is better than cure," and a strong party often prevents an attack being made. once amidst the gloomy defiles and dark recesses of these wild mountains defenceless travellers would have no chance against a predatory band; they would be as sheep walking into a lion's den. from time to time we had met parties of mountaineers, some on horseback, some on foot, but all completely and heavily armed. although in actual distance so few versts from the town, the mountains surround it so closely--the country is so desolate, and also intersected even in the lowlands by ravines and morasses--that, had we been alone, resistance to these armed bands would have been hopeless. before assistance could have arrived we should, in all probability, have been conveyed away to some distant fortress, there to remain until the required ransom had been paid. the astonishment of the circassians to see women riding in the european fashion was most amusing. native women, when they travel, ride like men. it was evidently a deep mystery to them how we continued to keep on. they generally pulled up and watched us as long as we remained in sight, expecting, probably hoping, we should ere long fall off. one man was so absorbed in wonder that he lost his seat. his horse made a sudden jump, and the rider fell so heavily, and with such a crash, that we thought he must be killed. however, in a few seconds, to our great relief, he jumped up, looking very crest-fallen (for such an accident is accounted exceedingly disgraceful), and climbed into his saddle amidst the jeers and laughter of his companions. it may easily be supposed how delightful and interesting we found the ride. but pleasures must come to an end; days are short in these parts; evening was coming on, and it would be risking too much to let darkness find us on such dangerous ground. unwillingly, therefore, we had to content ourselves with longing glances at the wild ravines that branched upwards in all directions. the solitude, the gloom, the inexpressible grandeur of the dark frowning rocks, the very danger, gave an additional charm, and, like true women, we longed the more to penetrate into the forbidden land. fortunately we were all too much accustomed to mountain travelling to feel nervous when traversing narrow and lofty ledges, for it was decided that it would be more prudent to avoid the pass by which we had entered, and so regain the town by a different route. our guide, therefore, led us up the face of a precipice by a pathway that looked only fit for goats, but the clever little horses made their way with a steadiness and skill beyond praise, and of which all the cavalcade could not boast, for at one or two uncommonly skeary places poor domenico lost heart and dismounted, preferring to trust to his own powers of climbing, a very unwise proceeding on his part, for a horse will often make his way safely where a man's nerve may completely fail him. we found it better not to look down too much. when we were occasionally able to do so, the savage wildness of the scene was inexpressibly grand, especially at one point where, on turning sharply round the shoulder of an almost perpendicular rock, we found ourselves hanging as it were over a chasm black as night itself, and where, at an immense depth beneath, we could hear the roar and chafing of waters, though the torrent itself was invisible in the darkness of the depth below. slowly and carefully we made our way down the steep side of the ravine, until we arrived at the bed of the stream that was to serve as road to take us back into the hill country. at this season the brown, turbid current, though it roared angrily over the many rocks and stones that impeded its course, was not deep, and, after the slipping and climbing we had had for the last hour, it was quite pleasant only to have to wade through water, notwithstanding the occasional splashings that it entailed. this gorge was quite as narrow as that by which we had entered, and on emerging from its darkness and gloom into the brightness and verdure of the hills, we felt as dante must have done when he returned to earth from his visit to the inferno. the stream partook of the character of the scene, and soon after entering the grassy plains and verdant woods became a pretty rippling river, though the masses of stones on each side its bed showed that its violence could be again excited by the winter rains. a few versts from the town, on a steep grass bank, shaded by a picturesque group of beech, was a very pretty wooden house (the only habitation we had seen all day), something like a large swiss chalet. the mother and family of the late prince dimitri sherwasidzi, who died a few months ago, live here. the ladies, dressed in deep mourning, were sitting in the broad verandah. they wore black woollen robes, and had veils of the same sombre material wrapped round their heads. the dress was most funereal. the tall, slender women, with their gloomy drapery, that hung around them in heavy but graceful folds, looked like figures from a greek frieze. mourning here is very rigid. for three months after the death of the head of a family, the ladies see no visitors excepting near relatives. every week the princess sherwasidzi, attended by her women, visits the grave of her son. for several hours they weep and mourn, casting ashes upon their heads with lamentable cries and screams. standing a little apart from the family dwelling is another similar but smaller house, entirely devoted to the entertainment of guests. hospitality is much esteemed and largely practised by the upper class of circassians. no greater praise can be awarded than to say that a man "keeps forty tables." the ride back in the cool evening was very pleasant, but devoid of incident, with the exception of seeing our poor domenico sent flying over his horse's head. after having so well surmounted all the little difficulties of the day, his horse stumbled over a sand hillock, and this inglorious somersault was the result. happily no harm was done beyond a torn coat, but the cossacks were immensely delighted at his discomfiture. even the grim old corporal gave his grey moustache a pull to hide the unwonted smile in which he indulged. chapter xiv. circassian men and women. our life here is full of quaint contrasts--a curious mixture of wildness and civilisation. the days are passed in wild rides amidst the hills and mountains, the dash of danger that attends them adding zest to the interest of seeing scenery, magnificent in the sublimity of its savage grandeur, and exquisitely lovely in the tender beauty of its sequestered valleys and fern-clad forests. at eight o'clock the scene changes, and we find ourselves in the midst of a most kind and agreeable little society, where music and dancing and merry talk make the hours pass much too quickly. the little world of soukoum is of course very limited, but it comprises so many charming and clever people that one cannot help regretting that some of them should, like the flowers in the desert, be destined to bloom so far away from the more frequented haunts of men. general b----, the governor, is unmarried, but the admiral's young wife, madame g----, aided by her pretty sister, mlle. olga j----, contrives to make her rough circassian house as attractive as if it were in paris or st. petersburg. mr. d---is an excellent musician, and count s----'s mazurkas and valses are so brilliant that a dancing spirit invariably comes upon all who hear them. then there is a doctor, the merriest of men, who plays heartrending melodies upon the flute. unluckily, however, in the midst of the plaintive death-strains of edgardo and desdemona, we catch sight of the brightest pair of little black tartar eyes, twinkling with such a droll expression over the music, that instead of crying we all begin to laugh, which, it must be admitted, spoils the effect the musician intended to produce. last, though not least amongst our kind and charming friends, is the princess constantine s----, a young russian from moscow, who has lately married the brother of the reigning prince of abasia. very young, very pretty, and accustomed to the luxuries and gaieties of a capital, she has accepted the difficulties of her life here with a good sense and with a sweetness of temper that have already done wonders in her circassian household. the prince was, unfortunately for us, with his brother at shamshesherai during our stay at soukoum, but the friendly, even affectionate hospitality we received from princess constantine and her family, while it gave increased charm to our visit, added much to the pain we felt when the time came for saying the cruel word, "farewell." how often we have thought since of the merry hours we spent together in that barn-like house. though pretty outside, from the climbing plants and fine trees by which it was shaded, it would be difficult to find anything more comfortless than the interior. great bare rooms, without ceilings, and where the rats sometimes run across the rafters, a general untidiness, and often also a want of cleanliness, make circassian houses, though the owners may be very wealthy, anything but inviting to a foreigner. princess constantine and her mother had effected many improvements, especially with regard to cleanliness and order, but still the aspect of her home was cheerless in the extreme. the salon was a large, whitewashed room, containing a table, a couple of sofas, and a few chairs that seemed to add to the dreariness of the long wall against which they were arranged; but there was a good piano, though unhappily it had occasionally to serve as sideboard and as a stand for several books. the princess's bedroom was somewhat more furnished, though scarcely more comfortable. the wooden planks of which the walls were made let in the wind through every joint, so that immense persian rugs were stretched round the bed to keep off the intrusive breezes. the dressing-table was like an oasis in the desert, so gay was it with lace and muslin; its grand gold toilette-service and looking-glass, set with rubies, seeming quite out of place in so comfortless an apartment. the walls were hung with the prince's magnificent arms and accoutrements. some of the high-peaked abasian saddles were very gorgeous, being covered with crimson velvet embroidered with gold. the arms would have excited the envy of many a parisian "elegant," so fine was the temper of the sword-blades and daggers, and so beautiful were the jewelled hilts and scabbards. the poor princess gave a half-melancholy, half-ludicrous account of her first arrival from moscow, and of her despair at the poverty-stricken, desolate appearance of her new home. she has by degrees succeeded in introducing a little more order and comfort in the household, and hopes some day to have furniture; but in the present unsettled state of affairs, it is thought more prudent to avoid anything like display or expense. she tells us that her brother-in-law, prince michael, who, besides being very rich, has also a salary from russia as governor of abasia, keeps up a considerable amount of state at shamshesherai. the ladies of the family, though nominally christians, retain nevertheless many of their mohammedan customs. they never appear in public unveiled, and though allowed to see their male relatives, they lead a very secluded life, apart from the men, passing their time in smoking, making sweetmeats, and arranging their dresses. they receive little or no education, and speak neither russ nor any other european language. our friend tells us that although very great beauties are sometimes seen, yet in her opinion circassian women are not generally good-looking, and that the abasians are decidedly plain. certainly at present we have not seen one native woman with any claims to beauty. the national dress, also, does not heighten their charms. they usually wear loose turkish trousers, made of white cotton, and a peculiarly frightful upper garment of some dark cloth, made precisely like the coats worn by high church clergymen--tight and straight, and buttoned from the throat to the feet. a striped shawl is sometimes twisted round them like an apron. a blue gauze veil is thrown over the head, and their hair, which is generally long and thick, is worn in two heavy plaits that hang down behind. the beauties who obtain such great reputation in constantinople and the west almost invariably come from georgia and the valleys near el-barouz. in those districts the women have magnificent eyes and fair complexions. it must be admitted, also, that we have arrived too late in the season to see the good-looking girls. in short, they have all been sold. early in the year certain traders arrive from time to time, and it is rumoured that circassian parents do not object to dispose of their daughters for a consideration. it is said also that the fair damsels themselves, far from making difficulties, are delighted to escape from the tedium of home-life, and to take their chance of being purchased by a rich pasha. although prince constantine's house was so badly furnished, so devoid of ordinary comforts, still there was a sort of eastern grandeur in the multitude of servants and retainers who were attached to the household. land here is almost valueless, for nature is so bountiful that her wild fruits, and a little indian corn, with the addition of poultry that seem to feed and take care of themselves, amply suffice for the support of the inhabitants. a great man's wealth is, therefore, estimated by the number of serfs he possesses, rather than by the extent of his territory. the serfs are bound to supply their lord with a certain quantity of wood, poultry, and service, the latter duty being generally compounded for by one of the family becoming a permanent servant or workman in the household of their prince. the lord, on his side, bestows land and protection on his retainers. serfdom is not so galling here as it was in russia, for the owner has no power, or at any rate it is not the custom, to sell his serfs; he may remove them from one part of his property to another, but even such a measure would be considered tyrannical. in fact, serfdom in circassia very much resembles clanship as it was in old times in scotland. each man is proud of his connection with his chief, and the chief considers himself bound to protect and avenge the wrongs of his followers. like the old scottish chieftains, also, the circassian princes, though possessing numerous bodies of retainers, and often vast tracts of country, are but scantily supplied with coin, and have but little means at their disposal for the due education of their sons, or for enabling them to obtain the cultivation of mind, as well as manners, that can be gained by seeing other countries. from time to time the emperor summons some of the young men to st. petersburg. they there receive a certain amount of training and education, but like most half-civilised people, the young princes are, with few exceptions, so devoted to the wild life they have been accustomed to lead amidst their native mountains, that going to st. petersburg is by no means popular. perhaps, also, it is considered but as another name for banishment; for occasionally, when the reigning family is supposed to be too influential, pretexts have easily been found for retaining the young heirs at the russian court. the prince of m---and his mother have thus been for years in russia, in spite of all their efforts to obtain permission to return to their own country. they remain in a sort of honourable captivity, receiving a large pension, while their estates at home are managed by the russian government. the princess, we were told, is a woman of remarkable talent and of very enlightened views. by her judicious measures she had effected considerable improvement amongst her people, but, unhappily for her, she was some years ago suspected, or accused, of corresponding with schamyl, and was therefore at once removed from temptation. her palace and gardens were at one time renowned for their beauty, but during the occupation of the country by the turks, the palace was plundered and the gardens were destroyed, though omar pasha did his best to save them. the invading army was on the whole harmless compared with the lawless bands of camp-followers, who, hovering on the flanks and rear of the turkish troops, ravaged the unfortunate country, burning and destroying as they passed, when they found no more booty was to be obtained. a few days after our arrival, we were painfully reminded of the insecurity of the country, by the intelligence that the body of a soldier had been found in the pretty valley we had crossed on our ride towards the mountains. a party had been sent out to cut firewood; the unfortunate man strayed away from his comrades, and was missing when the detachment returned. his body was discovered this morning, shot through the head with a circassian bullet. though nominally in possession of the russians, circassia is still in a very disturbed state. the mountain fastnesses are held by the circassians, and until roads are made, morasses drained, and the plains and valleys that lie between the mountains and the sea are inhabited and cultivated, predatory bands can traverse the country at their will, making it unsafe for any foreigner to venture beyond the protection of the russian forts and pickets. even strangers can see that circassia, like a lovely wild animal, must be tamed rather than beaten, and that roads and harbours will avail far more towards her complete subjection than the intimidating presence of a vast standing army. though the abasians have now for some years been russian subjects, their sympathies are with their highland brethren, and it is well known that they aid and abet the guerilla war that so incessantly harasses the district. the russian officers declare that this species of hidden warfare is most trying to the troops. it brings neither honour nor profit, and the hatred that is felt by the circassians is heartily returned by their conquerors. in georgia this ill-feeling does not exist. the people have shown themselves much more amenable to foreign rule. the georgians are more indolent and less warlike than their neighbours in circassia, and also have a great tie with russia in being members of the same church. the religion of the circassians is shrouded in much mystery. apparently they acknowledge no supreme being, they have no saints, nor do they observe any sacred days. sometimes they sacrifice a chicken, though to whom, or for what, nobody knows. some profess, however, a species of mohammedanism, though they are absolutely disowned by all good moslems, who consider such co-religionists a disgrace, and call them heretics and pagans of the worst description. they are amongst the few people in the world who make use of no sort of ceremony, even on occasion of a marriage. a certain price having been covenanted for, the father takes his daughter to her new home, and there leaves her, having received the gun, or horse, for which she is considered the fair equivalent. a mountain woman is valuable, as she is an excellent beast of burden, and a very hard-working slave. from all we hear of the mountaineers, they seem to be a haughty, reserved people, proud of their poverty, of their unspotted lineage, and of their dauntless courage. loving their wild country with passionate devotion, no reverses dishearten them. war is both their duty and their happiness, and at the cry of such a leader as schamyl, they flock eagerly around his standard, prepared to suffer or to die in defence of their beloved prince, and of the wild liberty that is far dearer to them than life. few characters of modern days are invested with such romantic interest--nay, even at one time, with such mysterious interest--as that of schamyl. born in prosaic modern times, his life presents all the attributes of the hero of the middle ages. endowed with personal beauty and strength rare even amongst the hardy tribe of which he was the chief, nature had bestowed upon him another gift, yet more precious. she had given him the rare tact, the wondrous charm that wins personal love, and that enables men, and sometimes women, to rule mankind with absolute power. it is that love which makes men rush to death with heroic rapture, eager to shed their blood at the bidding of their beloved leader. the very faults also in schamyl's character endeared him to his followers, or rather he adroitly contrived that they should be the means of binding his people still more closely to him. naturally of a morbid and melancholy disposition, he was at times subject to gusts of stormy passion that awed and subdued all those who witnessed the terrific bursts of rage which transformed the stern, calm man into a wrathful demon. woe to him who aroused the dread spirit! the strongest men quailed before the furious glance, the mighty arm of their terrible chief. it is reasonable to suppose that these outbursts were but the effects of insanity, for during one attack of ferocious rage the unhappy man slew his young wife and infant child, to both of whom he had been tenderly attached. it is said that though in after-years many other wives filled his harem, never again did any woman gain that place in his heart which had been occupied by the young girl whom he had done to death with his own hand. not only did the great strength and wild fury of schamyl awe his people into subjection, he skilfully led them to believe that on him the mantle of the prophet had descended, and that in spirit he was constantly conveyed to the presence of the almighty, there to receive the commands of the divine will. the wild ravings, therefore, that fell from his lips were treasured by his followers as direct communications from heaven. schamyl no doubt possessed sufficient control over himself to have some method in his madness, and contrived that his sentences should convey threats, encouragement, and orders calculated to strengthen his power amongst wild and independent people. it is difficult to ascertain, from the many conflicting statements, whether he was a mohammedan or not; probably he found a certain amount of religious fervour of great utility in augmenting his influence amongst the more distant tribes, and he succeeded in making them believe in him as in a leader directly inspired by heaven. however visionary may have been schamyl's claims to be a great prophet, there is no doubt that his talents as a soldier and as a politician were of a very high order. the dark hour passed, who so thoughtful for his people--who so tender to his soldiers as this wild mountaineer? it is related of him that he often tended the wounded and sick with his own hand. he lived amidst his troops, sharing their privations and their danger, and was ever foremost in the fight. he rushed to the attack with a confidence that inspired his followers with unlimited faith, and for years it was believed that whenever schamyl led in person victory was certain. besides this dauntless courage, all the russian generals agree that he was a great and skilful strategist. possessing a thorough knowledge of his native mountains, his positions were chosen with consummate judgment, and rarely did he make an attack unless fairly certain of the result. for years did he baffle the strong force and the renowned generals that russia sent against him. from his stronghold of dargi-vedenna, in daghistan, he issued his mandates, which were carried out with unquestioning obedience by the devoted tribes. at length time, unceasing attacks, and the tremendous power of money and strength began to tell. what could a few poor, brave, diminishing highland tribes do against the mighty empire of all the russias? the extent of schamyl's dominions dwindled to the barren, bleak mountain sides in the heart of the caucasus; but here his stronghold seemed impregnable, and but for treachery, perhaps, he might still be reigning in his wild mountain fortress. in an evil hour for him, he admitted to his friendship a foreigner, who basely betrayed the trust reposed in him, and, after months of starvation and suffering, the noble old warrior and the remains of his band were delivered over to captivity. to the credit of the russian government, their prisoners were treated with the utmost kindness and consideration, and schamyl has found a friend in the czar, and a home at the russian court. for the benefit of the country itself, it is greatly to be desired that russia should speedily obtain possession of the whole of circassia, and its adjacent provinces, but all the romantic sympathies of one's nature are stirred by the history of the few poor, brave men who fought to the death to preserve their liberty in their wild mountain homes. though the tribes who more immediately owned schamyl's supremacy have been mainly destroyed, there are still many others who are as thorns in the sides of the government. the very fact of so distinguished a commander as general b---being appointed to soukoum is ominous of more than usual danger and difficulty. his presence denotes that there are grave apprehensions entertained that another desperate effort may be made by some of the most disaffected. it is earnestly to be hoped that the threatening storm may be averted in time. such outbursts are most disastrous, and until they can be effectually checked no permanent improvement can be made in this lovely country. not only is general b---a brave and distinguished soldier, he is a kind, generous-hearted man, and having passed the greater part of his life in the caucasus, knows both the country and its many dialects thoroughly. he has held several military commands, and has also been employed diplomatically both in turkey and persia, for he has the rare talent of speaking six eastern languages, besides french, german, and russ. general b---is by birth a livonian, but has not seen his native country for nearly thirty years. he is now quite acclimated, and settled here, and not only have the wild beauties of his adopted home become very dear to him, but he also loves the stormy, adventurous life he leads. general b---speaks in the highest terms of prince bariatinsky, who, he considers, has done more for russia and for russian interests in the last few years than any of the other commanders-in-chief have succeeded in doing for upwards of fifty. besides being an excellent soldier, the prince is also a forbearing and judicious governor. the conciliatory measures he has adopted with the inhabitants of the conquered places have done much (especially in georgia) towards establishing a friendly feeling between them and the russian government, and should this good understanding gain ground, and the distracted people once really know the blessings of peace, russia may hope to see the country that has so long been merely a battle-field, costing treasures of blood and money, converted into a very mine of wealth, yielding abundance of corn and cattle from her rich valleys, and a mighty harvest of minerals from the vast storehouse of her mountains. chapter xv. a last ride. we endeavoured to return in a small way the kind hospitality of our friends by having a little déjeûner on board. breakfast was prepared on deck, we arranged quantities of roses and ferns round the masts, and the yacht was dressed out gaily with all her flags. as the governor came on board, the russian ensign was hoisted at the fore, and when our friends left us, the claymore's four little cannon fired a salute, with much military, or rather naval, precision. the modest roar of our diminutive weapons had scarcely subsided when the huge guns of the russian frigate bellowed forth the answering salute, then flash after flash came in rapid succession from the other vessels, until the air was filled with the warlike sounds. long after the report was over, the distant thunder was heard muttering fainter and fainter as it rolled from cavern to cavern amongst the hills and valleys, as if it had awakened all the sleeping echoes of the mountains. the more we see of this country, the more we are enraptured with its great and varied beauties. but beautiful as we find it now, every one tells us we can hardly form an idea of its loveliness when arrayed in its garment of spring flowers. then the earth is carpeted with violets, narcissus, bluebells, cyclamen, and the many-coloured iris, while the sides of the hills glow with the red, pink, and lilac blossoms of rhododendrons and azaleas. wherever we walk and ride, we see the wild vine growing luxuriantly amongst the trees (its long branches often covered with fruit), making delicate green arches and canopies in the darker shade of the woods. the grapes are small, and not so sweet as when cultivated, but the slightly acid flavour is very agreeable in a hot climate. it is sad to see the bunches decaying on the vines, for the people never take the trouble of gathering them to dry for winter consumption. day by day the feeling of pain grows stronger to see that, while nature has been so generous, so profuse in her valuable gifts, man will not even take the trouble to avail himself of the luxuries she offers with so lavish a hand. undeterred by the sad fate of the poor soldier, and confident in the valour of the gallant cossacks and of the russian officers who accompanied us, we made as many rides as possible in the neighbourhood of the town, but it was in vain to look with longing eyes towards the mountains. they were pronounced unsafe, and we dared not venture near them. still the hilly low ground was so wondrously lovely that we could have ridden for months instead of days, and have found fresh beauties to charm us. the last ride we can never forget, perhaps because it had the sad charm of being the last--because we knew that each long lingering glance would never be renewed, that our eyes would never again rest upon the marvellous beauties of form and colouring that were lying in such abundant loveliness around us. soon after leaving the town we skirted a long narrow valley that gradually inclined towards the hills. we were riding through masses of fern, that began here and there to show a few bright autumnal tints. on the grassy slopes above and below were groups of magnificent trees, their long shadows almost stretching across the valley. far away to the left the giant mountains reared their lofty heads, great dark lines marking the many ravines that scored their rugged sides. so still was the air, so absolute was the hush of evening, that not a bush rustled, not a leaf moved in the great calm. we could only hear the tinkle of a little brook as it ran merrily amongst the brushwood beneath, and as we occasionally stopped to listen, there came the faint murmur of many a distant streamlet, as it threaded its way through the far away valleys and passes of the mountains. the sun, that had been very oppressive before we entered the valley, now only glowed upon the tops of the hills, making the trees and rocks on one side quiver in the flood of light, while all was cool and fresh around us. we pursued our way through fern and underwood, up hill and down, sometimes crossing the little stream that rippled with a thousand pleasant voices over shining stones and gravel, then again entering a thick wood, where the trees grew so closely together that the sunbeams in vain attempted to pierce the interlaced boughs above, and where we had to bend low over our horses' necks to avoid the masses of climbing plants that hung like ropes from the branches of the trees, until we arrived at an open space or plateau on the summit of a steep hill, and here we had a view as beautiful as it was extensive. in this lovely region the atmosphere is so transparent that space seems almost annihilated. the eye travels far into the deep blue distance, tracing peak after peak in the wondrous clearness, until at length sky and mountain are blended into one line of quivering light, and the sight, fatigued with the magnitude and remoteness of objects on the vast horizon, seeks rest by gazing on the tender green of the fair valleys spread so invitingly around. far, far away, glittering with dazzling whiteness, was the range of mighty snow-mountains, some of the nearer peaks frowning majestically above the sombre masses of the great pine forests that stretch for more than a hundred miles into the interior of the country. the chain of the caucasus is considerably more lofty than that of the alps. the highest point of el-barouz is rather more than 2,000 feet higher than mont blanc; but from the climate being so much warmer, there is apparently less eternal snow here than in switzerland. the valleys very much resemble those of the tyrol, near botzen. the same rich pastures, the same fertilizing streams, sunny slopes, and wooded hills are found here, but, unlike happy tyrol, in the sister vales of circassia not a house is to be found, and, unless a warlike band should pass, not a human being may be met with for hours. during this day's ride the only man we saw was a goatherd, who, fully armed with sword and gun, was tending his flock of circassian goats. these pretty creatures, smaller than those of greece and syria, are covered with long delicate hair, with which the abasian women make many fine stuffs. the man was sitting under a tree up which a vine had climbed, and the ripe grapes were hanging in great clusters, high on the upper branches. seeing that we looked both thirsty and tired, with the courtesy of a true gentleman and mountaineer, he threw down gun and sword, climbed the tree with the activity of a squirrel, and in a few minutes descended, laden with bunches of the lovely purple fruit, which he offered us with a grace of manner both simple and dignified. we had come into his native woods, and with the easy bearing of a stately host he offered his guests the best refreshment in his power. he then showed us his matchlock, of which he seemed not a little proud. it was made of beautifully-polished walnut wood, had scarcely any stock, and was so small that it looked like a pretty child's toy. like most mountaineers, the circassians are excellent marksmen. they fire very quickly, so much so that they scarcely appear to take aim. on horseback they are equally at home, and load and fire with the greatest rapidity when at full gallop. war with them makes the delight as well as the occupation of their lives. they despise and avoid every sort of domestic and agricultural employment, and consider even hunting, unless in pursuit of some dangerous animal, beneath manly dignity. to make the boys hardy and independent, as soon as they are old enough to sit on horseback they are sent to some friend's house, in order to be completely removed from the enervating influence of home. here they remain several years, only occasionally visiting their parents. during this period they are taught warlike exercises, and are encouraged to encounter every description of danger and fatigue. often are these hardy lads sent into the mountains during the severest winter weather to pass their days in the saddle, their only shelter at night a cave or an overhanging rock, their only food the roots of grasses and herbs. no wonder that the russians find it hard to subdue men who not only from their earliest youth have been thus inured to hardship, hunger, and thirst, but are also entrenched amidst the wildest of mountain fastnesses--fastnesses that can only be reached by many days' journey through forests and over morasses, where vegetation grows with such rank luxuriance that few would encounter willingly the dangerous miasma that reigns there nearly all the year. besides weaving woollen stuffs for clothing, the women of abasia and georgia make very pretty striped shawls and rugs from the long hair of the circassian goat. they also excel in dyes, the colours mostly used, red and dark blue, being exceedingly fine in shade. the red is clear and brilliant, and the blue is quite free from the black dingy hue of the cloth worn by the fellah women in egypt, but is like a dark shade of the bright "impératrice" blue. they also make the crimson boots or slippers that are worn alike by both sexes. the manufacture is very simple: the skins are scraped, tanned, and then dyed. the boots are cut out in a single piece and sewn up in front, the seam being lined with a narrow strip of leather. they are then thoroughly soaked in a mixture of resinous gum and water, which makes them nearly waterproof, and the owner should wear them thus wet for a few hours. the process is not very agreeable, but has its reward, inasmuch as the boots then take the exact shape of the feet, and fit with the pliability and comfort of a glove. the women have besides a very ingenious way of carving beads. a long piece of wood, dyed red or black, is pierced lengthways by a heated wire. it is shaped either into an octagon, or is smoothed round. then, with a knife and heated needles, it is cut and engraved into various patterns. considerable taste is often shown in the designs, many of them being remarkably intricate and pretty. when the wand is sufficiently decorated, the beads are sliced off the size required. beyond these primitive ornaments, we could not hear of any other articles de luxe being manufactured in abasia. in georgia there are native jewellers, who make both gold and silver ornaments, and we saw some bracelets and necklaces made of gold that seemed very pure. the designs were also good, but the workmanship was coarse and ill-finished, and far inferior to the jewellery both of persia and india. but now the day had come when we must leave this fairy-like eastern land--this earthly paradise, where war, suffering, and trouble have taken such deep root. perhaps, were it happy, peaceful, and prosperous, one would care for it less, for prosperity and riches have little need of sympathy, and can always ensure plenty of friends, whereas a poor people and a distracted country are thankful to accept all the friendship that may be bestowed upon them. it may appear like exaggeration to say what real pain also it was to part from such newly-made friends, but we must have had very cold hearts not to have been touched by the great, unmerited kindness we had received. so now we must say good-bye to the joyous rides, to the merry evenings, that kindly intercourse has made so pleasant, and can only look forward, in exchange, to many a rough day and night on the stormy waves of the black sea. as usual in this world, past pleasures must be paid for by some pain, and our visit here has been both so charming and so interesting, that we have been beguiled into making a stay somewhat longer than warranted by strict prudence. autumn brings many a storm to this easily-excited sea, and we shall be fortunate if we get back to the bosphorus, or sevastopol, without a "streak," as it is called, of bad weather. at present, however, all looks fair and sunny, the wind is favourable, to-night therefore we leave. our friends accompanied us to the shore, and the last cordial hand-shake was given. when we arrived on board the yacht we found that kind thoughts for us had already preceded us there. flowers, grapes, music, drawings--everything they thought could add to our comfort or pleasure--had been sent on board by these kind people. the anchor was up, the sails were set, the yacht was only lying-to until we embarked. the sea was as smooth as glass, the light of the rising moon covered the mountains with a tender veil, as we glided slowly away from soukoum. not a sound broke the silence of the night but the gentle wash of the water against the bows of the vessel. a soft breeze just filled the sails, and with really sad hearts we watched landmark after landmark disappear, until, on rounding the headland of the bay, the last light of the little town was shut out, and we said farewell, probably for ever, to the loveliest spot we have ever seen. chapter xvi. sinope. after leaving soukoum we had three days of fine weather, though the winds had been somewhat capricious and baffling. still we had done well, having had a run of 102 miles during the first twenty-four hours, and of 86 during the next; but on the 24th of september the wind began to moan ominously, and a thick fog was drawing up to windward like a curtain. the sea began to heave up and down with a sort of heavy, sullen motion, as if gathering its strength before a battle of the elements began. under these circumstances, and having a wish also to see sinope, we resolved to go there, rather than brave the threatening gale. the helm was therefore put up, and about seven p.m. we made out one high and two low islands, which, on nearer approach, resolved themselves into a very narrow isthmus, that, stretching far away into the sea, terminated in a steep rocky promontory. on the neck of the isthmus stands sinope, commanding a beautiful view of the long range of mountains and wooded hills that line the coast. the town itself is a quaint place, tightly squeezed into some old castellated walls, with a fierce little pepper-box of a fort at each corner. outside the town, a long straggling greek suburb runs up the hill for a considerable distance, its low red and brown houses looking very picturesque amongst the groups of cypress and fig-trees. the roadstead, though open and exposed to the east, has the reputation of being perfectly secure, and we find ourselves in quite a little crowd of greek, turkish, austrian, and russian vessels. it seems, therefore, that others besides ourselves have had forebodings of bad weather, and have taken refuge in this, the only safe anchorage on the southern side of the black sea. it is singular, however, that the anchorage should be so safe, for it is difficult to believe that a heavy sea would not set into the bay, should the wind come from any quarter between north-east and south. it is said, however, that a vessel has never been known to be driven from her anchor; so the only solution is that these winds never blow here with violence. certainly during our stay, though a tremendous sea was running about a mile or two out, but little swell ever came up to the anchorage. on the morning after our arrival, an intimation came from the pasha (one of the sultan's numerous brothers-in-law), that he wished to pay us a visit. soon after twelve his highness arrived, attended by a very numerous suite, and accompanied by a greek gentleman, the austrian consul. we were somewhat dismayed at the sight of such a goodly company, as our little cabins could not possibly accommodate so large a party of guests, and a turk of high rank does not like to remain on deck. all were anxious to come below; it was therefore somewhat difficult to prevent undue crowding, for the pasha was so interested in all he saw, that he insisted upon visiting every part of the vessel. he appeared an exceedingly intelligent man, and had a vivacity of manner somewhat unusual in a turk. when the cakes and sweetmeats appeared they were accompanied by champagne and liqueurs, both of which beverages were highly approved of. happily by the laws of the koran they are not considered wine, and the champagne was drunk in tumblers without any hesitation. as the governor descended into his state barge, manned by ten rowers in grand but rather dirty crimson jackets and fezzes, the yacht gave him the proper salute of fifteen guns, a compliment that was promptly returned by a turkish man-of-war, to the intense joy of all the little boys in the town, who came flocking out of numberless narrow streets and alleys in an astonishing variety of dress, or rather undress. later in the day we proceeded to make a little tour round the town. sinope is divided into two parts, one inhabited by turks, the other by greeks. the streets in the greek quarter do not deserve the name. they are little better than rough water-courses, and are so narrow that the overhanging eaves of the houses almost touch each other. but what a wealth of picturesque beauty do these old houses present to the eye of an artist! built entirely of wood, they are either painted a deep chocolate colour, or are left to brown and blacken with age, whilst so much shadow is lightened both by the great masses of moss or lichen that cling to the roof, and by the bright green of the vines that half cover the walls. the mode of building is peculiar. the frame is joined together, and the roof is put on and finished. the walls are then made by means of layers of shingles (long narrow pieces of wood), fastened to the upright posts. these planks are of uneven length, and project over each other in a confused irregularity, which though charming in a sketch, leaves so many yawning crevices that each house must be a veritable temple of the winds. the majority of the houses were much larger than might have been expected in so small and poor a town; but sometimes as many as ten or twelve families will live together, not in separate flats or apartments, but as one household. it would seem as if in days of yore their ancestors must have been bitten by tarantulas, for dancing is a perfect mania with the greeks here of all ages and classes. "young men and maidens," old men and women, dance every evening, with an animation and an unwearied delight that neither poverty nor age seems able to diminish. their principal aim, therefore, in building, is to have a large "salle de danse" for winter use, and as soon as this portion of the house is completed, the various families squeeze themselves into a few little rooms, contentedly enduring gaping walls and half-finished floors, so long as they have space for the beloved romaika. though the houses are so crowded, they are nevertheless beautifully clean. a constant scrubbing seems going on, a process, strange to say, that is also extended to the inhabitants. the women are really lovely, their features having the delicately cut outline that is so beautiful in the ancient greek statues. many have exquisitely fair complexions, and we fell in love immediately with their hair, for it had that dusky, half golden, half red tint only seen in the tresses of the gorgeous beauties of titian and georgione. it was a painful disenchantment to find that it owed its beauty not to nature, but to henna--in fact it was dyed. so enamoured are the sinope women of this colour, that even the babies in arms have their scanty little locks tinged with the ruddy hue. still, putting aside the disappointment of their hair, the women were worthy of all the admiration we bestowed upon them. not only have they delicate features and complexions, but their eyes also are unusually beautiful; large, lustrous and dark, without being black, they have a tender, deprecating look that reminds one of the inexpressibly touching expression seen in the eyes of the unhappy beatrice cenci. it is a well-known saying that pretty women generally dress well; either they adorn the dress, or the dress adorns them. the sinope beauties are no exception to the rule, and the gay costume adds another attraction to the charms of the wearer. on a fête-day a sinope belle puts a many-coloured handkerchief over her head, which she ties as tightly as possible under the chin, in order to make her cheeks look round and smooth. in this, perhaps, she is a little mistaken, as ladies of other lands are who tighten their waists by way of improving their figures. another handkerchief is twisted round the head, beneath which the hair falls in two or three long thick plaits, while a few little curls are coquettishly allowed to stray over the forehead. her cloth jacket, of some bright colour, generally scarlet, blue, or green, is half covered with a rich embroidery of black or gold braid, and is left open in front, to show a full white chemise that is drawn up closely round the throat. a short petticoat of fringed silk, or a striped shawl of many colours is worn over large turkish trousers, the toilet being completed by a crimson scarf fastened as a sash round the waist. altogether it would be difficult to find a more brilliant or becoming costume. the fair damsel also wears all her worldly wealth on her head and neck, and hanging from her ears, in the shape of long strings of gold or silver coins. unlike their turkish neighbours, therefore, the sinope greeks have the inestimable advantage of being able to ascertain by the same glance whether the fortune equals the fair face of the young beauties amongst whom they have to select their wives. for the first time for some years we saw again, not only middle-aged women, but women of a middle age, that were both well preserved and good-looking. in most countries the men have their proper allowance of the complete seven ages, but out of england, and in eastern countries especially, it is rare to find women of the poorer classes who have more than three--namely, childhood, girlhood, and decrepit old age. from the second to the third is only a step, and a young girl has scarcely passed the bloom of early youth ere she changes in a marvellously short time into a wrinkled, toothless, shrivelled old woman. it was really refreshing to look at the good-looking women of uncertain age at sinope; they had such a bright, matronly, and, if the simile may be used, such a sunshiny air about them. the people seemed wonderfully good-natured, and bestowed upon us many nods and pleasant looks, as if they were really glad to see strangers in their little town. leaving the greek quarter, we came to a broad, open space, with a few groups of cypress scattered about--the turkish burial-ground, chosen with much taste, as is usually the case with turkish cemeteries. placed on the narrowest part of the isthmus that unites the promontory to the mainland, it commands lovely views over both bays. we crossed a shaky draw-bridge, and, passing under an old mouldering gateway, found ourselves in the turkish town--in the real region of true believers--not modern turks, such as are now mostly seen in constantinople, in frank dresses and polished boots, but amongst grave, old-fashioned moslems, arrayed in the flowing robes and large decorous turbans of days gone by. the women, not nominally veiled in transparent and becoming clouds of muslin, but closely wrapped in sheets of such uncompromising calico that not even the tip of a nose could be seen, glided about like spectres, occasionally stopping under the shadow of a wall, to peep curiously at the unwonted spectacle of christian women passing through their streets. finding ourselves in such an assemblage of "the faithful," i became suddenly conscience-stricken on account of my cambric morning gown, which was really very pretty, but unhappily of a delicate green!! we could not but see the angry glances cast on the objectionable shade, so, although the evening was very oppressive, i hastened to hide myself as much as possible under the folds of a large shawl, doing my best, therefore, to prevent the scandal of the sacred colour being seen on an unbelieving "giaour." dried fish and tobacco seemed the staple commodities of the place, and in spite of the exceeding cleanliness both of houses and people, they cause an ancient and fish-like odour to linger in the streets. leaving the town by a gate opposite to that by which we had entered, we found ourselves on the sea-shore. the big waves came tumbling in on the beach in great angry masses, and as they poured back again with a sullen roar, the old walls of the town seemed to quiver to their foundations, as if many more high tides and stormy seas would speedily lay them low. but old and tottering as they appear, they have for nearly three centuries resisted the efforts of their enemy, and the waves, by their own violence, have helped to make a little sand-bank that now seems to protect the ancient walls from their too near approach. the air was heavy and oppressive, giving that sensation of nervous foreboding that so often precedes physical or mental trouble. a long line of lurid clouds showed where the sun had gone down with angry redness, and some very dark streaks on the grey waters at the horizon seemed to say that to-morrow's rising would be as stormy as to-night's farewell. the austrian consul tells us that for some years the storm of the year has always taken place during the last week in september, the 26th being an especially fatal day. that luckless period is now over, so we venture to hope that the muttering tempest may but be moving on its way to other seas. though the short twilight was scarcely over as we again crossed the greek quarter, not a soul was to be seen--not a light glimmered at a window; every street was silent and deserted. after the customary dance the people of sinope, like the birds, go to bed with the sun, and a feeling came over us as if we were guilty of some degree of fastness, almost of dissipation, in not also being at home and in bed, like other respectable people, though it was little past eight o'clock. a few hours later the storm burst forth in good earnest, and raged all night with great fury. towards morning the wind somewhat suddenly went down, but a tremendous sea was running beyond the roadstead. three large steamers put in soon after dawn. one of them close by us presents a really pitiable spectacle. there are between four and five hundred persians on board, and the deck is a scene of dirt and wretchedness such as would be difficult to find equalled. the persians will never separate from their luggage; they sit on their goods all day and sleep on them all night. during the heavy sea yesterday the waves washed completely over the vessel, drenching these miserable creatures as well as their goods. from the deck being so encumbered the water could not escape, and these wretched people were lying for hours as in a bath, and in a frightful state of prostration and suffering, the combined effects of terror and sea-sickness. some of them are now trying to dry their rags in the occasional gleams of sunshine, and the ship is covered with sheep-skins, bits of old shawls, carpets, and the complicated articles of clothing only known to eastern toilettes. as we wished to see the country, the governor kindly lent us horses, and, accompanied by the austrian consul, we set out in the afternoon for a ride. to do us still more honour, the pasha had also sent two of his body-guard to attend us. more villainous-looking individuals it would have been difficult to find anywhere. our conviction was that they must have been, even if, as we hoped, they no longer were, part of a robber-band. in that case they would prove far more efficient protectors than any regular soldiers could be, as in all probability they kept up friendly intercourse with their old companions. edmond about, in that witty and entertaining work, "la grèce contemporaine," gives one of his most amusing and clever descriptions, when he represents the brigands and soldiers as being on such friendly terms with each other that they take turns in claiming the victory in the occasional little encounters that from time to time take place, in order to keep up appearances, amicably dividing the spoil when the affair is over. after paying a visit to the consul's wife, a pretty little venetian, with two bright-eyed children, we mounted our horses, and passing through the greek suburb, descended the hill and turned towards the mainland. soon after leaving the town, the country becomes barren, though the soil itself seems rich, and would probably be exceedingly fertile if well cultivated. here and there were a few patches of corn, but tobacco is the principal crop. great bunches of the fragrant leaves were hanging up to dry, suspended from poles in the middle of the fields. the tobacco grown near the coast is considered remarkably good, so we resolved to make some purchases for the benefit of smoking friends at home, and bought a quantity of the very best the district could produce for five piastres an oke. as there are eight piastres in a shilling, and as an oke contains about two and a half english pounds, it is hardly necessary to say how cheap this was. the same tobacco costs in constantinople from 70 to 100 piastres an oke. under these circumstances it seems wonderful that a regular trade should not be established, but such is the inertness of the inhabitants that there is no direct communication either with the capital or with odessa, only an occasional trader from time to time putting in here. there are no roads from the town into the interior; only sufficient tobacco, therefore, is grown to supply the neighbouring villages. the country is undulating, and, cantering up a little slope, we found ourselves on the summit of the cliffs that project into the western bay. on three sides was the sea, on the fourth the magnificent chain of mountains that run from the coast far into the interior of asia minor. the day was wild and stormy; the sea broke with a deep, hollow roar amongst the caverns of the rocks. every now and then fierce gusts of wind drove the clouds madly across the sky, but over the mountains there lay a broad band of sunshine, lighting up the little upland pastures, and making the patches of bright green still more vivid in contrast with the dark shadow of the forests at their feet. riding along the cliffs we obtained an excellent view of the singular position of sinope. built on a narrow strip of land, scarcely a quarter of a mile broad, it commands the two bays, and overlooks for many miles the undulating plain that stretches from the coast to the foot of the mountains. in old times, when the town was fortified, it must have been impregnable, both from sea and land; now the old castellated walls are little more than ruins. one portion, the remains of an ancient tower, said to have been part of the palace of mithridates, is remarkably picturesque. the leafy branches of briers and hops now trail across its old brickwork, and the tendrils of the wild caper have clasped in tight embrace many a column and mass of sculptured marble that lies lowly on the ground. ever since we have been here, notwithstanding the kind assistance of both pasha and consul, we have had the greatest difficulty in procuring meat, bread, or milk. we were surprised therefore to see outside the town patches of grass that would have afforded excellent pasturage both for sheep and cattle. but it seems, in respect of cow government, sinope is a republic, every cow doing as seemeth good to herself. she goes out in the morning when she likes, if in the evening it is borne on her mind that she would like to be milked, she comes home, but should her maternal feelings be weak, or should she wish to call upon her friends at a distance, she does not return for a day or two. under these circumstances the supply of milk is precarious, and as to the bread, it is of the most primitive description. a coarse, dark-brown, nearly black meal is made into a paste by mixing it with a little water. it is then rolled into thin sheets about the size of a small round tea-table, and baked. when quite fresh this bread is not unpalatable, though fearfully indigestible, but the great drawback is that it is apt to get mouldy on the smallest provocation, and after it has been made a few days requires scraping and rebaking before it is possible to eat it. then, as to the butchers' meat, that is also a vain dream. there is a tradition that once there was a butcher's shop in the town, but this was in a time so long ago that even the oldest inhabitant does not remember it. however, we are told that perhaps some day we may get a wild boar, so we cheer ourselves with this hope, and try to think the unvarying chickens are not so very thin nor so very tough, after all. chapter xvii. storm-clouds. after blowing another hurricane all night there is this morning a decided improvement in the weather. the wind has gone down nearly as suddenly as it rose, though the sea is still running very high. some of the old wooden houses towards the outskirts of the town, where they were more exposed to the violence of the storm, have suffered considerable damage, and two have literally been blown down. happily, the inhabitants were able to escape in time, and no lives have been lost. as i was anxious to make some sketches before being prevented by our own departure, or by some of the prettiest houses tumbling into ruins, we went early on shore on a drawing expedition; but amongst so many picturesque spots, it was quite an embarras de richesses to know where to begin. at last i set to work upon a narrow street with dark-brown houses, whose overhanging eaves almost touched their opposite neighbours. how i longed to have the skill of a really good artist, especially to draw one low projecting window which the leafy branches of a vine had formed into a little arch. a stray sunbeam was gleaming brightly on two fair young faces as they peeped shyly at the strangers through the framework of the tender green leaves. it was difficult to decide which shone brightest in the dark street, the bright eyes or the bright sunshine. with this charming exception the place had seemed deserted when the sketch began, but after a few strokes had been made sundry little groups appeared at the doors, and emboldened by our pretending to take no notice, they gradually approached. some of the older women ventured at last to look over my shoulder to see what i was about, and, when house after house appeared on the paper, their delight could no longer be controlled, and they eagerly called the owners to see the wonderful production. having accomplished the houses as well as i could, i wanted some figures to complete the little picture, and tried to sketch in as rapidly as possible a group of pretty girls who stood near. but this was going too far, and was too great a tax on their courage. they fled instantly; for so great is their dread of the evil eye that they, no doubt, felt persuaded that, were they to allow their likeness to be taken by a stranger, it would entail certain misery upon them. in southern countries one must carefully avoid noticing young people too much, and must especially beware of praising little children. a mother would think it most cruel kindness, as it would be directly casting the jettatura upon her child. in many parts of calabria (the stronghold of this superstition) it does not do for a friend, if a foreigner, to say a word even in favour of that generally-praised member of the family, the baby. like the women of a turkish harem, the children of a christian household are too sacred to be mentioned. although they ran away, i was glad to find my sinope friends were not irrevocably offended, for they turned up again when i began the next sketch. they gathered close round, evidently much interested in me and my doings, but though there was so much interest, there was not the least rudeness. it is to be feared that a strange artist, in a foreign costume, would not meet with such good-natured forbearance in an english village. i was examined critically, however, and i could understand enough of what they were saying to know they were remarking upon my nose, eyes, mouth, hair, dress, &c. they were evidently much puzzled as to the use of the little hood belonging to my cloak, lifting it up, and making numerous interrogative signs; at last they arrived, i am certain, at the conclusion that it served to carry bread or babies in. when the drawing was finished, a nice, fresh-looking old woman, a greater person probably than all the rest, as she wore some very large coins round her neck, came out of the crowd, seized my hand, kissed it several times, and then, tucking it tightly under her arm and pointing to the public baths close by, tried to pull me towards them. whether she wished me to sketch them, or whether, in the excess of her good-will, she wished to present me to the rest of "the world of sinope" (for in these parts the bath is the women's club, where they meet to drink coffee and sherbet, and talk over each other's affairs), must for ever remain a mystery, for though we both talked, we neither understood. she bowed persuasively, i bowed negatively, and clung tightly to my companion, for i was really afraid, from the excess of kind friendship, of being carried off against my will. at length, finding i was not to be moved either morally or physically, she again repeatedly kissed my hand, and with many smiles and friendly looks we parted. we then strolled on as far as the turkish burial-ground, enjoying the bright sunshine and the fresh air, for though so rough and stormy at sea, on shore it was very pleasant. beyond the cemetery is an open common that extends to the edge of the cliffs that line the bay opposite to that where the yacht is lying. out at sea everything looked wild and desolate. great leaden-coloured waves were beating in angry foam against the rocks; not a sail was to be seen; a few gulls were slowly flapping across the dreary waste of water, their hoarse cries sounding as if they too were uttering harsh warnings of coming disasters and death. but what a curious contrast as we turned from so eerie a scene and looked towards the town! on this side the sun was shining brightly, the birds were singing in the bushes close by, whilst several groups of turkish women, seated under the cypress trees near the cemetery, made the scene gay with their many-coloured ferighies. turning inland, the day was so warm that we were glad to sit down on an old wall under the shade of a leafy fig-tree, though, when facing the sea, the keen, sharp wind had made us draw our cloaks closely round us. such is essentially the climate of sinope, summer and winter at the same time. no wonder, therefore, that the scourge of the place is consumption. the consul tells us that spring and autumn are nearly nominal seasons. the hot days of summer send the snow away, and when they again begin to decline rain and winter come together. the sun rules the temperature completely; when he shines the days are hot, even in mid-winter, and again in summer, should he withdraw his rays, and leave the sky gloomy and cloud-covered, there is a sudden chill in the air that is far more injurious to health than the actual cold of winter. it was not until the 2nd of october that the weather cleared sufficiently to enable us to leave sinope. then, however, all promised well for a prosperous voyage. with a clear, blue sky, calm sea, and a fairly favourable breeze we set sail for the bosphorus. for twenty-four hours the yacht dashed gaily along; and we were all merry with the anticipation of being speedily with our friends at therapia, when a sudden change came over the sunny prospect. a little cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, was seen to windward. though the sky was still blue, the sea calm, and the sun shining brightly, the glass went down with alarming rapidity. suddenly the wind began to moan with a wild melancholy wail, a great darkness rapidly spread over sea and sky, except along the horizon; there a pallid streak of light showed where the storm was stalking on, lashing the sea into a perfect whirl of foam as it tore its way over the water. on came the squall with wondrous quickness. there was nothing to be done but to make the best of our way back to sinope bay, as it was evident that ugly weather was again threatening. in less than an hour from the time when the little cloud had been first perceived the yacht was running before a heavy sea with scarcely a bit of canvas on her, but before night we rounded the promontory off sinope, and were at once in smooth water. instead of returning, however, to our old anchorage, we put in to ghirgeh, a little town on the other side of the bay, where, it was said, excellent shooting and good provisions were to be had. unluckily, landing is a work of difficulty should there be any sea, or even swell, for there is a reef of rocks close to the shore that can only be crossed in tolerably smooth water. the storm was not of long duration, though it was fierce while it lasted. it raged all night with much violence, but the following morning all things again looked propitious. the breeze, though it blew rather fresh, was fair for the bosphorus; we were getting impatient at so much delay. we might have remained days at ghirgeh without being able to land, for with the wind from this quarter the surf beat heavily on the reef, and the boat that had been sent on shore in search of provisions had returned half full of water, with the men drenched to the skin. game and meat were also found to be "myths," and as the people on shore declared the gale was now well over, once again we set sail for constantinople. "those who go down to the sea in ships, these men see the works of the lord, and his wonders in the great deep." we thank him who stills the raging sea, that in his mercy he has guarded us through so fearful a tempest. we had left ghirgeh on tuesday. late on wednesday afternoon once more the warning glass fell rapidly, and the breeze that had been fresh and steady suddenly dropped. towards evening we were almost becalmed, little puffs of hot air only occasionally fanning us as the yacht rose slowly on the heaving sea. but about one o'clock that night, the gale came upon us with all its force, preceded by an icy wind that seemed to freeze the ropes into bits of iron. no sooner was the roar of the mighty tempest heard across the waters than the sea, lashed into madness by the tremendous force of the wind, turned into a seething cauldron. in an instant the great waves rose up foaming, and tossed and dashed against the poor little vessel as if resolved on its destruction. as the storm raged across her the dear claymore heeled over, and quivered as if she had received a blow, but righting herself immediately, she gallantly faced her foe and prepared for another shock. speedily it came--and again another, and another. more and more furious became the wind, and though the foresail had been reefed, and we had only the storm-jib, it was necessary to furl them both and take in the jib-boom; but in vain the men pulled and strained, the ropes were frozen. servants, cooks, every man on board was summoned, mr. harvey, captain martini, and charlie cheering on the men, as they too sprang forward to the ropes; but crash after crash came the great waves, as they raged against the yacht with a fury that it seemed almost impossible anything of wood and iron could long withstand. at length charlie and another man, with their knives between their teeth, crawled on to the bowsprit, though every plunge buried them deep in the waves, and succeeded in severing the ropes that held the sail. relieved from the too great pressure, the little vessel rose more easily, and we heard a voice say cheerfully, "we shall do now." it was of course impossible to be on deck, but my sister, mademoiselle g., and i remained crouched on the staircase listening in intense anxiety to the turmoil. when the sail was at last taken in i went down to the children, fearing they would be frightened, but the little creatures had gone to sleep before the gale began, and neither storm nor wind awakened them. it was difficult to stay by them. exaggerating probably the danger we were in, their lovely, quiet sleep quite unnerved one; so, as it was better to do rather than to think, we busied ourselves as much as possible in making hot tea for those on deck, though even this little task was a work of difficulty, so violently were we thrown from side to side. occasionally during the night one of us crept up the companion and ventured a hurried look-out. people have written much about the majestic beauty of a storm. to me it was simply horrible. in the distracting rush and confusion, it seemed as if the elements, seized with hideous rage, were tearing and rending each other like infuriated animals. i looked on with the shuddering horror one would feel if standing between wild beasts who were preparing to spring at each other's throats. when holding fast by the sides of the companion i ventured a hurried glance upwards. my heart seemed for a moment to stand still, as i saw a huge black mass, rather than a wave of water, towering high above us. so monstrous, so steep did it seem, that until one felt the vessel rising, it seemed impossible that anything framed by man could surmount so precipitous a wall. piles of foam rose still higher in the air, which was filled with a pale, ghastly light when the moon showed herself occasionally between the great heavy banks of clouds, as if afraid to look fully forth on such a weird scene of chaos and confusion. but worse even than the sight was the overpowering noise--the uproar. instead of diminishing as day began to dawn the rush and the roar deepened, until the senses seemed carried away by the mighty clamour, and the brain seemed to whirl, as if it also was the sport of the tremendous wind. everything was crashing, first on one side, then on the other. in the midst of this wild turmoil a deep unearthly sound rang through the vessel--the slow, heavy toll of a bell that seemed to come from beneath the sea. for a moment our crew, all italians, but as brave a set of men as ever trod a deck, seemed paralyzed. again the warning sound pealed forth; several fell on their knees on receiving as they believed so direct an intimation of our fate. mr. harvey and the captain rushed below, for it was absolutely necessary to ascertain the cause. happily in their anxious search the ominous sound was again heard as they passed through the galley. two very large copper pans had got loose, and when the vessel rolled heavily one way, they struck against each other, and the blow produced the solemn clang that had appeared so terrific. fortunately, therefore, the dark omen became a cause of merriment to our superstitious but light-hearted sailors. many a ghost-story, probably, has quite as prosaic an origin. before the gale began the evening had been oppressively warm; my window on deck had, therefore, been opened. in the hurry and confusion that ensued when the squall came on, it had been closed, but not securely fastened, and i was suddenly and most disagreeably reminded of the omission. quite worn out with fatigue and anxiety, i had gone to my cabin to lie down for half an hour, when the yacht made an unusually heavy plunge, and the window burst open, just as a cataract of spray and water poured over the deck. down came a torrent into my cabin, destroying in a minute all the freshness and coquetry of the pretty lace curtains and pink ribbons, and giving me and all my belongings a thorough bath. a more unpleasant sensation can scarcely be imagined, though a few months' yachting gives one a miserable equanimity about spoiling clothes. sometimes when a very favourite garment is found covered with a verdant coating of green mould, a few indignant remarks are made upon sea-damp; but, generally speaking, any little spirit on the subject, any little vanity is early crushed, and one remains calm in mind and shabby in person to the end of the voyage. towards mid-day on thursday the gale broke a little, that is to say, there were longer intervals between the squalls, but it was an anxious time, for we were off cape karempi, and the most dangerous part of the black sea navigation lies between this point and cape aia on the northern coast. nearly half the wrecks take place near this cape. the currents are numerous and very strong, and for more than a hundred miles not a harbour nor place of refuge is to be found. alas! for the luckless vessel which may be driven too near these cruel rocks! little hope for her in a northerly gale, should this iron-bound coast, with its miles of foaming breakers, come in sight. many were the anxious inquiries we made as to our position with reference to this dreaded cape. happily, we had every reason to believe that we were well out to sea, and the vessel now lay-to, without shipping a drop of water. although worn out with fatigue, it was impossible to sleep all thursday night, so tremendous was the rolling. we were quite black and blue from the bruises we had in consequence of being so tossed from side to side in our cots. on friday morning both sea and wind became more moderate, and for many hours we slept the sound sleep of the tired. in the afternoon we bethought ourselves of our unfortunate menagerie, and went to see how the poor creatures had fared during the storm. the unlucky geese had been the greatest sufferers. little they thought when they left the peaceful farmyard at karani of what was in store for them. the water had been so constantly over the fore part of the vessel, and the cold had been so great, that the men had good-naturedly taken the poor things to the forecastle. one luckless goose, however, either from fright or from having imprudently committed a slight excess in drinking half a bottle of turpentine, had been seized with fits, and remained in an alarming state for many hours. we were much grieved, thinking her last moment had come, for she was lying on her back, feebly kicking in a deplorable fashion, when, with a supreme effort, she dragged herself into the coal-hole, and convulsively began to swallow some bits of coal. we left in sadness, thinking this could only be the last expiring struggle; but an hour later we received a bulletin to say the patient was not only alive, but better, and in the evening she was pronounced convalescent, her remedy having proved most effectual. however, between the fits and the coals, our friend presents a lamentable spectacle: the fits have caused her wings to twist inside out, and the coals have given her such a sooty tinge, that not a trace remains of her once beautiful snowy plumage. we hear that many a candle has been vowed by the men to their favourite shrines. they have behaved admirably; but few of them had ever been in the black sea, and none had seen a storm there before. even the imperturbable charlie says he has never known an "uglier" gale. the crew's admiration of the behaviour of the claymore is quite unbounded; they cannot praise her enough. she has certainly weathered the storm gallantly, and has come gloriously out of the combat, without having sustained any injury to speak of--only a rope or two gone and a block broken. on saturday morning we were safely anchored off the water gate in sevastopol harbour, and remained there a few days to recruit our somewhat exhausted strength. each day brought sad accounts of the numerous wrecks that had taken place in this storm, the most severe that has been known for years. amongst other catastrophes, it gave us a great shock to hear of the total loss of the persian emigrant steamer that we had seen at sinope. she went down very suddenly early on thursday morning. a mate and three seamen clung to a spar, were picked up, and brought to kamiesch. every other soul on board perished. the men say the vessel was leaky and overladen. it was frightful to think that all those poor creatures we had seen only a few days ago had met with so terrible an end. the papers are full of the disasters that have taken place. before entering the bosphorus we met the english man-of-war kindly sent by our friends at constantinople in search of us, for our lengthened absence and the tremendous gale had alarmed them for our safety. the next day we were at therapia, perfectly happy, not only in the rest of so charming a haven, but in being once more with most dear and valued friends. the end. bradbury, evans, and co., printers, whitefriars. note [1] apartments belonging to the men. university libraries., marilynda fraser-cunliffe, sankar viswanathan, and distributed proofreaders europe at http://dp.rastko.net servia, youngest member of the european family: or, a residence in belgrade, and travels in the highlands and woodlands of the interior, during the years 1843 and 1844. by andrew archibald paton, esq. author of "the modern syrians." "les hommes croient en general connaitre suffisamment l'empire ottoman pour peu qu'ils aient lu l'enorme compilation que le savant m. de hammer a publiee ... mais en dehors de ce mouvement central il y a la vie interieure de province, dont le tableau tout entier reste a faire." london: longman, brown, green, and longmans, paternoster row. 1845. preface. the narrative and descriptive portion of this work speaks for itself. in the historical part i have consulted with advantage von engel's "history of servia," ranke's "servian revolution," possart's "servia," and ami boue's "turquie d'europe," but took the precaution of submitting the facts selected to the censorship of those on the spot best able to test their accuracy. for this service, i owe a debt of acknowledgment to m. hadschitch, the framer of the servian code; m. marinovitch, secretary of the senate; and professor john shafarik, whose lectures on slaavic history, literature, and antiquities, have obtained unanimous applause. contents. chapter 1. leave beyrout.--camp afloat.-rhodes.--the shores of the mediterranean suitable for the cultivation of the arts.--a moslem of the new school.--american presbyterian clergyman.--a mexican senator.--a sermon for sailors.--smyrna.--buyukdere.--sir stratford canning.--embark for bulgaria. chapter ii. varna.--contrast of northern and southern provinces of turkey.--roustchouk.--conversation with deftendar.--the danube.--a bulgarian interior.--a dandy of the lower danube.--depart for widdin. chapter iii. river steaming.--arrival at widdin.--jew.--comfortless khan.--wretched appearance of widdin.--hussein pasha.--m. petronievitch.--steam balloon. chapter iv. leave widdin.--the timok.--enter servia.--brza palanka.--the iron gates.--old and new orsova.--wallachian matron.--semlin.--a conversation on language. chapter v. description of belgrade.--fortifications.--street and street population.--cathedral.--large square.--coffee-house.--deserted villa.--baths. chapter vi. europeanization of belgrade.--lighting and paving.--interior of the fortress.--turkish pasha.--turkish quarter.--turkish population.--panorama of belgrade.--dinner party given by the prince. chapter vii. return to servia.--the danube.--semlin.--wucics and petronievitch.--cathedral solemnity.--subscription ball. chapter viii. holman, the blind traveller.--milutinovich, the poet.--bulgarian legend.--tableau de genre.--departure for the interior. chapter ix. journey to shabatz.--resemblance of manners to those of the middle ages.--palesh.--a servian bride.--blind minstrel.--gipsies.--macadamized roads. chapter x. shabatz.--a provincial chancery.--servian collector.--description of his house.--country barber.--turkish quarter.--self-taught priest.--a provincial dinner.--native soiree. chapter xi. kaimak.--history of a renegade.--a bishop's house.--progress of education.--portrait of milosh.--bosnia and the bosnians.--moslem fanaticism.--death of the collector. chapter xii. the banat of matchva.--losnitza.--feuds on the frontier.--enter the back-woods.--convent of tronosha.--greek festival.--congregation of peasantry.--rustic finery. chapter xiii. romantic sylvan scenery.--patriarchal simplicity of manners.--krupena.--sokol.--its extraordinary position.--wretched town.--alpine scenery.--cool reception.--valley of the rogatschitza. chapter xiv. the drina.--liubovia.--quarantine station.--derlatcha.--a servian beauty.--a lunatic priest.--sorry quarters.--murder by brigands. chapter xv. arrival at ushitza.--wretched street.--excellent khan.--turkish vayvode.--a persian dervish.--relations of moslems and christians.--visit the castle.--bird's eye view. chapter xvi. poshega.--the river morava.--arrival at csatsak.--a viennese doctor.--project to ascend the kopaunik.--visit the bishop.--ancient cathedral church.--greek mass.--karanovatz.--emigrant priest.--albanian disorders.--salt mines. chapter xvii. coronation church of the ancient kings of servia.--enter the highlands.--valley of the ybar.--first view of the high balkan.--convent of studenitza.--byzantine architecture.--phlegmatic monk.--servian frontier.--new quarantine.--russian major. chapter xviii. cross the bosniac frontier.--gipsy encampment.--novibazar described.--rough reception.--precipitate departure.--fanaticism. chapter xix. ascent of the kopaunik.--grand prospect.--descent of the kopaunik.--bruss.--involuntary bigamy.--conversation on the servian character.--krushevatz.--relics of monarchy. chapter xx. formation of the servian monarchy.--contest between the latin and greek churches.--stephen dushan.--a great warrior.--results of his victories.--kucs lasar.--invasion of amurath.--battle of kossovo.--death of lasar and amurath.--fall of the servian monarchy.--general observations. chapter xxi. a battue missed.--proceed to alexinatz.--foreign-office courier.--bulgarian frontier.--gipsy suregee.--tiupria.--new bridge and macadamized roads. chapter xxii. visit to ravanitza.--jovial party.--servian and austrian jurisdiction.--convent described.--eagles reversed.--bulgarian festivities. chapter xxiii. manasia.--has preserved its middle-age character.--robinson crusoe.--wonderful echo.--kindness of the people.--svilainitza.--posharevatz.--baby giantess. chapter xxiv. rich soil.--mysterious waters.--treaty of passarovitz.--the castle of semendria.--relics of the antique.--the brankovitch family.--panesova.--morrison's pills. chapter xxv. personal appearance of the servians.--their moral character.--peculiarity of manners.--christmas festivities.--easter.--the dodola. chapter xxvi. town life.--the public offices.--manners half-oriental half-european.--merchants and tradesmen.--turkish population.--porters.--barbers.--cafes.--public writer. chapter xxvii. poetry.--journalism.--the fine arts.--the lyceum.--mineralogical cabinet.--museum.--servian education. chapter xxviii. preparations for departure.--impressions of the east.--prince alexander.--the palace.--kara georg. chapter xxix. a memoir of kara georg. chapter xxx. milosh obrenovitch. chapter xxxi. the prince.--the government.--the senate.--the minister for foreign affairs.--the minister of the interior.--courts of justice.--finances. chapter xxxii. agriculture and commerce. chapter xxxiii. the foreign agents. chapter xxxiv. vienna in 1844. improvements in vienna.--palladian style.--music.--theatres.--sir robert gordon.--prince metternich.--armen ball.--dancing.--strauss.--austrian policy. chapter xxxv. concluding observations on austria and her prospects. servia. chapter i. leave beyrout.--camp afloat.--rhodes.--the shores of the mediterranean suitable for the cultivation of the arts.--a moslem of the new school.--american presbyterian clergyman.--a mexican senator.--a sermon for sailors.--smyrna.--buyukdere.--sir stratford canning.--embark for bulgaria. i have been four years in the east, and feel that i have had quite enough of it for the present. notwithstanding the azure skies, bubbling fountains, mosaic pavements, and fragrant _narghiles_, i begin to feel symptoms of ennui, and a thirst for european life, sharp air, and a good appetite, a blazing fire, well-lighted rooms, female society, good music, and the piquant vaudevilles of my ancient friends, scribe, bayard, and melesville. at length i stand on the pier of beyrout, while my luggage is being embarked for the austrian steamer lying in the roads, which, in the levantine slang, has lighted her chibouque, and is polluting yon white promontory, clear cut in the azure horizon, with a thick black cloud of wallsend. i bade a hurried adieu to my friends, and went on board. the quarter-deck, which retained its awning day and night, was divided into two compartments, one of which was reserved for the promenade of the cabin passengers, the other for the bivouac of the turks, who retained their camp habits with amusing minuteness, making the larboard quarter a vast tent afloat, with its rolled up beds, quilts, counterpanes, washing gear, and all sorts of water-cans, coffee-pots, and chibouques, with stores of bread, cheese, fruit, and other provisions for the voyage. in the east, a family cannot move without its household paraphernalia, but then it requires a slight addition of furniture and utensils to settle for years in a strange place. the settlement of a european family requires a thousand et ceteras and months of installation, but then it is set in motion for the new world with a few portmanteaus and travelling bags. two days and a half of steaming brought us to rhodes. an enchanter has waved his wand! in reading of the wondrous world of the ancients, one feels a desire to get a peep at rome before its destruction by barbarian hordes. a leap backwards of half this period is what one seems to make at rhodes, a perfectly preserved city and fortress of the middle ages. here has been none of the vandalism of vauban, cohorn, and those mechanical-pated fellows, who, with their dutch dyke-looking parapets, made such havoc of donjons and picturesque turrets in europe. here is every variety of mediaeval battlement; so perfect is the illusion, that one wonders the waiter's horn should be mute, and the walls devoid of bowman, knight, and squire. two more delightful days of steaming among the greek islands now followed. the heat was moderate, the motion gentle, the sea was liquid lapis lazuli, and the hundred-tinted islets around us, wrought their accustomed spell. surely there is something in climate which creates permanent abodes of art! the mediterranean, with its hydrographical configuration, excluding from its great peninsulas the extremes of heat and cold, seems destined to nourish the most exquisite sentiment of the beautiful. those brilliant or softly graduated tints invite the palette, and the cultivation of the graces of the mind, shining with its aesthetic ray through lineaments thorough-bred from generation to generation, invites the sculptor to transfer to marble, grace of contour and elevation of expression. but let us not envy the balmy south. the germanic or northern element, if less susceptible of the beautiful is more masculine, better balanced, less in extremes. it was this element that struck down the roman empire, that peoples america and australia, and rules india; that exhausted worlds, and then created new. the most prominent individual of the native division of passengers, was arif effendi, a pious moslem of the new school, who had a great horror of brandy; first, because it was made from wine; and secondly, because his own favourite beverage was jamaica rum; for, as peter parley says, "of late years, many improvements have taken place among the mussulmans, who show a disposition to adopt the best things of their more enlightened neighbours." we had a great deal of conversation during the voyage, for he professed to have a great admiration of england, and a great dislike of france; probably all owing to the fact of rum coming from jamaica, and brandy and wine from cognac and bordeaux. another individual was a still richer character: an american presbyterian clergyman, with furi-bond dilated nostril and a terrific frown. "you must lose canada," said he to me one day, abruptly, "ay, and bermuda into the bargain." "i think you had better round off your acquisitions with a few odd west india islands." "we have stomach enough for that too." "i hear you have been to jerusalem." "yes; i went to recover my voice, which i lost; for i have one of the largest congregations in boston." "but, my good friend, you breathe nothing but war and conquest." "the fact is, war is as unavoidable as thunder and lightning; the atmosphere must be cleared from time to time." "were you ever a soldier?" "no; i was in the american navy. many a day i was after john bull on the shores of newfoundland." "after john bull?" "yes, sir, _sweating_ after him: i delight in energy; give me the man who will shoulder a millstone, if need be." "the capture of canada, bermuda, and a few odd west india islands, would certainly give scope for your energy. this would be taking the bull by the horns." "swinging him by the tail, say i." the burlesque vigour of his illustrations sometimes ran to anti-climax. one day, he talked of something (if i recollect right, the electric telegraph), moving with the rapidity of a flash of lightning, with a pair of spurs clapped into it. in spite of all this ultra-national bluster, we found him to be a very good sort of man, having nothing of the bear but the skin, and in the test of the quarantine arrangements, the least selfish of the party. another passenger was an elderly mexican senator, who was the essence of politeness of the good old school. every morning he stood smiling, hat in hand, while he inquired how each of us had slept. i shall never forget the cholera-like contortion of horror he displayed, when the clerical militant (poking his fun at him), declared that texas was within the natural boundary of the state, and that some morning they would make a breakfast of the whole question. one day he passed from politics to religion. "i am fond of fun," said he, "i think it is the sign of a clear conscience. my life has been spent among sailors. i have begun with many a blue jacket hail-fellow-well-met in my own rough way, and have ended in weaning him from wicked courses. none of your gloomy religion for me. when i see a man whose religion makes him melancholy, and averse from gaiety, i tell him his god must be my devil." the originality of this gentleman's intellect and manners, led me subsequently to make further inquiry; and i find one of his sermons reported by a recent traveller, who, after stating that his oratory made a deep impression on the congregation of the sailors' chapel in boston, who sat with their eyes, ears, and mouths open, as if spell-bound in listening to him, thus continues: "he describes a ship at sea, bound for the port of heaven, when the man at the head sung out, 'rocks ahead!' 'port the helm,' cried the mate. 'ay, ay, sir,' was the answer; the ship obeyed, and stood upon a tack. but in two minutes more, the lead indicated a shoal. the man on the out-look sung out, 'sandbreaks and breakers ahead!' the captain was now called, and the mate gave his opinion; but sail where they could, the lead and the eye showed nothing but dangers all around,--sand banks, coral reefs, sunken rocks, and dangerous coasts. the chart showed them clearly enough where the port of heaven lay; there was no doubt about its latitude and longitude: but they all sung out, that it was impossible to reach it; there was no fair way to get to it. my friends, it was the devil who blew up that sand-bank, and sunk those rocks, and set the coral insects to work; his object was to prevent that ship from ever getting to heaven, to wreck it on its way, and to make prize of the whole crew for slaves for ever. but just as every soul was seized with consternation, and almost in despair, a tight little schooner hove in sight; she was cruizing about, with one jesus, a pilot, on board. the captain hailed him, and he answered that he knew a fair way to the port in question. he pointed out to them an opening in the rocks, which the largest ship might beat through, with a channel so deep, that the lead could never reach to the bottom, and the passage was land-locked the whole way, so that the wind might veer round to every point in the compass, and blow hurricanes from them all, and yet it could never raise a dangerous sea in that channel. what did the crew of that distressed ship do, when jesus showed them his chart, and gave them all the bearings? they laughed at him, and threw his chart back in his face. he find a channel where they could not! impossible; and on they sailed in their own course, and everyone of them perished." at smyrna, i signalized my return to the land of the franks, by ordering a beef-steak, and a bottle of porter, and bespeaking the paper from a gentleman in drab leggings, who had come from manchester to look after the affairs of a commercial house, in which he or his employers were involved. he wondered that a hotel in the ottoman empire should be so unlike one in europe, and asked me, "if the inns down in the country were as good as this." as for constantinople, i refer all readers to the industry and accuracy of mr. white, who might justly have terminated his volumes with the oriental epistolary phrase, "what more can i write?" mr. white is not a mere sentence balancer, but belongs to the guild of bona fide oriental travellers. in summer, all pera is on the bosphorus: so i jumped into a caique, and rowed up to buyukdere. on the threshold of the villa of the british embassy, i met a----, the prince of attaches, who led me to a beautiful little kiosk, on the extremity of a garden, and there installed me in his fairy abode of four small rooms, which embraced a view like that of isola bella on lake maggiore; here books, the piano, the _narghile_, and the parterre of flowers, relieved the drudgery of his eastern diplomacy. lord n----, mr. h----, and mr. t----, the other attaches, lived in a house at the other end of the garden. i here spent a week of delightful repose. the mornings were occupied _ad libitum_, the gentlemen of the embassy being overwhelmed with business. at four o'clock dinner was usually served in the airy vestibule of the embassy villa, and with the occasional accession of other members of the diplomatic corps we usually formed a large party. a couple of hours before sunset a caique, which from its size might have been the galley of a doge, was in waiting, and lady c---sometimes took us to a favourite wooded hill or bower-grown creek in the paradise-like environs, while a small musical party in the evening terminated each day. one of the attaches of the russian embassy, m. f----, is the favorite dilettante of buyukdere; he has one of the finest voices i ever heard, and frequently reminded me of the easy humour and sonorous profundity of lablache. before embarking the reader on the black sea, i cannot forbear a single remark on the distinguished individual who has so long and so worthily represented great britain at the ottoman porte. sir. stratford canning is certainly unpopular with the extreme fanatical party, and with all those economists who are for killing the goose to get at the golden eggs; but the real interests of the turkish nation never had a firmer support. the chief difficulty in the case of this race is the impossibility of fusion with others. while they decrease in number, the rayahs increase in wealth, in numbers, and in intelligence. the russians are the orientals of europe, but st. petersburg is a german town, german industry corrects the old muscovite sloth and cunning. the immigrant strangers rise to the highest offices, for the crown employs them as a counterpoise on the old nobility; as burgher incorporations were used by the kings of three centuries ago. no similar process is possible with moslems: one course therefore remains open for those who wish to see the ottoman empire upheld; a strenuous insistance on the porte treating the rayah population with justice and moderation. the interests of humanity, and the real and true interests of the ottoman empire, are in this case identical. guided by this sound principle, which completely reconciles the policy of great britain with the highest maxims of political morality, sir. stratford canning has pursued his career with an all-sifting intelligence, a vigour of character and judgment, an indifference to temporary repulses, and a sacrifice of personal popularity, which has called forth the respect and involuntary admiration of parties the most opposed to his views. i embarked on board a steamer, skirted the western coast of the black sea, and landed on the following morning in varna. chapter ii. varna.--contrast of northern and southern provinces of turkey.--roustchouk.--conversation with deftendar.--the danube.--a bulgarian interior.--a dandy of the lower danube.--depart for widdin. all hail, bulgaria! no sooner had i secured my quarters and deposited my baggage, than i sought the main street, in order to catch the delightfully keen impression which a new region stamps on the mind. how different are the features of slaavic turkey, from those of the arabic provinces in which i so long resided. the flat roofs, the measured pace of the camel, the half-naked negro, the uncouth bedouin, the cloudless heavens, the tawny earth, and the meagre apology for turf, are exchanged for ricketty wooden houses with coarse tiling, laid in such a way as to eschew the monotony of straight lines; strings of primitive waggons drawn by buffaloes, and driven by bulgarians with black woolly caps, real genuine grass growing on the downs outside the walls, and a rattling blast from the black sea, more welcome than all the balmy spices of arabia, for it reminded me that i was once more in europe, and must befit my costume to her ruder airs. this was indeed the north of the balkan, and i must needs pull out my pea-jacket. how i relished those winds, waves, clouds, and grey skies! they reminded me of english nature and dutch art. the nore, the downs, the frith of forth, and sundry dormant backhuysens, re-awoke to my fancy. the moral interest too was different. in egypt or syria, where whole cycles of civilization lie entombed, we interrogate the past; here in bulgaria the past is nothing, and we vainly interrogate the future. the interior of varna has a very fair bazaar; not covered as in constantinople and other large towns, but well furnished. the private dwellings are generally miserable. the town suffered so severely in the russian war of 1828, that it has never recovered its former prosperity. it has also been twice nearly all burnt since then; so that, notwithstanding its historical, military, and commercial importance, it has at present little more than 20,000 inhabitants. the walls of the town underwent a thorough repair in the spring and summer of 1843. the majority of the inhabitants are turks, and even the native bulgarians here speak turkish better than their own language. one bulgarian here told me that he could not speak the national language. now in the west of bulgaria, on the borders of servia, the turks speak bulgarian better than turkish. from varna to roustchouk is three days' journey, the latter half of the road being agreeably diversified with wood, corn, and pasture; and many of the fields inclosed. just at sunset, i found myself on the ridge of the last undulation of the slope of bulgaria, and again greeted the ever-noble valley of the danube. roustchouk lay before me hitherward, and beyond the river, the rich flat lands of wallachia stretched away to the north. as i approached the town, i perceived it to be a fortress of vast extent; but as it is commanded from the heights from which i was descending, it appeared to want strength if approached from the south. the ramparts were built with great solidity, but rusty, old, dismounted cannon, obliterated embrasures, and palisades rotten from exposure to the weather, showed that to stand a siege it must undergo a considerable repair. the aspect of the place did not improve as we rumbled down the street, lined with houses one story high, and here and there a little mosque, with a shabby wooden minaret crowned with conical tin tops like the extinguishers of candles. i put up at the khan. my room was without furniture; but, being lately white-washed, and duly swept out under my own superintendence, and laid with the best mat in the khan, on which i placed my bed and carpets, the addition of a couple of rush-bottomed chairs and a deal table, made it habitable, which was all i desired, as i intended to stay only a few days. i was supplied with a most miserable dinner; and, to my horror, the stewed meat was sprinkled with cinnamon. the wine was bad, and the water still worse, for there are no springs at roustchouk, and they use danube water, filtered through a jar of a porous sandstone found in the neighbourhood. a jar of this kind stands in every house, but even when filtered in this way it is far from good. on hearing that the deftendar spoke english perfectly, and had long resided in england, i felt a curiosity to see him, and accordingly presented myself at the konak, and was shown to the divan of the deftendar. i pulled aside a pendent curtain, and entered a room of large dimensions, faded decorations, and a broad red divan, the cushions of which were considerably the worse for wear. such was the bureau of the deftendar effendi, who sat surrounded with papers, and the implements of writing. he was a man apparently of fifty-five years of age, slightly inclining to corpulence, with a very short neck, surmounted by large features, coarsely chiselled; but not devoid of a certain intelligence in his eye, and dignity in general effect. he spoke english with a correct accent, but slowly, occasionally stopping to remember a word; thus showing that his english was not imperfect from want of knowledge, but rusty from want of practice. he was an egyptian turk, and had been for eight years the commercial agent of mohammed ali at malta, and had, moreover, visited the principal countries of europe. i then took a series of short and rapid whiffs of my pipe while i bethought me of the best manner of treating the subject of my visit, and then said, "that few orientals could draw a distinction between politics and geography; but that with a man of his calibre and experience, i was safe from misinterpretation--that i was collecting the materials for a work on the danubian provinces, and that for any information which he might give me, consistently with the exigencies of his official position, i should feel much indebted, as i thought i was least likely to be misunderstood by stating clearly the object of my journey to the authorities, while information derived from the fountain-head was the most valuable." the deftendar, after commending my openness, said, "i suspect that you will find very little to remark in the pashalic of silistria. it is an agricultural country, and the majority of the inhabitants are turks. the rayahs are very peaceable, and pay very few taxes, considering the agricultural wealth of the country. you may rest assured that there is not a province of the ottoman empire, which is better governed than the pashalic of silistria. now and then, a rude turk appropriates to himself a bulgarian girl; but the government cannot be responsible for these individual excesses. we have no malcontents within the province; hut there are a few hetarist scoundrels at braila, who wish to disturb the tranquillity of bulgaria: but the wallachian government has taken measures to prevent them from carrying their projects into execution." after some further conversation, on indifferent topics, i took my leave. the succeeding days were devoted to a general reconnaissance of the place; but i must say that roustchouk, although capital of the pashalic of silistria, and containing thirty or forty thousand inhabitants, pleased me less than any town of its size that i had seen in the east. the streets are dirty and badly paved, without a single good bazaar or cafe to kill time in, or a single respectable edifice of any description to look at. the redeeming resource was the promenade on the banks of the danube, which has here attained almost its full volume, and uniting the waters of alp, carpathian, and balkan, rushes impatiently to the euxine. at length the day of departure came. the attendant had just removed the tumbler of coffee, tossing the fragments of toast into the court-yard, an operation which appeared to have a magnetic effect on the bills of the poultry; and then, with his accustomed impropriety, placed the plate as a basis to my hookah, telling me that f----, a bulgarian christian, wished to speak with me. "let him walk in," said i, as i took the first delightful whiff; and f----, darkening the window that looked out on the verandah, gave me a fugitive look of recognition, and then entering and making his salutation in a kindly hearty manner, asked me to eat my mid-day meal with him. "indeed," quoth i, "i accept your invitation. i have not gone to pay my visit to the bey, because i remain here too short a time to need his good offices; but i am anxious to make the acquaintance of the people,--so i am your guest." when the hour arrived, i adjusted the tassel of my fez, put on my great coat, and proceeded to the christian quarter; where, after various turnings and windings, i at length arrived at a high wooden gateway, new and unpainted. an uncouth tuning of fiddles, the odour of savoury fare, and a hearty laugh from within, told me that i had no further to go; for all these gates are so like each other, one never knows a house till after close observation. on entering i passed over a plat of grass, and piercing a wooden tenement by a dark passage, found myself in a three-sided court, where several persons were sitting on rush-bottomed chairs. f---came forward, took both my hands in his, and then presented me to the company. on being seated, i exchanged salutations, and then looked round, and perceived that the three sides of the court were composed of rambling wooden tenements; the fourth was a little garden in which a few flowers were cultivated. the elders sat, the youngers stood at a distance;--so respectful is youth to age in all this eastern world. the first figure in the former group was the father of our host; the acrid humours of extreme age had crimsoned his eye-lids, and his head shook from side to side, as he attempted to rise to salute me, but i held him to his seat. the wife of our host was a model of fragile delicate beauty. her nose, mouth, and chin, were exquisitely chiselled, and her skin was smooth and white as alabaster; but the eye-lid drooped; the eye hung fire, and under each orb the skin was slightly blue, but so blending with the paleness of the rest of the face, as rather to give distinctness to the character of beauty, than to detract from the general effect. her second child hung on her left arm, and a certain graceful negligence in the plaits of her hair and the arrangement of her bosom, showed that the cares of the young mother had superseded the nicety of the coquette. the only other person in the company worthy of remark, was a frank. his surtout was of cloth of second or third quality, but profusely braided. his stock appeared to strangle him, and a diamond breast-pin was stuck in a shirt of texture one degree removed from sail-cloth. his blood, as i afterwards learned, was so crossed by greek, tsinsar, and wallachian varieties, that it would have puzzled the united genealogists of europe to tell his breed; and his language was a mangled subdivision of that dialect which passes for french in the fashionable centres of the grecaille. _exquisite_. "quangt etes vous venie, monsieur?" _author_. "il y a huit jours." _exquisite_ (looking at a large ring on his _fore_ finger). "ce sont de bons diables dans ce pays-ci; mais tout est un po barbare." "assez barbare," said i, as i saw that the exquisite's nails were in the deepest possible mourning. _exquisite_. "avez vous ete a boukarest?" _author_. "non--pas encore." _exquisite_. "ah je wous assire que boukarest est maintenant comme paris et londres;" _author_. "avez-vous vu paris et londres?" _exquisite_. "non--mais boukarest vaut cent fois galatz et braila." during this colloquy, the gipsy music was playing; the first fiddle was really not bad: and the nonchalant rogue-humour of his countenance did not belie his alliance to that large family, which has produced "so many blackguards, but never a single blockhead." dinner was now announced. f----'s wife, relieved of her child, acted as first waitress. the fare consisted mostly of varieties of fowl, with a pilaff of rice, in the turkish manner, all decidedly good; but the wine rather sweet and muddy. when i asked for a glass of water, it was handed me in a little bowl of silver, which mine hostess had just dashed into a jar of filtered lymph. dinner concluded, the party rose, each crossing himself, and reciting a short formula of prayer; meanwhile a youthful relation of the house stood with the washing-basin and soap turret poised on his left hand, while with the right he poured on my hands water from a slender-spouted tin ewer. behind him stood the hostess holding a clean towel with a tiny web of silver thread running across its extremities, and on my right stood the ex-diners with sleeves tucked up, all in a row, waiting their turn at the wash-hand basin. after smoking a chibouque, i took my leave; for i had promised to spend the afternoon in the house of a swiss, who, along with the agent of the steam-boat company and a third individual, made up the sum total of the resident franko-levantines in roustchouk. a gun fired in the evening warned me that the steamer had arrived; and, anxious to push on for servia, i embarked forthwith. chapter iii. river steaming.--arrival at widdin--jew.--comfortless khan.--wretched appearance of widdin.--hussein pasha.--m. petronievitch.--steam balloon. river steaming is, according to my notions, the best of all sorts of locomotion. steam at sea makes you sick, and the voyage is generally over before you have gained your sea legs and your land appetite. in mail or stage you have no sickness and see the country, but you are squeezed sideways by helpless corpulence, and in front cooped into uneasiness by two pairs of egotistical knees and toes. as for locomotives, tunnels, cuts, and viaducts--this is not travelling to see the country, but arrival without seeing it. this eighth wonder of the world, so admirably adapted for business, is the despair of picturesque tourists, as well as post-horse, chaise, and gig letters. our cathedral towns, instead of being distinguished from afar by their cloud-capt towers, are only recognizable at their respective stations by the pyramids of gooseberry tarts and ham sandwiches being at one place at the lower, and at another at the upper, end of an apartment marked "refreshment room." now in river steaming you walk the deck, if the weather and the scenery be good; if the reverse, you lounge below; read, write, or play; and then the meals are arranged with germanic ingenuity for killing time and the digestive organs. on the second day the boat arrived at widdin, and the agent of the steam packet company, an old jew, came on board. i stepped across the plank and accompanied him to a large white house opposite the landing-place. on entering, i saw a group of israel's children in the midst of a deadly combat of sale and purchase, bawling at the top of their voices in most villainous castilian; all were filthy and shabbily dressed. the agent having mentioned who i was to the group, a broad-lipped young man with a german _mutze_ surmounting his oriental costume, stepped forward with a confident air, and in a thick guttural voice addressed me in an unknown tongue. i looked about for an answer, when the agent told me in turkish that he spoke english. _jew_. "you english gentleman, sir, and not know english." _author_. "i have to apologize for not recognizing the accents of my native country." _jew_. "bring goods wid you, sir?" _author_. "no, i am not a merchant. pray can you get me a lodging?" _jew_. "get you as mush room you like, sir." _author_. "have you been in england?" _jew_. "been in london, amsterdam, and hamburgh." we now arrived at the wide folding gates of the khan, which to be sure had abundance of space for travellers, but the misery and filth of every apartment disgusted me. one had broken windows, another a broken floor, a third was covered with half an inch of dust, and the weather outside was cold and rainy; so i shrugged up my shoulders and asked to be conducted to another khan. there i was somewhat better off, for i got into a new room leading out of a cafe where the charcoal burned freely and warmed the apartment. when the room was washed out i thought myself fortunate, so dreary and deserted had the other khan appeared to me. i now took a walk through the bazaars, but found the place altogether miserable, being somewhat less village-like than roustchouk. lying so nicely on the bank of the danube, which here makes such beautiful curves, and marked on the map with capital letters, it ought (such was my notion) to be a place having at least one well-built and well-stocked bazaar, a handsome seraglio, and some good-looking mosques. nothing of the sort. the konak or palace of the pasha is an old barrack. the seraglio of the famous passavan oglou is in ruins, and the only decent looking house in the place is the new office of the steam navigation company, which is on the danube. being ramadan, i could not see the pasha during the day; but in the evening, m. petronievitch, the exiled leader of the servian national party, introduced me to hussein pasha, the once terrible destroyer of the janissaries. this celebrated character appeared to be verging on eighty, and, afflicted with gout, was sitting in the corner of the divan at his ease, in the old turkish ample costume. the white beard, the dress of the pasha, the rich but faded carpet which covered the floor, the roof of elaborate but dingy wooden arabesque, were all in perfect keeping, and the dubious light of two thick wax candles rising two or three feet from the floor, but seemed to bring out the picture, which carried me back, a generation at least, to the pashas of the old school. hussein smoked a narghile of dark red bohemian cut crystal. m. petronievitch and myself were supplied with pipes which were more profusely mounted with diamonds, than any i had ever before smoked; for hussein pasha is beyond all comparison the wealthiest man in the ottoman empire. after talking over the last news from constantinople, he asked me what i thought of the projected steam balloon, which, from its being of a marvellous nature, appears to have caused a great deal of talk among the turks. i expressed little faith in its success; on which he ordered an attendant to bring him a drawing of a locomotive balloon steered by flags and all sorts of fancies. "will not this revolutionize the globe?" said the pasha; to which i replied, "c'est le premier pas qui coute; there is no doubt of an aã«rial voyage to india if they get over the first quarter of a mile."[1] i returned to sup with m. petronievitch at his house, and we had a great deal of conversation relative to the history, laws, manners, customs, and politics of servia; but as i subsequently obtained accurate notions of that country by personal observation, it is not necessary on the present occasion to return to our conversation. footnotes: [footnote 1: hussein pasha has since retired from widdin, where he made the greater part of his fortune, for he was engaged in immense agricultural and commercial speculations; he was succeeded by mustapha nourri pasha, formerly private secretary to sultan mahommud, who has also made a large fortune, as merchant and ship-owner.] chapter iv. leave widdin.--the timok.--enter servia.--brza palanka.--the iron gates.--old and new orsova.--wallachian matron.--semlin.--a conversation on language. i left widdin for the servian frontier, in a car of the country, with a couple of horses, the ground being gently undulated, but the mountains to the south were at a considerable distance. on our right, agreeable glimpses of the danube presented themselves from time to time. in six hours we arrived at the timok, the river that separates servia from bulgaria. the only habitation in the place was a log-house for the turkish custom-house officer. we were more than an hour in getting our equipage across the ferry, for the long drought had so reduced the water, that the boat was unable to meet the usual landing-place by at least four feet of steep embankment; in vain did the horses attempt to mount the acclivity; every spring was followed by a relapse, and at last one horse sunk jammed in between the ferry boat and the bank; so that we were obliged to loose the harness, send the horses on shore, and drag the dirty car as we best could up the half dried muddy slope. at last we succeeded, and a smart trot along the danube brought us to the servian lazaretto, which was a new symmetrical building, the promenade of which, on the danube, showed an attempt at a sort of pleasure-ground. i entered at sunset, and next morning on showing my tongue to the doctor, and paying a fee of one piastre (twopence) was free, and again put myself in motion. lofty mountains seemed to rise to the west, and the cultivated plain now became broken into small ridges, partly covered with forest trees. the ploughing oxen now became rarer; but herds of swine, grubbing at acorns and the roots of bushes, showed that i was changing the scene, and making the acquaintance not only of a new country, but of a new people. the peasants, instead of having woolly caps and frieze clothes as in bulgaria, all wore the red fez, and were dressed mostly in blue cloth; some of those in the villages wore black glazed caps; and in general the race appeared to be physically stronger and nobler than that which i had left. the bulgarians seemed to be a set of silent serfs, deserving (when not roused by some unusual circumstance) rather the name of machines than of men: these servian fellows seemed lazier, but all possessed a manliness of address and demeanour, which cannot be discovered in the bulgarian. brza palanka, at which we now arrived, is the only danubian port which the servians possess, below the iron gates; consequently, the only one which is in uninterrupted communication with galatz and the sea. a small sicilian vessel, laden with salt, passed into the black sea, and actually ascended the danube to this point, which is within a few hours of the hungarian frontier. as we approached the iron gates, the valley became a mere gorge, with barely room for the road, and fumbling through a cavernous fortification, we soon came in sight of the austro-hungarian frontier. _new_ orsova, one of the few remaining retreats of the turks in servia, is built on an island, and with its frail houses of yawning rafters looks very _old_. old orsova, opposite which we now arrived, looked quite _new_, and bore the true german type of formal white-washed houses, and high sharp ridged roofs, which called up forthwith the image of a dining-hall, where, punctually as the village-clock strikes the hour of twelve, a fair-haired, fat, red-faced landlord, serves up the soup, the _rindfleisch_, the _zuspeise_, and all the other dishes of the holy roman empire to the platz major, the haupt-zoll-amt director, the kanzlei director, the concepist, the protocollist, and _hoc genus omne_. after a night passed in the quarantine, i removed to the inn, and punctually as the clock struck half past twelve, the very party my imagination conjured up, assembled to discuss the _mehlspeise_ in the stencilled parlour of the hirsch. favoured by the most beautiful weather, i started in a sort of caleche for dreucova. the excellent new macadamized road was as smooth as a bowling-green, and only a lively companion was wanting to complete the exhilaration of my spirits. my fair fellow-traveller was an enormously stout wallachian matron, on her way to vienna, to see her _daughter_, who was then receiving her education at a boarding-school. i spoke no wallachian, she spoke nothing but wallachian; so our conversation was carried on by my attempting to make myself understood alternately by the italian, and the spanish forms of latin. "_una bella campagna_," said i, as we drove out orsova. "_bella, bella_?" said the lady, evidently puzzled. so i said, "_hermosa_." "_ah! formosa; formosa prate_," repeated the lady, evidently understanding that i meant a fine country. "_deunde venut_?" whence have you come? "constantinopolis;" and so on we went, supposing that we understood each other, she supplying me with new forms of bastard latin words, and adding with a smile, _romani_, or wallachian, as the language and people of wallachia are called by themselves. it is worthy of remark, that the wallachians and a small people in switzerland, are the only descendants of the romans, that still designate their language as that of the ancient mistress of the world. as i rolled along, the fascinations of nature got the better of my gallantry; the discourse flagged, and then dropped, for i found myself in the midst of the noblest river scenery i had ever beheld, certainly far surpassing that of the rhine, and upper danube. to the gloom and grandeur of natural portals, formed of lofty precipitous rocks, succeeds the open smiling valley, the verdant meadows, and the distant wooded hills, with all the soft and varied hues of autumn. here we appear to be driving up the avenues of an english park; yonder, where the mountain sinks sheer into the river, the road must find its way along an open gallery, with a roof weighing millions of tons, projecting from the mountain above. after sunset we arrived at dreucova, and next morning went on board the steamer, which conveyed me up the danube to semlin. the lower town of semlin is, from the exhalations on the banks of the river, frightfully insalubrious, but the cemetery enjoys a high and airy situation. the people in the town die off with great rapidity; but, to compensate for this, the dead are said to be in a highly satisfactory state of preservation. the inns here, once so bad, have greatly improved; but mine host, zum golden lowen, on my recent visits, always managed to give a very good dinner, including two sorts of savoury game. i recollect on a former visit, going to another inn, and found in the dining-room an individual, whose ruddy nose, and good-humoured nerveless smile, denoted a fondness for the juice of the grape, and seitel after seitel disappeared with rapidity. by-the-bye, old father danube is as well entitled to be represented with a perriwig of grapes as his brother the rhine. hungary in general, has a right merry bacchanalian climate. schiller or symian wine is in the same parallel of latitude as claret, oedenburger as burgundy, and a line run westwards from tokay would almost touch the vineyards of champagne. csaplovich remarks in his quaint way, that the four principal wines of hungary are cultivated by the four principal nations in it. that is to say, the slavonians cultivate the schiller, germans the oedenburger and ruster, magyars and wallachians the menesher. good schiller is the best syrmian wine. but i must return from this digression to the guest of the adler. on hearing that i was an englishman, he expressed a wish to hear as much of england as possible, and appeared thunderstruck, when i told him that london had nearly two millions of inhabitants, being four hundred thousand more than the population of the whole of the banat. this individual had of course learned five languages with his mother's milk, and therefore thought that the inhabitants of such a country as england must know ten at least. when i told him that the majority of the people in england knew nothing but english, he said, somewhat contemptuously, "o! you told me the fair side of the english character: but you did not tell me that the people was so ignorant." he then good-humouredly warned me against practising on his credulity. i pointed out how unnecessary other languages were for england itself; but that all languages could be learned in london. "can wallachian be learned in london?" "i have my doubts about wallachian, but"-"can magyar be learned in london?" "i suspect not." "can servian be learnt in london?" "i confess, i don't think that any body in london teaches servian; but"-"there again, you travellers are always making statements unfounded on fact. i have mentioned three leading languages, and nobody in your city knows anything about them." chapter v. description of belgrade.--fortifications.--streets and street population.--cathedral.--large square.--coffe-house.--deserted villa.--baths. through the courtesy and attention of mr. consul-general fonblanque and the numerous friends of m. petronievitch, i was, in the course of a few days, as familiar with all the principal objects and individuals in belgrade, as if i had resided months in the city. the fare of a boat from semlin to belgrade by austrian rowers is five zwanzigers, or about _3s. 6d._ english; and the time occupied is half an hour, that is to say, twenty minutes for the descent of the danube, and about ten minutes for the ascent of the save. on arrival at the low point of land at the confluence, we perceived the distinct line of the two rivers, the danube faithfully retaining its brown, muddy character, while the save is much clearer. we now had a much closer view of the fortress opposite. large embrasures, slightly elevated above the water's edge, were intended for guns of great calibre; but above, a gallimaufry of grass-grown and moss-covered fortifications were crowned by ricketty, red-tiled houses, and looking very unlike the magnificent towers in the last scene of the siege of belgrade, at drury lane. just within the banks of the save were some of the large boats which trade on the river; the new ones as curiously carved, painted, and even gilded, as some of those one sees at dort and rotterdam. they have no deck--for a ridge of rafters covers the goods, and the boatmen move about on ledges at the gunwale. the fortress of belgrade, jutting out exactly at the point of confluence of the rivers, has the town behind it. the servian, or principal quarter, slopes down to the save; the turkish quarter to the danube. i might compare belgrade to a sea-turtle, the head of which is represented by the fortress, the back of the neck by the esplanade or kalai meidan, the right flank by the turkish quarter, the left by the servian, and the ridge of the back by the street running from the esplanade to the gate of constantinople. we landed at the left side of our imaginary turtle, or at the quay of the servian quarter, which runs along the save. the sloping bank was paved with stones; and above was a large edifice with an arcade, one end of which served as the custom-house, the other as the austrian consulate. the population was diversified. shabby old turks were selling fruit; and boatmen, both moslem and christian--the former with turbans, the latter with short fez's--were waiting for a fare. to the left was a turkish guard-house, at a gate leading to the esplanade, with as smart a row of burnished muskets as one could expect. all within this gate is under the jurisdiction of the turkish pasha of the fortress; all without the gate in question, is under the government of the servian prefect of belgrade. we now turned into a curious old street, built quite in the turkish fashion, and composed of rafters knocked carelessly together, and looking as if the first strong gust of wind would send them smack over the water into hungary without the formality of a quarantine; but many of the shops were smartly garnished with clothes, haberdashery, and trinkets, mostly from bohemia and moravia; and in some i saw large blocks of rock-salt. notwithstanding the rigmarole construction of the quarter on the water's edge, (save and except at the custom-house,) it is the most busy quarter in the town: here are the places of business of the principal merchants in the place. this class is generally of the tsinsar nation, as the descendants of the roman colonists in macedonia are called; their language is a corrupt latin, and resembles the wallachian dialect very closely. we now ascended by a steep street to the upper town. the most prominent object in the first open space we came to is the cathedral, a new and large but tasteless structure, with a profusely gilt bell-tower, in the russian manner; and the walls of the interior are covered with large paintings of no merit. but one must not be too critical: a kindling of intellectual energy ever seems, in most countries, to precede excellence in the imitative arts, which latter, too often survives the ruins of those ruder and nobler qualities which assure the vigorous existence of states or provinces. in the centre of the town is an open square, which forms a sort of line of demarcation between the crescent and the cross. on the one side, several large and good houses have been constructed by the wealthiest senators, in the german manner, with flaring new white walls and bright green shutter-blinds. on the other side is a mosque, and dead old garden walls, with walnut trees and levantine roofs peeping up behind them. look on this picture, and you have the type of all domestic architecture lying between you and the snow-fenced huts of lapland; cast your eyes over the way, and imagination wings lightly to the sweet south with its myrtles, citrons, marbled steeps and fragrance-bearing gales. beside the mosque is the new turkish coffee-house, which is kept by an arab by nation and a moslem by religion, but born at lucknow. one day, in asking for the mullah of the mosque, who had gone to bosnia, i entered into conversation with him; but on learning that i was an englishman he fought shy, being, like most indian moslems when travelling in turkey, ashamed of their sovereign being a protected ally of a frank government. i now entered the region of gardens and villas, which, previous to the revolution of kara georg, was occupied principally by turks. passing down a shady lane my attention was arrested by a rotten moss-grown garden door, at the sight of which memory leaped backwards for four or five years. here i had spent a happy forenoon with colonel h----, and the physician of the former pasha, an old hanoverian, who, as surgeon to a british regiment had gone through all the fatigues of the peninsular war. i pushed open the door, and there, completely secluded from the bustle of the town, and the view of the stranger, grew the vegetation as luxuriant as ever, relieving with its dark green frame the clear white of the numerous domes and minarets of the turkish quarter, and the broad-bosomed danube which filled up the centre of the picture; but the house and stable, which had resounded with the good-humoured laugh of the master, and the neighing of the well-fed little stud (for horse-flesh was the weak side of our esculapius), were tenantless, ruinous, and silent. the doctor had died in the interval at widdin, in the service of hussein pasha. i mechanically withdrew, abstracted from external nature by the "memory of joys that were past, pleasant and mournful to the soul." i then took a turkish bath; but the inferiority of those in belgrade to similar luxuries in constantinople, damascus, and cairo, was strikingly apparent on entering. the edifice and the furniture were of the commonest description. the floors of the interior of brick instead of marble, and the plaster and the cement of the walls in a most defective state. the atmosphere in the drying room was so cold from the want of proper windows and doors, that i was afraid lest i should catch a catarrh. the oriental bath, when paved with fine grained marbles, and well appointed in the departments of linen, sherbet, and _narghile_, is a great luxury; but the bath at belgrade was altogether detestable. in the midst of the drying business a violent dispute broke out between the proprietor and an arnaout, whom the former styled a _cokoshary_, or hen-eater, another term for a robber; for when lawless arnaouts arrive in a village, after eating up half the contents of the poultry-yard, they demand a tribute in the shape of _compensation for the wear and tear of their teeth_ while consuming the provisions they have forcibly exacted. chapter vi. europeanization of belgrade.--lighting and paving.--interior of the fortress--turkish pasha.--turkish quarter.--turkish population.--panorama of belgrade--dinner party given by the prince. the melancholy i experienced in surveying the numerous traces of desolation in turkey was soon effaced at belgrade. here all was life and activity. it was at the period of my first visit, in 1839, quite an oriental town; but now the haughty parvenu spire of the cathedral throws into the shade the minarets of the mosques, graceful even in decay. many of the bazaar-shops have been fronted and glazed. the oriental dress has become much rarer; and houses several stories high, in the german fashion, are springing up everywhere. but in two important particulars belgrade is as oriental as if it were situated on the tigris or barrada--lighting and paving. it is impossible in wet weather to pay a couple of visits without coming home up to the ankles in mud; and at night all locomotion without a lantern is impossible. belgrade, from its elevation, could be most easily lighted with gas, and at a very small expense; as even if there be no coal in servia, there is abundance of it at moldava, which is on the danube between belgrade and orsova; that is to say, considerably above the iron gates. i make this remark, not so much to reproach my servian friends with backwardness, but to stimulate them to all easily practicable improvements. one day i accompanied m. de fonblanque on a visit to the pasha in the citadel, which we reached by crossing the glacis or neck of land that connects the castle with the town. this place forms the pleasantest evening lounge in the vicinity of belgrade; for on the one side is an extensive view of the turkish town, and the danube wending its way down to semendria; on the other is the save, its steep bank piled with street upon street, and the hills beyond them sloping away to the bosniac frontier. the ramparts are in good condition; and the first object that strikes a stranger on entering, are six iron spikes, on which, in the time of the first revolution, the heads of servians used to be stuck. milosh once saved his own head from this elevation by his characteristic astuteness. during his alliance with the turks in 1814, (or 1815,) he had large pecuniary transactions with the pasha, for he was the medium through whom the people paid their tribute. five heads grinned from five spikes as he entered the castle, and he comprehended that the sixth was reserved for him; the last head set up being that of glavash, a leader, who, like himself, was then supporting the government: so he immediately took care to make the pasha understand that he was about to set out on a tour in the country, to raise some money for the vizierial strong-box. "peh eiu," said soliman pasha, thinking to catch him next time, and get the money at the same time; so milosh was allowed to depart; but knowing that if he returned spike the sixth would not wait long for its head, he at once raised the district of rudnick, and ended the terrible war which had been begun under much less favourable auspices, by the more valiant but less astute kara georg. we passed a second draw-bridge, and found ourselves in the interior of the fortress. a large square was formed by ruinous buildings. extensive barracks were windowless and tenantless, but the mosque and the pasha's konak were in good order. we were ushered into an audience-room of great extent, with a low carved roof and some old-fashioned furniture, the divan being in the corner, and the windows looking over the precipice to the danube below. hafiz pasha, the same who commanded at the battle of nezib, was about fifty-five, and a gentleman in air and manner, with a grey beard. in course of conversation he told me that he was a circassian. he asked me about my travels: and with reference to syria said, "land operations through kurdistan against mehemet ali were absurd. i suggested an attack by sea, while a land force should make a diversion by antioch, but i was opposed." after the usual pipes and coffee we took our leave. hafiz pasha's political relations are necessarily of a very restricted character, as he rules only the few turks remaining in servia; that is to say, a few thousands in belgrade and ushitza, a few hundreds in shabatz sokol and the island of orsova. he represents the suzerainety of the porte over the christian population, without having any thing to do with the details of administration. his income, like that of other mushirs or pashas of three tails, is 8000l. per annum. hafiz pasha, if not a successful general, was at all events a brave and honourable man, and his character for justice made him highly respected. one of his predecessors, who was at belgrade on my first visit there in 1839, was a man of another stamp,--the notorious youssouf pasha, who sold varna during the russian war. the re-employment of such an individual is a characteristic illustration of eastern manners. as my first stay at belgrade extended to between two and three months, i saw a good deal of hafiz pasha, who has a great taste for geography, and seemed to be always studying at the maps. he seemed to think that nothing would be so useful to turkey as good roads, made to run from the principal ports of asia minor up to the depots of the interior, so as to connect sivas, tokat, angora, konieh, kaiserieh, &c. with samsoun, tersoos, and other ports. he wittily reversed the proverb "_el rafyk som el taryk_" (companionship makes secure roads) by saying, "_el taryk som el rafyk_" (good roads increase passenger traffic). at the bairam reception, the pasha wore his great nishau of diamonds. prince alexander wore a blue uniform with gold epaulettes, and an aigrette of brilliants in his fez. his predecessor, michael, on such occasions, wore a cocked hat, which used to give offence, as the fez is considered by the turks indispensable to a recognition of the suzerainety of the porte. being bairam, i was induced to saunter into the turkish quarter of the town, where all wore the handsome holyday dresses of the old fashion, being mostly of crimson cloth, edged with gold lace. my cicerone, a servian, pointed out those shops belonging to the sultan, still marked with the letter f, intended, i suppose, for _mulk_ or imperial property. we then turned to the left, and came into a singular looking street, composed of the ruins of ornamented houses in the imposing, but too elaborate style of architecture, which was in vogue in vienna, during the life of charles the sixth, and which was a corruption of the style de louis quatorze. these buildings were half-way up concealed from view by common old bazaar shops. this was the "lange gasse," or main street of the german town during the austrian occupation of twenty-two years, from 1717 to 1739. most of these houses were built with great solidity, and many still have the stucco ornaments that distinguish this style. the walls of the palace of prince eugene are still standing complete, but the court-yard is filled up with rubbish, at least six feet high, and what were formerly the rooms of the ground-floor have become almost cellars. the edifice is called to this day, "_princeps konak_." this mixture of the coarse, but picturesque features of oriental life, with the dilapidated stateliness of palaces in the style of the full-bottom-wigged vanbrughs of austria, has the oddest effect imaginable. the turks remaining in belgrade have mostly sunk into poverty, and occupy themselves principally with water-carrying, wood-splitting, &c. the better class latterly kept up their position, by making good sales of houses and shops; for building ground is now in some situations very expensive. mr. fonblanque pays 100â£. sterling per annum for his rooms, which is a great deal, compared with the rates of house-rent in hungary just over the water. one day, i ascended the spire of the cathedral, in order to have a view of the city and environs. belgrade, containing only 35,000 inhabitants, cannot boast of looking very like a metropolis; but the environs contain the materials of a good panorama. looking westward, we see the winding its way from the woods of topshider; the servian shore is abrupt, the austrian flat, and subject to inundation; the prospect on the north-west being closed in by the dim dark line of the frusca gora, or "wooded mountain," which forms the backbone of slavonia, and is the high wooded region between the save and the drave. northwards, are the spires of semlin, rising up from the danube, which here resumes its easterly course; while south and east stretch the turkish quarter, which i have been describing. there are no formal levees or receptions at the palace of prince alexander, except on his own fete day. once or twice a year he entertains at dinner the pasha, the ministers, and the foreign consuls-general. in the winter, the prince gives one or two balls. one of the former species of entertainments took place during my stay, and i received the prince's invitation. at the appointed day, i found the avenue to the residence thronged with people who were listening to the band that played in the court-yard; and on arriving fit the top of the stairs, was led by an officer in a blue uniform, who seemed to direct the ceremonies of the day, into the saloon, in which i had, on my arrival in belgrade, paid my respects to the prince, which might be pronounced the fac simile of the drawing-room of a hungarian nobleman; the parquet was inlaid and polished, the chairs and sofas covered with crimson and white satin damask, which is an unusual luxury in these regions, the roof admirably painted in subdued colours, in the best vienna style. high white porcelain urn-like stoves heated the suite of rooms. the company had that picturesque variety of character and costume which every traveller delights in. the prince, a muscular middle sized dark complexioned man, of about thirty-five, with a serious composed air, wore a plain blue military uniform. the princess and her _dames de compagnie_ wore the graceful native servian costume. the pasha wore the nizam dress, and the nishan iftihar; baron lieven, the russian commissioner, in the uniform of a general, glittered with innumerable orders; colonel philippovich, a man of distinguished talents, represented austria. the archbishop, in his black velvet cap, a large enamelled cross hanging by a massive gold chain from his neck, sat in stately isolation; and the six feet four inches high garashanin, minister of the interior, conversed with stojan simitch, the president of the senate, one of the few servians in high office, who retains his old turkish costume, and has a frame that reminds one of the farnese hercules. then what a medley of languages; servian, german, russian, turkish, and french, all in full buzz! we proceeded to the dining-room, where the _cuisine_ was in every respect in the german manner. when the dessert appeared, the prince rose with a creaming glass of champagne in his hand, and proposed the health of the sultan, acknowledged by the pasha; and then, after a short pause, the health of czar nicolay paulovitch, acknowledged by baron lieven; then came the health of other crowned heads. baron lieven now rose and proposed the health of the prince. the pasha and the princess were toasted in turn; and then m. wastchenko, the russian consul general rose, and in animated terms, drank to the prosperity of servia. the entertainment, which commenced at one o'clock, was prolonged to an advanced period of the afternoon, and closed with coffee, liqueurs, and chibouques in the drawing-room; the princess and the ladies having previously withdrawn to the private apartments. my time during the rest of the year was taken up with political, statistical, and historical inquiries, the results of which will be found condensed at the termination of the narrative part of this work. chapter vii. return to servia.--the danube.--semlin.--wucics and petronievitch.--cathedral solemnity.--subscription ball. after an absence of six months in england, i returned to the danube. vienna and pesth offered no attractions in the month of august, and i felt impatient to put in execution my long cherished project of travelling through the most romantic woodlands of servia. suppose me then at the first streak of dawn, in the beginning of august, 1844, hurrying after the large wheelbarrow which carries the luggage of the temporary guests of the queen of england at pesth to the steamer lying just below the long bridge of boats that connects the quiet sombre bureaucratic ofen with the noisy, bustling, movement-loving new city, which has sprung up as it were by enchantment on the opposite side of the water. i step on board--the signal is given for starting--the lofty and crimson-peaked bloxberg--the vine-clad hill that produces the fiery ofener wine, and the long and graceful quay, form, as it were, a fine peristrephic panorama, as the vessel wheels round, and, prow downwards, commences her voyage for the vast and curious east, while the danubian tourist bids a dizzy farewell to this last snug little centre of european civilization. we hurry downwards towards the frontiers of turkey, but nature smiles not,--we have on our left the dreary steppe of central hungary, and on our right the low distant hills of baranya. alas! this is not the danube of passau, and lintz, and molk, and theben. but now the drave pours her broad waters into the great artery. the right shore soon becomes somewhat bolder, and agreeably wooded hills enliven the prospect. this little mountain chain is the celebrated frusca gora, the stronghold of the servian language, literature, and nationality on the austrian aide of the save. a few days after my arrival, wucics and petronievitch, the two pillars of the party of kara georgevitch, the reigning prince, and the opponents of the ousted obrenovitch family, returned from banishment in consequence of communications that had passed between the british and russian governments. great preparations were made to receive the popular favourites. one morning i was attracted to the window, and saw an immense flock of sheep slowly paraded along, their heads being decorated with ribbons, followed by oxen, with large citrons stuck on the tips of their horns. one vender of shawls and carpets had covered all the front of his shop with his gaudy wares, in order to do honour to the patriots, and at the same time to attract the attention of purchasers. the tolling of the cathedral bell announced the approach of the procession, which was preceded by a long train of rustic cavaliers, noble, vigorous-looking men. standing at the balcony, we missed the sight of the heroes of the day, who had gone round by other streets. we, therefore, went to the cathedral, where all the principal persons in servia were assembled. one old man, with grey, filmy, lack-lustre eyes, pendant jaws, and white beard, was pointed out to me as a centenarian witness of this national manifestation. the grand screen, which in the greek churches veils the sanctuary from the vulgar gaze, was hung with rich silks, and on a raised platform, covered with carpets, stood the archbishop, a dignified high-priest-looking figure, with crosier in hand, surrounded by his deacons in superbly embroidered robes. the huzzas of the populace grew louder as the procession approached the cathedral, a loud and prolonged buzz of excited attention accompanied the opening of the grand central portal, and wucics and petronievitch, grey with the dust with which the immense cavalcade had besprinkled them, came forward, kissed the cross and gospels, which the archbishop presented to them, and, kneeling down, returned thanks for their safe restoration. on regaining their legs, the archbishop advanced to the edge of the platform, and began a discourse describing the grief the nation had experienced at their departure, the universal joy for their return, and the hope that they would ever keep peace and union in view in all matters of state, and that in their duties to the state they must never forget their responsibility to the most high. wucics, dressed in the coarse frieze jacket and boots of a servian peasant, heard with a reverential inclination of the head the elegantly polished discourse of the gold-bedizened prelate, but nought relaxed one single muscle of that adamantine visage; the finer but more luminous features of petronievitch were evidently under the control of a less powerful will. at certain passages of the discourse, his intelligent eye was moistened with tears. two deacons then prayed successively for the sultan, the emperor of russia, and the prince. and now uprose from every tongue, and every heart, a hymn for the longevity of wucics and petronievitch. "the solemn song for many days" is the expressive title of this sublime chant. this hymn is so old that its origin is lost in the obscure dawn of christianity in the east, and so massive, so nobly simple, as to be beyond the ravages of time, and the caprices of convention. the procession then returned, the band playing the wucics march, to the houses of the two heroes of the day. we dined; and just as dessert appeared the whiz of a rocket announced the commencement of fire-works. as most of us had seen the splendid bouquet of rockets, which, during the fetes of july, amuse the parisians, we entertained slender expectations of being pleased with an illumination at belgrade. on going out, however, the scene proved highly interesting. in the grand square were two columns _a la vicentina_, covered with lamps. one side of the square was illuminated with the word wucics, and the other with the word avram in colossal letters. at a later period of the evening the downs were covered with fires roasting innumerable sheep and oxen, a custom which seems in all countries to accompany popular rejoicing. i had never seen a servian full-dress ball, but the arrival of wucics and petronievitch procured me the opportunity of witnessing an entertainment of this description. the principal apartment in the new konak, built by prince michael, was the ball-room, which, by eight o'clock, was filled, as the phrase goes, by all "the rank and fashion" of belgrade. senators of the old school, in their benishes and shalwars, and senators of the new school in pantaloons and stiff cravats. as servia has become, morally speaking, europe's youngest daughter, this is all very well: but i must ever think that in the article of dress this innovation is not an improvement. i hope that the ladies of servia will never reject their graceful national costume for the shifting modes and compressed waists of european capitals. no head-dress, that i have seen in the levant, is better calculated to set off beauty than that of the ladies of servia. from a small greek fez they suspend a gold tassel, which contrasts with the black and glossy hair, which is laid smooth and flat down the temple. even now, while i write, memory piques me with the graceful toss of the head, and the rustle of the yellow satin gown of the sister of the princess, who was admitted to be the handsomest woman in the room, and with her tunic of crimson velvet embroidered in gold, and faced with sable, would have been, in her strictly indigenous costume, the queen of any fancy ball in old europe. wucics and petronievitch were of course received with shouts and clapping of hands, and took the seats prepared for them at the upper end of the hall. the servian national dance was then performed, being a species of cotillion in alternate quick and slow movements. i need not repeat the other events of the evening; how forms and features were passed in review; how the jewelled, smooth-skinned, doll-like beauties usurped the admiration of the minute, and how the indefinably sympathetic air of less pretentious belles prolonged their magnetic sway to the close of the night. chapter viii. holman, the blind traveller.--milutinovich, the poet.--bulgarian legend.--tableau de genre.--departure for the interior. belgrade, unlike other towns on the danube, is much less visited by europeans, since the introduction of steam navigation, than it was previously. servia used to be the _porte cochere_ of the east; and most travellers, both before and since the lively lady mary wortley montague, took the high road to constantinople by belgrade, sofia, philippopoli, and adrianople. no mere tourist would now-a-days think of undertaking the fatiguing ride across european turkey, when he can whizz past widdin and roustchouk, and even cut off the grand tongue at the mouth of the danube, by going in an omnibus from czernovoda to kustendgi; consequently the arrival of an english traveller from the interior, is a somewhat rare occurrence. one day i was going out at the gateway, and saw a strange figure, with a long white beard and a spanish cap, mounted on a sorry horse, and at once recognized it to be that of holman, the blind traveller. "how do you do, mr. holman?" said i. "i know that voice well." "i last saw you in aleppo," said i; and he at once named me. i then got him off his horse, and into quarters. this singular individual had just come through the most dangerous parts of bosnia in perfect safety; a feat which a blind man can perform more easily than one who enjoys the most perfect vision; for all compassionate and assist a fellow-creature in this deplorable plight. next day i took mr. holman through the town, and described to him the lions of belgrade; and taking a walk on the esplanade, i turned his face to the cardinal points of the compass, successively explaining the objects lying in each direction, and, after answering a few of his cross questions, the blind traveller seemed to know as much of belgrade as was possible for a person in his condition. he related to me, that since our meeting at aleppo, he had visited damascus and other eastern cities; and at length, after sundry adventures, had arrived on the adriatic, and visited the vladika of montenegro, who had given him a good reception. he then proceeded through herzegovina and bosnia to seraievo, where he passed three days, and he informed me that from seraievo to the frontiers of servia was nearly all forest, with here and there the skeletons of robbers hung up in chains. mr. holman subsequently went, as i understood, to wallachia and transylvania. having delayed my departure for the interior, in order to witness the national festivities, nothing remained but the purgatory of preparation, the squabbling about the hire of horses, the purchase of odds and ends for convenience on the road, for no such thing as a canteen is to be had at belgrade. some persons recommended my hiring a turkish araba; but as this is practicable only on the regularly constructed roads, i should have lost the sight of the most picturesque regions, or been compelled to take my chance of getting horses, and leaving my baggage behind. to avoid this inconvenience, i resolved to perform the whole journey on horseback. the government showed me every attention, and orders were sent by the minister of the interior to all governors, vice-governors, and employes, enjoining them to furnish me with every assistance, and communicate whatever information i might desire; to which, as the reader will see in the sequel, the fullest effect was given by those individuals. on the day of departure, a tap was heard at the door, and enter holman to bid me good-bye. another tap at the door, and enter milutinovich, who is the best of the living poets of servia, and has been sometimes called the ossian of the balkan. as for his other pseudonyme, "the homer of a hundred sieges," that must have been invented by mr. george robins, the demosthenes of "_one_ hundred rostra." the reading public in servia is not yet large enough to enable a man of letters to live solely by his works; so our bard has a situation in the ministry of public instruction. one of the most remarkable compositions of milutinovich is an address to a young surgeon, who, to relieve the poet from difficulties, expended in the printing of his poems a sum which he had destined for his own support at a university, in order to obtain his degree. now, it may not be generally known that one of the oldest legends of bulgaria is that of "poor lasar," which runs somewhat thus:-"the day departed, and the stranger came, as the moon rose on the silver snow. 'welcome,' said the poor lasar to the stranger; 'luibitza, light the faggot, and prepare the supper.' "luibitza answered: 'the forest is wide, and the lighted faggot burns bright, but where is the supper? have we not fasted since yesterday?' "shame and confusion smote the heart of poor lasar. "'art thou a bulgarian,' said the stranger, 'and settest not food before thy guest?' "poor lasar looked in the cupboard, and looked in the garret, nor crumb, nor onion, were found in either. shame and confusion smote the heart of poor lasar. "'here is fat and fair flesh,' said the stranger, pointing to janko, the curly-haired boy. luibitza shrieked and fell. 'never,' said lasar, 'shall it be said that a bulgarian was wanting to his guest,' he seized a hatchet, and janko was slaughtered as a lamb. ah, who can describe the supper of the stranger! "lasar fell into a deep sleep, and at midnight he heard the stranger cry aloud, 'arise, lasar, for i am the lord thy god; the hospitality of bulgaria is untarnished. thy son janko is restored to life, and thy stores are filled.' "long lived the rich lasar, the fair luibitza, and the curly-haired janko." milutinovich, in his address to the youthful surgeon, compares his transcendent generosity to the sacrifice made by lasar in the wild and distasteful legend i have here given. i introduced the poet and the traveller to each other, and explained their respective merits and peculiarities. poor old milutinovich, who looked on his own journey to montenegro as a memorable feat, was awe-struck when i mentioned the innumerable countries in the four quarters of the world which had been visited by the blind traveller. he immediately recollected of having read an account of him in the augsburg gazette, and with a reverential simplicity begged me to convey to him his desire to kiss, his beard. holman consented with a smile, and milutinovich, advancing as if he were about to worship a deity, lifted the peak of white hairs from the beard of the aged stranger, pressed them to his lips, and prayed aloud that he might return to his home in safety. in old europe, milutinovich would have been called an actor; but his deportment, if it had the originality, had also the childish simplicity of nature. when the hour of departure arrived, i descended to the court yard, which would have furnished good materials for a _tableau de genre_, a lofty, well built, german-looking house, rising on three sides, surrounded a most rudely paved court, which was inclosed on the fourth by a stable and hay-loft, not one-third the height of the rest. various mustachioed _far niente_ looking figures, wrapped _cap-a-pie_ in dressing gowns, lolled out of the first floor corridor, and smoked their chibouques with unusual activity, while the ground floor was occupied by german washer-women and their soap-suds; three of the arcades being festooned with shirts and drawers hung up to dry, and stockings, with apertures at the toes and heels for the free circulation of the air. loud exclamations, and the sound of the click of balls, proceeded from the large archway, on which a cafe opened. in the midst of the yard stood our horses, which, with their heavily padded and high cantelled turkish saddles, somewhat _a la wouvermans_, were held by fonblanque's robust pandour in his crimson jacket and white fustanella. my man paul gave a smack of the whip, and off we cantered for the highlands and woodlands of servia. chapter ix. journey to shabatz.--resemblance of manners to those of the middle ages.--palesh.--a servian bride.--blind minstrel.--gypsies.--macadamized road. the immediate object of my first journey was shabatz; the second town in servia, which is situated further up the save than belgrade, and is thus close upon the frontier of bosnia. we consequently had the river on our right hand all the way. after five hours' travelling, the mountains, which hung back as long as we were in the vicinity of belgrade, now approached, and draped in forest green, looked down on the winding save and the pinguid flats of the slavonian frontier. just before the sun set, we wound by a circuitous road to an eminence which, projected promontory-like into the river's course. three rude crosses were planted on a steep, not unworthy the columnar harmony of grecian marble. when it was quite dark, we arrived at the colubara, and passed the ferry which, during the long servian revolution, was always considered a post of importance, as commanding a communication between shabatz and the capital. an old man accompanied us, who was returning to his native place on the frontiers of bosnia, having gone to welcome wucics and petronievitch. he amused me by asking me "if the king of my country lived in a strong castle?" i answered, "no, we have a queen, whose strength is in the love of all her subjects." indeed, it is impossible to travel in the interior of turkey without having the mind perpetually carried back to the middle ages by a thousand quaint remarks and circumstances, inseparable from the moral and political constitution of a half civilized and quasi-federal empire. for, in nearly all the mountainous parts of turkey, the power of the government is almost nominal, and even up to a very recent period the position of the dere beys savoured strongly of feudalism. we arrived at palesh, the khan of which looked like a new coffee-shop in a turkish bazaar, and i thought that we should have a sorry night's quarters; but mine host, leading the way with a candle up a ladder, and though a trap-door, put us into a clean newly-carpeted room, and in an hour the boy entered with turkish wash-hand apparatus; and after ablution the khan keeper produced supper, consisting of soup, which contained so much lemon juice, that, without a wry face, i could scarcely eat it--boiled lamb, from which the soup had been made, and then a stew of the same with tomata sauce. a bed was then spread out on the floor _a la turque_, which was rather hard; but as the sheets were snowy white, i reckoned myself very lucky. i must say that there is a degree of cleanliness within doors, which i had been led to consider as somewhat foreign to the habits of slaavic populations. the lady of the austrian consul-general in belgrade told me that she was struck with the propriety of the dwellings of the poor, as contrasted with those in galicia, where she had resided for many years; and every traveller in germany is struck with the difference which exists between the villages of bohemia and those in saxony, and other adjacent german provinces. from palesh we started with fine weather for skela, through a beautifully wooded park, some fields being here and there inclosed with wattling. skela is a new ferry on the save, to facilitate the communication with austria. near here are redoubts, where kara georg, the father of the reigning prince, held out during the disasters of 1813, until all the women and children were transferred in safety to the austrian territory. here we met a very pretty girl, who, in answer to the salute of my fellow-travellers, bent herself almost to the earth. on asking the reason, i was told that she was a bride, whom custom compels, for a stated period, to make this humble reverence. we then came to the skela, and seeing a large house within an enclosure, i asked what it was, and was told that it was the reconciliation-house, (_primiritelnj sud_,) a court of first instance, in which cases are decided by the village elders, without expense to the litigants, and beyond which suits are seldom carried to the higher courts. there is throughout all the interior of servia a stout opposition to the nascent lawyer class in belgrade. i have been more than once amused on hearing an advocate, greedy of practice, style this laudable economy and patriarchal simplicity--"avarice and aversion from civilization." as it began to rain we entered a tavern, and ordered a fowl to be roasted, as the soup and stews of yester-even were not to my taste. a booby, with idiocy marked on his countenance, was lounging about the door, and when our mid-day meal was done i ordered the man to give him a glass of _slivovitsa_, as plum brandy is called. he then came forward, trembling, as if about to receive sentence of death, and taking off his greasy fez, said, "i drink to our prince kara georgovich, and to the progress and enlightenment of the nation." i looked with astonishment at the torn, wretched habiliments of this idiot swineherd. he was too stupid to entertain these sentiments himself; but this trifling circumstance was the feather which indicated how the wind blew. the servians are by no means a nation of talkers; they are a serious people; and if the determination to rise were not in the minds of the people, it would not be on the lips of the baboon-visaged oaf of an insignificant hamlet. the rain now began to pour in torrents, so to make the most of it, we ordered another magnum of strong red wine, and procured from the neighbourhood a blind fiddler, who had acquired a local reputation. his instrument, the favourite one of servia, is styled a _goosely_, being a testudo-formed viol; no doubt a relic of the antique, for the servian monarchy derived all its arts from the greeks of the lower empire. but the musical entertainment, in spite of the magnum of wine, and the jovial challenges of our fellow traveller from the drina, threw me into a species of melancholy. the voice of the minstrel, and the tone of the instrument, were soft and melodious, but so profoundly plaintive as to be painful. the song described the struggle of osman bairactar with michael, a servian chief, and, as it was explained to me, called up successive images of a war of extermination, with its pyramids of ghastly trunkless heads, and fields of charcoal, to mark the site of some peaceful village, amid the blaze of which its inhabitants had wandered to an eternal home in the snows and trackless woods of the balkan. when i looked out of the tavern window the dense vapours and torrents of rain did not elevate my spirits; and when i cast my eyes on the minstrel i saw a peasant, whose robust frame might have supported a large family, reduced by the privation of sight, to waste his best years in strumming on a monotonous viol for a few piastres. i flung him a gratuity, and begged him to desist. after musing an hour, i again ordered the horses, although it still rained, and set forth, the road being close to the river, at one part of which a fleet of decked boats were moored. i perceived that they were all navigated by bosniac moslems, one of whom, smoking his pipe under cover, wore the green turban of a shereef; they were all loaded with raw produce, intended for sale at belgrade or semlin. the rain increasing, we took shelter in a wretched khan, with a mud floor, and a fire of logs blazing in the centre, the smoke escaping as it best could by the front and back doors. gipsies and servian peasants sat round it in a large circle; the former being at once recognizable, not only from their darker skins, but from their traits being finer than those of the servian peasantry. the gipsies fought bravely against the turks under kara georg, and are now for the most part settled, although politically separated from the rest of the community, and living under their own responsible head; but, as in other countries, they prefer horse dealing and smith's work to other trades. as there was no chance of the storm abating, i resolved to pass the night here on discovering that there was a separate room, which our host said he occasionally unlocked, for the better order of travellers: but as there was no bed, i had recourse to my carpet and pillow, for the expense of _uebergewicht_ had deterred me from bringing a canteen and camp bed from england. next morning, on waking, the sweet chirp of a bird, gently echoed in the adjoining woods, announced that the storm had ceased, and nature resumed her wonted calm. on arising, i went to the door, and the unclouded effulgence of dawn bursting through the dripping boughs and rain-bespangled leaves, seemed to realize the golden tree of the garden of the abbassides. the road from this point to shabatz was one continuous avenue of stately oaks--nature's noblest order of sylvan architecture; at some places, gently rising to views of the winding save, with sun, sky, and freshening breeze to quicken the sensations, or falling into the dell, where the stream darkly pellucid, murmured under the sombre foliage. the road, as we approached shabatz, proved to be macadamized in a certain fashion: a deep trench was dug on each side; stakes about a foot and a half high, interlaced with wicker-work, were stuck into the ground within the trench, and the road was then filled up with gravel. chapter x. shabatz.--a provincial chancery.--servian collector.--description of his house.--country barber.--turkish quarter.--self-taught priest.--a provincial dinner.--native soiree. i entered shabatz by a wide street, paved in some places with wood. the bazaars are all open, and shabatz looks like a good town in bulgaria. i saw very few shops with glazed fronts and counters in the european manner. i alighted at the principal khan, which had attached to it just such a cafe and billiard table as one sees in country towns in hungary. how odd! to see the servians, who here all wear the old turkish costume, except the turban--immersed in the tactics of _carambolage_, skipping most gaily and un-orientally around the table, then balancing themselves on one leg, enveloped in enormous inexpressibles, bending low, and cocking the eye to catch the choicest bits. surrendering our horses to the care of the khan keeper, i proceeded to the konak, or government house, to present my letters. this proved to be a large building, in the style of constantinople, which, with its line of bow windows, and kiosk-fashioned rooms, surmounted with projecting roofs, might have passed muster on the bosphorus. on entering, i was ushered into the office of the collector, to await his arrival, and, at a first glance, might have supposed myself in a formal austrian kanzley. there were the flat desks, the strong boxes, and the shelves of coarse foolscap; but a pile of long chibouques, and a young man, with a slight northumbrian burr, and servian dress, showed that i was on the right bank of the save. the collector now made his appearance, a roundly-built, serious, burgomaster-looking personage, who appeared as if one of vander helst's portraits had stepped out of the canvass, so closely does the present servian dress resemble that of holland, in the seventeenth century, in all but the hat. having read the letter, he cleared his throat with a loud hem, and then said with great deliberation, "gospody ilia garashanin informs me that having seen many countries, you also wish to see servia, and that i am to show you whatever you desire to see, and obey whatever you choose to command; and now you are my guest while you remain here. go you, simo, to the khan," continued the collector, addressing a tall momk or pandour, who, armed to the teeth, stood with his hands crossed at the door, "and get the gentleman's baggage taken to my house.--i hope," added he, "you will be pleased with shabatz; but you must not be critical, for we are still a rude people." _author_. "childhood must precede manhood; that is the order of nature." _collector_. "ay, ay, our birth was slow, and painful; servia, as you say, is yet a child." _author_. "yes, but a stout, chubby, healthy child." a gleam of satisfaction produced a thaw of the collector's ice-bound visage, and, descending to the street, i accompanied him until we arrived at a house two stories high, which we entered by a wide new wooden gate, and then mounting a staircase, scrupulously clean, were shown into his principal room, which was surrounded by a divan _a la turque_; but it had no carpet, so we went straight in with our boots on. a german chest of drawers was in one corner; the walls were plain white-washed, and so was a stove about six feet high; the only ornament of the room was a small snake moulding in the centre of the roof. some oak chairs were ranged along the lower end of the room, and a table stood in the middle, covered with a german linen cloth, representing pesth and ofen; the bloxberg being thrice as lofty as the reality, the genius of the artist having set it in the clouds. the steamer had a prow like a roman galley, a stern like a royal yacht, and even the steam from the chimney described graceful volutes, with academic observance of the line of beauty. "we are still somewhat rude and un-european in shabatz," said gospody ninitch, for such was the name in which the collector rejoiced. "indeed," quoth i, sitting at my ease on the divan, "there is no room for criticism. the turks now-a-days take some things from europe; but europe might do worse than adopt the divan more extensively; for, believe me, to an arriving traveller it is the greatest of all luxuries." here the servants entered with chibouques. "i certainly think," said he, "that no one would smoke a cigar who could smoke a chibouque." "and no man would sit on an oak chair who could sit on a divan:" so the gospody smiled and transferred his ample person to the still ampler divan. the barber now entered; for in the hurry of departure i had forgotten part of my toilette apparatus: but it was evident that i was the first frank who had ever been under his razor; for when his operations were finished, he seized my comb, and began to comb my whiskers backwards, as if they had formed part of a mussulman's beard. when i thought i was done with him, i resumed the conversation, but was speedily interrupted by something like a loud box on the ear, and, turning round my head, perceived that the cause of this sensation was the barber having, in his finishing touch, stuck an ivory ear-pick against my tympanum; but, calling for a wash-hand basin, i begged to be relieved from all further ministrations; so putting half a zwanziger on the face of the round pocket mirror which he proffered to me, he departed with a "_s'bogom_," or, "god be with you." the collector now accompanied me on a walk through the servian town, and emerging on a wide space, we discovered the fortress of shabatz, which is the quarter in which the remaining turks live, presenting a line of irregular trenches, of battered appearance, scarcely raised above the level of the surrounding country. the space between the town and the fortress is called the shabatzko polje, and in the time of the civil war was the scene of fierce combats. when the save overflows in spring, it is generally under water. crossing a ruinous wooden bridge over a wet ditch, we saw a rusty unserviceable brass cannon, which vain-gloriously assumed the prerogative of commanding the entrance. to the left, a citadel of four bastions, connected by a curtain, was all but a ruin. as we entered, a cafe, with bare walls and a few shabby turks smoking in it, completed, along with the dirty street, a picture characteristic of the fallen fortunes of islam in servia. "there comes the cadi," said the collector, and i looked out for at least one individual with turban of fine texture, decent robes, and venerable appearance; but a man of gigantic stature, and rude aspect, wearing a grey peasant's turban, welcomed us with undignified cordiality. we followed him down the street, and sometimes crossing the mud on pieces of wood, sometimes "putting one's foot in it," we reached a savage-looking timber kiosk, and, mounting a ladder, seated ourselves on the window ledge. there flowed the save in all its peaceful smoothness; looking out of the window, i perceived that the high rampart, on which the kiosk was constructed, was built at a distance of thirty or forty yards from the water, and that the intervening space was covered with boats, hauled up high and dry, and animated with the process of building and repairing the barges employed in the river trade. the kiosk, in which we were sitting, was a species of cafe, and it being ramadan time, we were presented with sherbet by a kahwagi, who, to judge by his look, was a eunuch. i was afterwards told that the turks remaining in the fortified town are so poor, that they had not a decent room to show me into. a turk, about fifty years of age, now entered. his habiliments were somewhere between decent and shabby genteel, and his voice and manners had that distinguished gentleness which wins--because it feels--its way. this was the disdar aga, the last relic of the wealthy turks of the place: for before the servian revolution shabatz had its twenty thousand osmanlis; and a tract of gardens on the other side of the _polje_, was pointed out as having been covered with the villas of the wealthy, which were subsequently burnt down. our conversation was restricted to a few general observations, as other persons were present, but the disdar aga promised to call on me on the following day. i was asked if i had been in seraievo.[2] i answered in the negative, but added, "i have heard so much of seraievo, that i desire ardently to see it. but i am afraid of the haiducks."[3] _cadi_. "and not without reason; for seraievo, with its delicious gardens, must be seen in summer. in winter the roads are free from haiducks, because they cannot hold out in the snow; but then seraievo, having lost the verdure and foliage of its environs, ceases to be attractive, except in its bazaars, for they are without an equal." _author_. "i always thought that the finest bazaar of turkey in europe, was that of adrianople." _cadi_. "ay, but not equal to seraievo; when you see the bosniacs, in their cleanly apparel and splendid arms walking down the bazaar, you might think yourself in the serai of a sultan; then all the esnafs are in their divisions like regiments of nizam." the disdar aga now accompanied me to the gate, and bidding me farewell, with graceful urbanity, re-entered the bastioned miniature citadel in which he lived almost alone. the history of this individual is singular: his family was cut to pieces in the dreadful scenes of 1806; and, when a mere boy, he found himself a prisoner in the servian camp. being thus without protectors, he was adopted by luka lasarevitch, the valiant lieutenant of kara georg, and baptized as a christian with the name of john, but having been reclaimed by the turks on the re-conquest of servia in 1813, he returned to the faith of his fathers. we now returned into the town, and there sat the same luka lasarevitch, now a merchant and town councillor, at the door of his warehouse, an octogenarian, with thirteen wounds on his body. going home, i asked the collector if the aga and luka were still friends. "to this very day," said he, "notwithstanding the difference of religion, the aga looks upon luka as his father, and luka looks upon the aga as his son." to those who have lived in other parts of turkey this account must appear very curious. i found that the aga was as highly respected by the christians as by the turks, for his strictly honourable character. we now paid a visit to the arch-priest, iowan paulovitch, a self-taught ecclesiastic: the room in which he received us was filled with books, mostly servian; but i perceived among them german translations. on asking him if he had heard any thing of english literature, he showed me translations into german of shakspeare, young's night thoughts, and a novel of bulwer. the greek secular clergy marry; and in the course of conversation it came out that his son was one of the young servians sent by the government to study mining-engineering, at schemnitz, in hungary. the church of the apostles st. peter and st. paul, in which he officiates, was built in 1828. i remarked that it had only a wooden bell tower, which had been afterwards erected in the church yard; no belfry existing in the building itself. the reason of this is, that, up to the period mentioned, the servians were unaccustomed to have bells sounded. our host provided most ample fare for supper, preceded by a glass of slivovitsa. we began with soup, rendered slightly acid with lemon juice, then came fowl, stewed with turnips and sugar. this was followed by pudding of almonds, raisins, and pancake. roast capon brought up the rear. a white wine of the country was served during supper, but along with dessert we had a good red wine of negotin, served in bohemian coloured glasses. i have been thus minute on the subject of food, for the dinners i ate at belgrade i do not count as servian, having been all in the german fashion. the wife of the collector sat at dinner, but at the foot of the table; a position characteristic of that of women in servia--midway between the graceful precedence of europe and the contemptuous exclusion of the east. after hand-washing, we returned to the divan, and while pipes and coffee were handed round, a noise in the court yard denoted a visiter, and a middle-aged man, with embroidered clothes, and silver-mounted pistols in his girdle, entered. this was the natchalnik, or local governor, who had come from his own village, two hours off, to pay his visit; he was accompanied by the two captains under his command, one of whom was a military dandy. his ample girdle was richly embroidered, out of which projected silver-mounted old fashioned pistols. his crimson shaksheers were also richly embroidered, and the corner of a gilt flowered cambric pocket handkerchief showed itself at his breast. his companion wore a different aspect, with large features, dusky in tint as those of a gipsy, and dressed in plain coarse blue clothes. he was presented to me as a man who had grown from boyhood to manhood to the tune of the whistling bullets of kara georg and his turkish opponents. after the usual salutations, the natchalnik began-"we have heard that gospody wellington has received from the english nation an estate for his distinguished services." _author_. "that is true; but the presentation took place a great many years ago." _natch_. "what is the age of gospody wellington?" _author_. "about seventy-five. he was born in 1769, the year in which napoleon and mohammed ali first saw the light." this seemed to awaken the interest of the party. the roughly-clad trooper drew in his chair, and leaning his elbow on his knees, opened wide a pair of expectant eyes; the natchalnik, after a long puff of his pipe, said, with some magisterial decision, "that was a moment when nature had her sleeves tucked up. i think our kara georg must also have been born about that time." _natch_. "is gospody wellington still in service?" _author_. "yes; he is commander-in-chief." _natch_. "well, god grant that his sons, and his sons' sons, may render as great services to the nation." our conversation was prolonged to a late hour in the evening, in which a variety of anecdotes were related of the ingenious methods employed by milosh to fill his coffers as rapidly as possible. mine host, taking a candle, then led me to my bedroom, a small carpeted apartment, with a german bed; the coverlet was of green satin, quilted, and the sheets were clean and fragrant; and i observed, that they were striped with an alternate fine and coarse woof. footnotes: [footnote 2: the capital of bosnia, a large and beautiful city, which is often called the damascus of the north.] [footnote 3: in this part of turkey in europe robbers, as well as rebels, are called haiducks: like the caterans of the highlands of scotland, they were merely held to be persons at war with the authority: and in the servian revolution, patriots, rebels, and robbers, were confounded in the common term of haiducks.] chapter xi. kaimak.--history of a renegade.--a bishop's house.--progress of education.--portrait of milosh.--bosnia and the bosniacs.--moslem fanaticism.--death of the collector. the fatigues of travelling procured me a sound sleep. i rose refreshed, and proceeded into the divan. the hostess then came forward, and before i could perceive, or prevent her object, she kissed my hand. "kako se spavali; dobro?"--"how have you slept? i hope you are refreshed," and other kindly inquiries followed on, while she took from the hand of an attendant a silver salver, on which was a glass of slivovitsa, a plate of rose marmalade, and a large bohemian cut crystal globular goblet of water, the contents of which, along with a chibouque, were the prelude to breakfast, which consisted of coffee and toast, and instead of milk we had rich boiled kaimak, as turkish clotted cream is called. i have always been surprised to find that this undoubted luxury, which is to be found in every town in turkey, should be unknown throughout the greater part of europe. after comfortably smoking another chibouque, and chatting about shabatz and the shabatzians, the collector informed me that the time was come for returning the visit of the natchalnik, and paying that of the bishop. the natchalnik received us in the konak of gospody iefrem, the brother of milosh, and our interview was in no respect different from a usual turkish visit. we then descended to the street; the sun an hour before its meridian shone brightly, but the centre of the broad street was very muddy, from the late rain; so we picked our steps with some care, until we arrived in the vicinity of the bridge, when i perceived the eunuch-looking coffee-keeper navigating the slough, accompanied by a mussulman in a red checked shawl turban.--"here is a man that wishes to make your acquaintance," said eunuch-face.--"i heard you were paying visits yesterday in the turkish quarter," said the strange figure, saluting me. i returned the salute, and addressed him in arabic; he answered in a strong egyptian accent. however, as the depth of the surrounding mud, and the glare of the sun, rendered a further colloquy somewhat inconvenient, we postponed our meeting until the evening. on our way to the bishop, i asked the collector what that man was doing there. _collector_. "his history is a singular one. you yesterday saw a turk, who was baptized, and then returned to islamism. this is a servian, who turned turk thirty years ago, and now wishes to be a christian again. he has passed most of that time in the distant parts of turkey, and has children grown up and settled there. he has come to me secretly, and declares his desire to be a christian again; but he is afraid the turks will kill him." _author_. "has he been long here?" _collector_. "two months. he went first into the turkish town; and having incurred their suspicions, he left them, and has now taken up his quarters in the khan, with a couple of horses and a servant." _author_. "what does he do?" _collector_. "he pretends to be a doctor, and cures the people; but he generally exacts a considerable sum before prescribing, and he has had disputes with people who say that they are not healed so quickly as they expect." _author_. "do you think he is sincere in wishing to be a christian again?" _collector_. "god knows. what can one think of a man who has changed his religion, but that no dependence can be placed on him? the turks are shy of him." we had now arrived at the house of the bishop, and were shown into a well-carpeted room, in the old turkish style, with the roof gilded and painted in dark colours, and an un-artistlike panorama of constantinople running round the cornice. i seated myself on an old-fashioned, wide, comfortable divan, with richly embroidered, but somewhat faded cushions, and, throwing off my shoes, tucked my legs comfortably under me. "this house," said the collector, "is a relic of old shabatz; most of the other houses of this class were burnt down. you see no german furniture here; tell me whether you prefer the turkish style, or the european." _author_. "in warm weather give me a room of this kind, where the sun is excluded, and where one can loll at ease, and smoke a narghile; but in winter i like to see a blazing fire, and to hear the music of a tea-urn." the bishop now entered, and we advanced to the door to meet him. i bowed low, and the rest of the company kissed his hand; he was a middle sized man, of about sixty, but frail from long-continued ill health, dressed in a furred pelisse, a dark blue body robe, and greek ecclesiastical cap of velvet, while from a chain hung round his neck was suspended the gold cross, distinctive of his rank. the usual refreshments of coffee, sweetmeats, &c. were brought in, not by servants, but by ecclesiastical novices. _bishop_. "i think i have seen you before?" _author_. "indeed, you have: i met your reverence at the house of gospody ilia in belgrade." _bishop_. "ay, ay," (trying to recollect;) "my memory sometimes fails me since my illness. did you stay long at belgrade?" _author_. "i remained to witness the cathedral service for the return of wucics and petronievitch. i assure you i was struck with the solemnity of the scene, and the deportment of the archbishop. as i do not understand enough of servian, his speech was translated to me word for word, and it seems to me that he has the four requisites of an orator,--a commanding presence, a pleasing voice, good thoughts, and good language." we then talked of education, on which the bishop said, "the civil and ecclesiastical authorities go hand in hand in the work. when i was a young man, a great proportion of the youth could neither read nor write: thanks to our system of national education, in a few years the peasantry will all read. in the towns the sons of those inhabitants who are in easy circumstances, are all learning german, history, and other branches preparatory to the course of the gymnasium of belgrade, which is the germ of a university." _author_. "i hope it will prosper; the slaavs of the middle ages did much for science."[4] _bishop_. "i assure you times are greatly changed with us; the general desire for education surprises and delights me." we now took our leave of the bishop, and on our way homewards called at a house which contained portraits of kara georg, milosh, michael, alexander, and other personages who have figured in servian history. i was much amused with that of milosh, which was painted in oil, altogether without _chiaro scuro_; but his decorations, button holes, and even a large mole on his cheek, were done with the most painful minuteness. in his left hand he held a scroll, on which was inscribed _ustav_, or constitution, his right hand was partly doubled a la finger post; it pointed significantly to the said scroll, the forefinger being adorned with a large diamond ring. on arriving at the collector's house, i found the aga awaiting me. this man inspired me with great interest. i looked upon him, residing in his lone tower, the last of a once wealthy and powerful race now steeped in poverty, as a sort of master of ravenswood in a wolf's crag. at first he was bland and ceremonious; but on learning that i had lived long in the interior of society in damascus and aleppo, and finding that the interest with which he inspired me was real and not assumed, he became expansive without lapsing into familiarity, and told me his sad tale, which i would place at the service of the gentle reader, could i forget the stronger allegiance i owe to the unsolicited confidence of an unfortunate stranger. when i spoke of the renegade, he pretended not to know whom i meant; but i saw, by a slight unconscious wink of his eye, that knowing him too well, he wished to see and hear no more of him. as he was rising to take leave, a step was heard creaking on the stairs, and on turning in the direction of the door, i saw the red and white checked turban of the renegade emerging from the banister; but no sooner did he perceive the aga, than, turning round again, down went the red checked turban out of sight. when the aga was gone, the collector gave me a significant look, and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe into a plate on the floor, said, "changed times, changed times, poor fellow; his salary is only 250 piastres a month, and his relations used to be little kings in shabatz; but the other fellows in the turkish quarter, although so wretchedly poor that they have scarcely bread to eat, are as proud and insolent as ever." _author_. "what is the reason of that?" _collector_. "because they are so near the bosniac frontier, where there is a large moslem population. the moslems of shabatz pay no taxes, either to the servian government or the sultan, for they are accounted _redif_, or militia, for which they receive a ducat a year from the sultan, as a returning fee. the christian peasants here are very rich; some of them have ten and twenty thousand ducats buried under the earth; but these impoverished bosniacs in the fortress are as proud and insolent as ever." _author_. "you say bosniacs! are they not turks?" _collector_. "no, the only turks here are the aga and the cadi; all the rest are bosniacs, the descendants of men of our own race and language, who on the turkish invasion accepted islamism, but retained the language, and many christian customs, such as saints' days, christian names, and in most cases monogamy." _author_. "that is very curious; then, perhaps, as they are not full moslems, they may be more tolerant of christians." _collector_. "the very reverse. the bosniac christians are not half so well off as the bulgarians, who have to deal with the real turks. the arch-priest will be here to dinner, and he will be able to give you some account of the bosniac christians. but bosnia is a beautiful country; how do you intend to proceed from here?" _author_. "i intend to go to vallievo and ushitza." _collector_. "he that leaves servia without seeing sokol, has seen nothing." _author_. "what is to be seen at sokol?" _collector_. "the most wonderful place in the world, a perfect eagle's eyrie. a whole town and castle built on the capital of a column of rock." _author_. "but i did not contemplate going there; so i must change my route: i took no letters for that quarter." _collector_. "leave all that to me; you will first go to losnitza, on the banks of the drina, and i will despatch a messenger to-night, apprising the authorities of your approach. when you have seen sokol, you will admit that it was worth the journey." the renegade having seen the aga clear off, now came to pay his visit, and the normal good-nature of the collector procured him a tolerant welcome. when we were left alone, the renegade began by abusing the moslems in the fortress as a set of scoundrels. "i could not live an hour longer among such rascals," said he, "and i am now in the khan with my servant and a couple of horses, where you must come and see me. i will give you as good a pipe of djebel tobacco as ever you smoked." _author_. "you must excuse me, i must set out on my travels to-morrow. you were in egypt, i believe." _renegade_. "i was long there; my two sons, and a married daughter, are in cairo to this day." _author_. "what do they do?" _renegade_. "my daughter is married, and i taught my sons all i know of medicine, and they practise it in the old way." _author_. "where did you study?" _renegade_ (tossing his head and smiling). "here, and there, and everywhere. i am no ilekim bashi; but i have an ointment that heals all bruises and sores in an incredibly short space of time." me gave a most unsatisfactory account of his return to turkey in europe; first to bosnia, or herzegovina, where he was, or pretended to be, physician to husreff mehmed pasha, and then to seraievo. when we spoke of hafiz pasha, of belgrade, he said, "i know him well, but he does not know me; i recollect him at carpout and diarbecr before the battle of nisib, when he had thirty or forty pashas under him. he could shoot at a mark, or ride, with the youngest man in the army." the collector now re-entered with the natchalnik and his captains, and the renegade took his leave, i regretting that i had not seen more of him; for a true recital of his adventures must have made an amusing chapter. "here is the captain, who is to escort you to ushitza," said the natchalnik, pointing to a muscular man at his left. "he will take you safe and sound." _author_. "i see he is a stout fellow. i would rather have him for a friend than meet him as an enemy. he has the face of an honest man, too." _natchalnik_. "i warrant you as safe in his custody, as if you were in that of gospody wellington." _author_. "you may rest assured that if i were in the custody of the duke of wellington, i should not reckon myself very safe. one of his offices is to take care of a tower, in which the queen locks up traitorous subjects. did you never hear of the tower of london?" _natchalnik_. "no; all we know of london is the wonderful bridge that goes under the water, where an army can pass from one side to the other, while the fleet lies anchored over their heads." the natchalnik now bid me farewell, and i gave my rendezvous to the captain for next morning. during the discussion of dinner, the arch-priest gave us an illustration of bosniac fanaticism: a few months ago a church at belina was about to be opened, which had been a full year in course of building, by virtue of a firman of the sultan; the moslems murmuring, but doing nothing. when finished, the bishop went to consecrate it; but two hours after sunset, an immense mob of moslems, armed with pickaxes and shovels, rased it to the ground, having first taken the cross and gospels and thrown them into a latrina. the bishop complained to the mutsellim, who imprisoned one or two of them, exacted a fine, which he put in his own pocket, and let them out next day; the ruins of the church remain _in statu quo_. the collector now produced some famous wine, that had been eleven years in bottle. we were unusually merry, and fell into toasts and speeches. i felt as if i had been his intimate friend for years, for he had not one atom of levantine "humbug" in his composition. poor fellow, little did he think, that in a few short weeks from this period his blood would flow as freely as the wine which he poured into my cup. next morning, on awaking, all the house was in a bustle: the sun shone brightly on the green satin coverlet of my bed, and a tap at the door announced the collector, who entered in his dressing gown with the apparatus of brandy and sweetmeats, and joined his favourable augury to mine for the day's journey. "you will have a rare journey," said the collector; "the country is a garden, the weather is clear, and neither hot nor cold. the nearer you get to bosnia, the more beautiful is the landscape." we each drank a thimbleful of slivovitsa, he to my prosperous journey, while i proposed health and long life to him; but, as the sequel showed, "_l'homme propose, et dieu dispose_." after breakfast, i bade madame ninitch adieu, and descended to the court-yard, where two carriages of the collector awaited us, our horses being attached behind. and now an eternal farewell to the worthy collector. at this time a conspiracy was organized by the obrenowitch faction, through the emigrants residing in hungary. they secretly furnished themselves with thirty-four or thirty-five hussar uniforms at pesth, bought horses, and having bribed the austrian frontier guard, passed the save with a trumpeter about a month after this period, and entering shabatz, stated that a revolution had broken out at belgrade, that prince kara georgevitch was murdered, and michael proclaimed, with the support of the cabinets of europe! the affrighted inhabitants knew not what to believe, and allowed the detachment to ride through the town. arrived at the government-house, the collector issued from the porch, to ask what they wanted, and received for answer a pistol-shot, which stretched him dead on the spot. the soi-disant austrian hussars subsequently attempted to raise the country, but, failing in this, were nearly all taken and executed. footnotes: [footnote 4: the first university in europe was that of prague. it was established some years before the university of paris, if i recollect right.] chapter xii. the banat of matchva.--losnitza.--feuds on the frontier.--enter the back-woods.--convent of tronosha.--greek festival.--congregation of peasantry.--rustic finery. through the richest land, forming part of the ancient banat of matchva, which was in the earlier periods of servian and hungarian history so often a source of conflict and contention, we approached distant grey hills, which gradually rose from the horizon, and, losing their indistinctness, revealed a chain so charmingly accidented, that i quickened my pace, as if about to enter a fairy region. thick turf covered the pasture lands; the old oak and the tender sapling diversified the plain. some clouds hung on the horizon, whose delicate lilac and fawn tints, forming a harmonizing contrast with the deep deep blue of the heavens, showed the transparency of the atmosphere, and brought healthful elevation of spirits. even the brutes bespoke the harmony of creation; for, singular to say, we saw several crows perched on the backs of swine! towards evening, we entered a region of cottages among gardens inclosed by bushes, trees, and verdant fences, with the rural quiet and cleanliness of an english village in the last century, lighted up by an italian sunset. having crossed the little bridge, a pandour, who was sitting under the willows, rose, came forward, and, touching his hat, presented the natchalnik's compliments, and said that he was instructed to conduct me to his house. losnitza is situated on the last undulation of the gutchevo range, as the mountains we had all day kept in view were called. so leaving the town on our left, we struck into a secluded path, which wound up the hill, and in ten minutes we dismounted at a house having the air of a turkish villa, which overlooked the surrounding country, and was entered by an enclosed court-yard with high walls. the natchalnik of losnitza was a grey-headed tall gaunt figure, who spoke very little; but as the bosniac frontier is subject to troubles he had been selected for his great personal courage, for he had served under kara georg from 1804.[5] _natchalnik_. "it is not an easy matter to keep things straight; the population on this side is all organized, so as to concentrate eight thousand men in a few hours. the bosniacs are all armed; and as the two populations detest each other cordially, and are separated only by the drina, the public tranquillity often incurs great danger: but whenever a crisis is at hand i mount my horse and go to mahmoud pasha at zwornik; and the affair is generally quietly settled with a cup of coffee." _author_. "ay, ay; as the arabs say, the burning of a little tobacco saves the burning of a great deal of powder. what is the population of zwornik?" _natchalnik_. "about twelve or fifteen thousand; the place has fallen off; it had formerly between thirty and forty thousand souls." _author_. "have you had any disputes lately?" _natchalnik_. "why, yes; great zwornik is on the bosniac side of the drina; but little zwornik on the servian side is also held by moslems. not long ago the men of little zwornik wished to extend their domain; but i planted six hundred men in a wood, and then rode down alone and warned them off. they treated me contemptuously; but as soon as they saw the six hundred men issuing from the wood they gave up the point: and mahmoud pasha admitted i was right; but he had been afraid to risk his popularity by preventive measures." the selamlik of the natchalnik was comfortably carpeted and fitted up, but no trace of european furniture was to be seen. the rooms of the collector at shabatz still smacked of the vicinity to austria; but here we were with the natives. dinner was preceded by cheese, onions, and slivovitsa as a _rinfresco_, and our beds were improvised in the turkish manner by mattresses, sheets, and coverlets, laid on the divans. may i never have a worse bed![6] next morning, on waking, i went into the kiosk to enjoy the cool fresh air, the incipient sunshine, and the noble prospect; the banat of matchva which we had yesterday traversed, stretched away to the westward, an ocean of verdure and ripe yellow fruits. "where is the drina?" said i to our host. "look downwards," said he; "you see that line of poplars and willows; there flows the drina, hid from view: the steep gardens and wooded hills that abruptly rise from the other bank are in bosnia." the town doctor now entered, a middle-aged man, who had been partly educated in dalmatia, and consequently spoke italian; he told us that his salary was â£40 a year; and that in consequence of the extreme cheapness of provisions he managed to live as well in this place as he could on the adriatic for treble the sum. other persons, mostly employes, now came to see us, and we descended to the town. the bazaar was open and paved with stone; but except its extreme cleanliness, it was not in the least different from those one sees in bulgaria and other parts of turkey in europe. up to 1835 many turks lived in losnitza; but at that time they all removed to bosnia; the mosque still remains, and is used as a grain magazine. a mud fort crowns the eminence, having been thrown up during the wars of kara georg, and might still be serviceable in case of hostile operations. before going to sokol the natchalnik persuaded me to take a highland ramble into the gutchevo range, and first visit tronosha, a large convent three hours off in the woods, which was to be on the following day the rendezvous of all the surrounding peasantry, in their holyday dresses, in order to celebrate the festival of consecration. at the appointed hour our host appeared, having donned his best clothes, which were covered with gold embroidery. his sabre and pistols were no less rich and curious, and he mounted a horse worth at least sixty or seventy pounds sterling. several other notables of losnitza, similarly broidered and accoutred, and mounted on caracoling horses, accompanied us; and we formed a cavalcade that would have astonished even mr. batty. ascending rapidly, we were soon lost in the woods, catching only now and then a view of the golden plain through the dark green oaks and pines. for full three hours our brilliant little party dashed up hill and down dale, through the most majestic forests, delightful to the gaze but unrelieved by a patch of cultivation, and miserably profitless to the commonwealth, till we came to a height covered with loose rocks and pasture. "there is tronosha," said the natchalnik, pulling up, and pointing to a tapering white spire and slender column of blue smoke that rose from a _cul-de-sac_ formed by the opposite hills, which, like the woods we had traversed, wore such a shaggy and umbrageous drapery, that with a slight transposition, i could exclaim, "si lupus essem, nollem alibi quam in _servia_ lupus esse!" a steep descent brought us to some meadows on which cows were grazing by the side of a rapid stream, and i felt the open apace a relief after the gloom of the endless forest. crossing the stream, we struck into the sylvan _cul-de-sac_, and arrived in a few minutes at an edifice with strong walls, towers, and posterns, that looked more like a secluded and fortified manor-house in the seventeenth century than a convent; for in more troubled times, such establishments, though tolerated by the old turkish government, were often subject to the unwelcome visits of minor marauders. a fine jolly old monk, with a powerful voice, welcomed the natchalnik at the gate, and putting his hand on his left breast, said to me, "_dobro doche gospody_!" (welcome, master!) we then, according to the custom of the country, went into the chapel, and, kneeling down, said our thanksgiving for safe arrival. i remarked, on taking a turn through the chapel and examining it minutely, that the pictures were all in the old byzantine style--crimson-faced saints looking up to golden skies. crossing the court, i looked about me, and perceived that the cloister was a gallery, with wooden beams supporting the roof, running round three sides of the building, the basement being built in stone, at one part of which a hollowed tree shoved in an aperture formed a spout for a stream of clear cool water. the igoumen, or superior, received us at the foot of the wooden staircase which ascended to the gallery. he was a sleek middle-aged man, with a new silk gown, and seemed out of his wits with delight at my arrival in this secluded spot, and taking me by the hand led me to a sort of seat of honour placed in a prominent part of the gallery, which seemed to correspond with the _makaa_ of saracenic architecture. no sooner had the igoumen gone to superintend the arrangements of the evening, than a shabbily dressed filthy priest, of such sinister aspect, that, to use a common phrase, "his looks would have hanged him," now came up, and in a fulsome eulogy welcomed me to the convent. he related how he had been born in syrmium, and had been thirteen years in bosnia; but i suspected that some screw was loose, and on making inquiry found that he had been sent to this retired convent in consequence of incorrigible drunkenness. the igoumen now returned, and gave the clerical lumnacivagabundus such a look that he skulked off on the instant. after coffee, sweetmeats, &c., we passed through the yard, and piercing the postern gate, unexpectedly came upon a most animated scene. a green glade that ran up to the foot of the hill, was covered with the preparations for the approaching festivities--wood was splitting, fires lighting, fifty or sixty sheep were spitted, pyramids of bread, dishes of all sorts and sizes, and jars of wine in wicker baskets were mingled with throat-cut fowls, lying on the banks of the stream aide by side with pigs at their last squeak. dinner was served in the refectory to about twenty individuals, including the monks and our party. the igoumen drank to the health of the prince, and then of wucics and petronievitch, declaring that thanks were due to god and those european powers who had brought about their return. the shabby priest, with the gallows look, then sang a song of his own composition, on their return. not being able to understand it, i asked my neighbour what he thought of the song. "why," said he, "the lay is worthy of the minstrel--doggrel and dissonance." some old national songs were sung, and i again asked my neighbour for a criticism on the poetry. "that last song," said he, "is like a river that flows easily and naturally from one beautiful valley to another." in the evening we went out, and the countless fires lighting up the lofty oaks had a most pleasing effect. the sheep were by this time cut up, and lying in fragments, around which the supper parties were seated cross-legged. other peasants danced slowly, in a circle, to the drone of the somniferous servian bagpipe. when i went to bed, the assembled peasantry were in the full tide of merriment, but without excess. the only person somewhat the worse of the bottle was the threadbare priest with the gallows look. i fell asleep with a low confused murmur of droning bagpipes, jingling drinking cups, occasional laughter, and other noises. i dreamed, i know not what absurdities; suddenly a solemn swelling chorus of countless voices gently interrupted my slumbers--the room was filled with light, and the sun on high was beginning to begild an irregular parallelogram in the wainscot, when i started up, and hastily drew on some clothes. going out to the _makaa_, i perceived yesterday's assembly of merry-making peasants quadrupled in number, and all dressed in their holiday costume, thickset on their knees down the avenue to the church, and following a noble old hymn, i sprang out of the postern, and, helping myself with the grasp of trunks of trees, and bared roots and bushes, clambered up one of the sides of the hollow, and attaining a clear space, looked down with wonder and pleasure on the singular scene. the whole pit, of this theatre of verdure appeared covered with a carpet of white and crimson, for such were the prevailing colours of the rustic costumes. when i thought of the trackless solitude of the sylvan ridges round me, i seemed to witness one of the early communions of christianity, in those ages when incense ascended to the olympic deities in gorgeous temples, while praise to the true god rose from the haunts of the wolf, the lonely cavern, or the subterranean vault. when church service was over i examined the dresses more minutely. the upper tunic of the women was a species of surtout of undyed cloth, bordered with a design of red cloth of a liner description. the stockings in colour and texture resembled those of persia, but were generally embroidered at the ankle with gold and silver thread. after the mid-day meal we descended, accompanied by the monks. the lately crowded court-yard was silent and empty. "what," said i, "all dispersed already?" the superior smiled, and said nothing. on going out of the gate, i paused in a state of slight emotion. the whole assembled peasantry were marshalled in two rows, and standing uncovered in solemn silence, so as to make a living avenue to the bridge. the igoumen then publicly expressed the pleasure my visit had given to the people, and in their name thanked me, and wished me a prosperous journey, repeating a phrase i had heard before: "god be praised that servia has at length seen the day that strangers come from afar to see and know the people!" i took off my fez, and said, "do you know, father igoumen, what has given me the most pleasure in the course of my visit?" _ig_. "i can scarcely guess." _author_. "i have seen a large assembly of peasantry, and not a trace of poverty, vice, or misery; the best proof that both the civil and ecclesiastical authorities do their duty." the igoumen, smiling with satisfaction, made a short speech to the people. i mounted my horse; the convent bells began to toll as i waved my hand to the assembly, and "sretnj poot!" (a prosperous journey!) burst from a thousand tongues. the scene was so moving that i could scarcely refrain a tear. clapping spurs to my horse i cantered over the bridge and gave him his will of the bridle till the steepness of the ascent compelled a slower pace. footnotes: [footnote 5: servia is divided into seventeen provinces, each governed by a natchalnik, whose duty it is to keep order and report to the minister of war and interior. he has of course no control over the legal courts of law attached to each provincial government; he has a cashier and a secretary, and each province is divided into cantons (sres), over each of which a captain rules. the average population of a province is 50,000 souls, and there are generally three cantons in a province, which are governed by captains.] [footnote 6: whether from the climate or superior cleanliness, there are certainly much fewer fleas in servia than in turkey; and i saw other vermin only once.] chapter xiii. romantic sylvan scenery.--patriarchal simplicity of manners.--krupena,--sokol.--its extraordinary position.--wretched town.--alpine scenery.--cool reception.--valley of the rogatschitza. words fail me to describe the beauty of the road from tronosha to krupena. the heights and distances, without being alpine in reality, were sufficiently so to an eye unpractised in measuring scenery of the highest class; but in all the softer enchantments nature had revelled in prodigality. the gloom of the oak forest was relieved and broken by a hundred plantations of every variety of tree that the climate would bear, and every hue, from the sombre evergreen to the early suspicions of the yellow leaf of autumn. even the tops of the mountains were free from sterility, for they were capped with green as bright, with trees as lofty, and with pasture as rich, as that of the valleys below. the people, too, were very different from the inhabitants of belgrade, where political intrigue, and want of the confidence which sincerity inspires, paralyze social intercourse. but the men of the back-woods, neither poor nor barbarous, delighted me by the patriarchal simplicity of their manners, and the poetic originality of their language. even in gayer moments i seemed to witness the sweet comedy of nature, in which man is ludicrous from his peculiarities, but "is not yet ridiculous from the affectations and assumptions of artificial life." half-way to krupena we reposed at a brook, where the carpets were laid out and we smoked a pipe. a curious illustration occurred here of the abundance of wood in servia. a boy, after leading a horse into the brook, tugged the halter and led the unwilling horse out of the stream again. "let him drink, let him drink his fill," said a woman; "if everything else must be paid with gold, at least wood and water cost nothing." mounting our horses again, we were met by six troopers bearing the compliments of the captain of krupena, who was awaiting us with twenty-two or three irregular cavalry on an eminence. we both dismounted and-went through the ceremony of public complimenting, both evidently enjoying the fun; he the visit of an illustrious stranger, and i the formality of a military reception. i perceived in a moment that this captain, although a good fellow, was fond of a little fuss; so i took him by the hand, made a turn across the grass, cast a nonchalant look on his troop, and condescended to express my approbation of their martial bearing. true it is that they were men of rude and energetic aspect, very fairly mounted. after patronizing him with a little further chat and compliment we remounted; and i perceived krupena at the distance of about a mile, in the middle of a little plain surrounded by gardens; but the neighbouring hills were here and there bare of vegetation. some of the troopers in front sang a sort of chorus, and now and then a fellow to show off his horse, would ride _a la djereed_, and instead of flinging a dart, would fire his pistols. others joined us, and our party was swelled to a considerable cavalcade as we entered the village, where the peasants were drawn up in a row to receive me. their captain then led the way up the stairs of his house to a chardak, or wooden balcony, on which was a table laid out with flowers. the elders of the village now came separately, and had some conversation: the priest on entering laid a melon on the table, a usual method of showing civility in this part of the country. one of the attendant crowd was a man from montenegro, who said he was a house-painter. he related that he was employed by mahmoud pasha, of zwornik, to paint one of the rooms in his house; when he had half accomplished his task, the dispute about the domain of little zwornik arose, on which he and his companion, a german, were thrown into prison, being accused of being a servian captain in disguise. they were subsequently liberated, but shot at; the ball going through the leg of the narrator. this is another instance of the intense hatred the servians and the bosniac moslems bear to each other. it must be remarked, that the christians, in relating a tale, usually make the most of it. the last dish of our dinner was a roast lamb, served on a large circular wooden board, the head being split in twain, and laid on the top of the pyramid of dismembered parts. we had another jovial evening, in which the wine-cup was plied freely, but not to an extravagant excess, and the usual toasts and speeches were drunk and made. even in returning to rest, i had not yet done with the pleasing testimonies of welcome. on entering the bed-chamber, i found many fresh and fragrant flowers inserted in the chinks of the wainscot. krupena was originally exclusively a moslem town, and a part of the old bazaar remains. the original inhabitants, who escaped the sword, went either to sokol or into bosnia. the hodgia, or moslem schoolmaster, being on some business at krupena, came in the morning to see us. his dress was nearly all in white, and his legs bare from the knee. he told me that the vayvode of sokol had a curious mental malady. having lately lost a son, a daughter, and a grandson, he could no longer smoke, for when his servant entered with a pipe, he imagined he saw his children burning in the tobacco. during the whole day we toiled upwards, through woods and wilds of a character more rocky than that of the previous day, and on attaining the ridge of the gutchevo range, i looked down with astonishment on sokol, which, though lying at our feet, was yet perched on a lone fantastic crag, which exactly suited the description of the collector of shabatz,--"a city and castle built on the capital of a column of rock." beyond it was a range of mountains further in bosnia; further on, another outline, and then another, and another. i at once felt that, as a tourist, i had broken fresh ground, that i was seeing scenes of grandeur unknown to the english public. it was long since i had sketched. i instinctively seized my book, but threw it away in despair, and, yielding to the rapture of the moment, allowed my eyes to mount step after step of this enchanted alpine ladder. we now, by a narrow, steep, and winding path cut on the face of a precipice, descended to sokol, and passing through a rotting wooden bazaar, entered a wretched khan, and ascending a sort of staircase, were shown into a room with dusty mustabahs; a greasy old cushion, with the flock protruding through its cover, was laid down for me, but i, with polite excuses, preferred the bare board to this odious flea-hive. the more i declined the cushion, the more pressing became the khan-keeper that i should carry away with me some reminiscence of sokol. finding that his upholstery was not appreciated, the khan-keeper went to the other end of the apartment, and began to make a fire for coffee; for this being ramadan time, all the fires were out, and most of the people were asleep. meanwhile the captain sent for the disdar aga. i offered to go into the citadel, and pay him a visit, but the captain said, "you have no idea how sensitive these people are: even now they are forming all sorts of conjectures as to the object of your visit; we must, therefore, take them quietly in their own way, and do nothing to alarm them. in a few minutes the disdar aga will be here; you can then judge, by the temper he is in, of the length of your stay, and the extent to which you wish to carry your curiosity." i admitted that the captain was speaking sense, and waited patiently till the aga made his appearance. footsteps were heard on the staircase, and the mutsellim entered,--a turk, about forty-five years of age, who looked cross, as most men are when called from a sound sleep. his fez was round as a wool-bag, and looked as if he had stuffed a shawl into it before putting it on, and his face and eyes had something of the old mongol or tartar look. he was accompanied by a bosniac, who was very proud and insolent in his demeanour. after the usual compliments, i said, "i have seen some countries and cities, but no place so curious as sokol. i left belgrade on a tour through the interior, not knowing of its existence. otherwise i would have asked letters of hafiz pasha to you: for, intending to go to nish, he gave me a letter to the pasha there. but the people of this country having advised me not to miss the wonder of servia, i have come, seduced by the account of its beauty, not doubting of your good reception of strangers:" on which i took out the letter of hafiz pasha, the direction of which he read, and then he said, in a husky voice which became his cross look,-"i do not understand your speech; if you have seen belgrade, you must find sokol contemptible. as for your seeing the citadel, it is impossible; for the key is with the disdar aga, and he is asleep, and even if you were to get in, there is nothing to be seen." after some further conversation, in the course of which i saw that it would be better not to attempt "to catch the tartar," i restricted myself to taking a survey of the town. continuing our walk in the same direction as that by which we entered, we completed the threading of the bazaar, which was truly abominable, and arrived at the gate of the citadel, which was open; so that the story of the key and the slumbers of the disdar aga was all fudge. i looked in, but did not enter. there are no new works, and it is a castle such as those one sees on the rhine; but its extraordinary position renders it impregnable in a country impracticable for artillery. although blockaded in the time of the revolution, and the moslem garrison reduced to only seven men, it never was taken by the servians; although belgrade, ushitza, and all the other castles, had fallen into their hands. close to the castle is a mosque in wood, with a minaret of wood, although the finest stone imaginable is in abundance all around. the mutsellim opened the door, and showed me the interior, with blank walls and a faded carpet, opposite the moharrem. he would not allow me to go up the minaret, evidently afraid i would peep over into the castle. retracing our steps i perceived a needle-shaped rock that overlooked the abyss under the fortress, so taking off my boots, i scrambled up and attained the pinnacle; but the view was so fearful, that, afraid of getting dizzy, i turned to descend, but found it a much more dangerous affair than the ascent; at length by the assistance of paul i got down to the mutsellim, who was sitting impatiently on a piece of rock, wondering at the unaccountable englishman. i asked him what he supposed to be the height of the rock on which the citadel was built, above the level of the valley below. "what do i know of engineering?" said he, taking me out of hearing: "i confess i do not understand your object. i hear that on the road you have been making inquiries as to the state of bosnia: what interest can england have in raising disturbances in that country?" "the same interest that she has in producing political disorder in one of the provinces of the moon. in some semi-barbarous provinces of hungary, people confound political geography with political intrigue. in aleppo, too, i recollect standing at the bab-el-nasr, attempting to spell out an inscription recording its erection, and i was grossly insulted and called a mehendis (engineer); but you seem a man of more sense and discernment." "well, you are evidently not a _chapkun_. there is nothing more to be seen in sokol. had it not been ramadan we should have treated you better, be your intentions good or bad. i wish you a pleasant journey; and if you wish to arrive at liubovia before night-fall the sooner you set out the better, for the roads are not safe after dark." we now descended by paths like staircases cut in the rocks to the valley below. paul dismounted in a fright from his horse, and led her down; but my long practice of riding in the druse country had given me an easy indifference to roads that would have appalled me before my residence there. when we got a little way along the valley, i looked back, and the view from below was, in a different style, as remarkable as that from above. sokol looked like a little castle of edinburgh placed in the clouds, and a precipice on the other side of the valley presented a perpendicular stature of not less than five hundred feet. a few hours' travelling through the narrow valley of the bogatschitza brought us to the bank of the drina, where, leaving the up-heaved monuments of a chaotic world, we bade adieu to the tremendous, and again saluted the beautiful. chapter xiv. the drina.--liubovia.--quarantine station.--derlatcha.--a servian beauty.--a lunatic priest.--sorry quarters.--murder by brigands. the save is the largest tributary of the danube, and the drina is the largest tributary of the save, but it is not navigable; no river scenery, however, can possibly be prettier than that of the drina; as in the case of the upper danube from linz to vienna, the river winds between precipitous banks tufted with wood, but it was tame after the thrilling enchantments of sokol. at one place a roman causeway ran along the river, and we were told that a roman bridge crossed a tributary of the drina in this neighbourhood, which to this day bears the name of latinski tiupria, or latin bridge. at liubovia the hills receded, and the valley was about half a mile wide, consisting of fine meadow land with thinly scattered oaks, athwart which the evening sun poured its golden floods, suggesting pleasing images of abundance without effort. this part of servia is a wilderness, if you will, so scant is it of inhabitants, so free from any thing like inclosures, or fields, farms, labourers, gardens, or gardeners; and yet it is, and looks a garden in one place, a trim english lawn and park in another: you almost say to yourself, "the man or house cannot be far off: what lovely and extensive grounds, where can the hall or castle be hid?"[7] liubovia is the quarantine station on the high road from belgrade to seraievo. a line of buildings, parlatorio, magazines, and lodging-houses, faced the river. the director would fain have me pass the night, but the captain of derlatcha had received notice of our advent, and we were obliged to push on, and rested only for coffee and pipes. the director was a servian from the austrian side of the danube, and spoke german. he told me that three thousand individuals per annum performed quarantine, passing from bosnia to sokol and belgrade, and that the principal imports were hides, chestnuts, zinc, and iron manufactures from the town of seraievo. on the opposite bank of the river was a wooden bosniac guard-house. remounting our horses after sunset, we continued along the drina, now dubiously illuminated by the chill pallor of the rising moon, while hill and dale resounded with the songs of our men. no sooner had one finished an old metrical legend of the days of stephan the powerful and lasar the good, than another began a lay of kara georg, the "william tell" of these mountains. sometimes when we came to a good echo the pistols were fired off; at one place the noise had aroused a peasant, who came running across the grass to the road crying out, "o good men, the night is advancing: go no further, but tarry with me: the stranger will have a plain supper and a hard couch, but a hearty welcome." we thanked him for his proffer, but held on. at about ten o'clock we entered a thick dark wood, and after an ascent of a quarter of an hour emerged upon a fine open lawn in front of a large house with lights gleaming in the windows. the ripple of the drina was no longer audible, but we saw it at some distance below us, like a cuirass of polished steel. as we entered the inclosure we found the house in a bustle. the captain, a tall strong corpulent man of about forty years of age, came forward and welcomed me. "i almost despaired of your coming to-night," said he; "for on this ticklish frontier it is always safer to terminate one's journey by sunset. the rogues pass so easily from one side of the water to the other, that it is difficult to clear the country of them." he then led me into the house, and going through a passage, entered a square room of larger dimensions than is usual in the rural parts of servia. a good turkey carpet covered the upper part of the room, which was fenced round by cushions placed against the wall, but not raised above the level of the floor. the wall of the lower end of the room had a row of strong wooden pegs, on which were hung the hereditary and holyday clothes of the family, for males and females. furs, velvets, gold embroidery, and silver mounted bosniac pistols, guns, and carbines elaborately ornamented. the captain, who appeared to be a plain, simple, and somewhat jolly sort of man, now presented me to his wife, who came from the austrian aide of the save, and spoke german. she seemed, and indeed was, a trim methodical housewife, as the order of her domestic arrangements clearly showed. another female, whom i afterwards learned to be the wife of an individual of the neighbourhood who was absent, attracted my attention. her age was about four and twenty, when the lines of thinking begin to mingle with those of early youth. in fact, from her tint i saw that she would soon be _passata_: her features too were by no means classical or regular, and yet she had unquestionably some of that super-human charm which raphael sometimes infused into his female figures, as in the st. cecilia. as i repeated and prolonged my gaze, i felt that i had seen no eyes in belgrade like those of the beauty of the drina, who reminded me of the highest characteristic of expression--"a spirit scarcely disguised enough in the flesh." the presence of a traveller from an unknown country seemed to fill her with delight; and her wonder was childish, as if i had come from some distant constellation in the firmament. next day, the father of the captain made his appearance. the same old man, whom i had met at palesh, and who had asked me, "if the king of my country lived in a strong castle?" we dined at mid-day by fine weather, the windows of the principal apartments being thrown open, so as to have the view of the valley, which was here nearly as wide as at liubovia, but with broken ground. for the first time since leaving belgrade we dined, not at an european table, but squatted round a sofra, a foot high, in the eastern manner, although we ate with knives and forks. the cookery was excellent; a dish of stewed lamb being worthy of any table in the world. our host, the captain, never having seen ushitza, offered to accompany me thither; so we started early in the afternoon, having the drina still on our right, and bosniac villages, from time to time visible, and pretty to look at, but i should hope somewhat cleaner than sokol. on arrival at bashevitza the elders of the village stood in a row to receive us close to the house of conciliation. i perceived a mosque near this place, and asked if it was employed for any purpose. "no," said the captain, "it is empty. the turks prayed in it, after their own fashion, to that god who is theirs and ours; and the house of god should not be made a grain magazine, as in many other turkish villages scattered throughout servia." at this place a number of wild ducks were visible, perched on rocks in the drina, but were very shy; only once did one of our men get within shot, which missed; his gun being an old turkish one, like most of the arms in this country, which are sometimes as dangerous to the marksman as to the mark. towards evening we quitted the lovely drina, which, a little higher up, is no longer the boundary between servia and bosnia, being entirely within the latter frontier, and entered the vale of rogatschitza, watered by a river of that name, which was crossed by an ancient servian bridge, with pointed arches of admirable proportions. the village where we passed the night was newly settled, the main street being covered with turf, a sign that few houses or traffic exist here. the khan was a hovel; but while it was swept out, and prepared for us, i sat down with the captain on a shopboard, in the little bazaar, where coffee was served. a priest, with an emaciated visage, sore eyes, and a distracted look, came up, and wished me good evening, and began a lengthened tale of grievances. i asked the khan-keeper who he was, and received for answer that he was a greek priest from bosnia, who had hoarded some money, and had been squeezed by the moslem tyrant of his village, which drove him mad. confused ejaculations, mingled with sighs, fell from him, as if he supposed his story to be universally known. "sit down, good man," said i, "and tell me your tale, for i am a stranger, and never heard it before. tell it me, beginning with the beginning, and ending with the end." "bogami gospody," said the priest, wiping the copious tears, "i was once the happiest man in bosnia; the sun never rose without my thanking god for having given me so much peace and happiness: but ali kiahya, where i lived, received information that i had money hid. one day his momkes took me before him. my appeals for mercy and justice were useless. i was thrown down on my face, and received 617 strokes on my soles, praying for courage to hold out. at the 618th stroke my strength of mind and body failed, and i yielded up all my money, seven hundred dollars, to preserve my life. for a whole year i drank not a drop of wine, nothing but brandy, brandy, brandy." here the priest sobbed aloud. my heart was wrung, but i was in no condition to assist him; so i bade him be of good cheer, and look on his misfortune as a gloomy avenue to happier and brighter days. we slept on hay, put under our carpets and pillows, this being the first time since leaving belgrade that we did not sleep in sheets. we next day ascended the rogatschitza river to its source, and then, by a long ascent through pines and rocks, attained the parting of the waters.[8] leaving the basin of the drina, we descended to that of the morava by a steep road, until we came to beautifully rich meadows, which are called the ushitkza luka, or meadows, which are to this day a debatable ground for the moslem inhabitants of ushitza, and the servian villages in the neighbourhood. from here to ushitza the road is paved, but by whom we could not learn. the stones were not large enough to warrant the belief of its being a roman causeway, and it is probably a relic of the servian empire. footnotes: [footnote 7: on my return from servia, i found that the author of eothen had recorded a similar impression derived from the tartar journey on the high road from belgrade towards constantinople: but the remark is much more applicable to the sylvan beauty of the interior of servia.] [footnote 8: after seeing ushitza, the captain, who accompanied me, returned to his family, at derlatcha, and, i lament to say, that at this place he was attacked by the robbers, who, in summer, lurk in the thick woods on the two frontiers. the captain galloped off, but his two servants were killed on the spot.] chapter xv. arrival at ushitza.--wretched streets.--excellent khan.--turkish vayvode.--a persian dervish.--relations of moslems and christians.--visit the castle.--bird's eye view. before entering ushitza we had a fair prospect of it from a gentle eminence. a castle, in the style of the middle ages, mosque minarets, and a church spire, rose above other objects; each memorializing the three distinct periods of servian history: the old feudal monarchy, the turkish occupation, and the new principality. we entered the bazaars, which were rotting and ruinous, the air infected with the loathsome vapours of dung-hills, and their putrescent carcases, tanpits with green hides, horns, and offal: here and there a hideous old rat showed its head at some crevice in the boards, to complete the picture of impurity and desolation. strange to say, after this ordeal we put up at an excellent khan, the best we had seen in servia, being a mixture of the german wirthshaus, and the italian osteria, kept by a dalmatian, who had lived twelve years at scutari in albania. his upper room was very neatly furnished and new carpeted. in the afternoon we went to pay a visit to the vayvode, who lived among gardens in the upper town, out of the stench of the bazaars. arrived at the house we mounted a few ruined steps, and passing through a little garden fenced with wooden paling, were shown into a little carpeted kiosk, where coffee and pipes were presented, but not partaken of by the turks present, it being still ramadan. the vayvode was an elderly man, with a white turban and a green benish, having weak eyes, and a alight hesitation in his speech; but civil and good-natured, without any of the absurd suspicions of the mutsellim of sokol. he at once granted me permission to see the castle, with the remark, "your seeing it can do us no good and no harm, belgrade castle is like a bazaar, any one can go out and in that likes." in the course of conversation he told us that ushitza is the principal remaining settlement of the moslems in servia; their number here amounting to three thousand five hundred, while there are only six hundred servians, making altogether a population of somewhat more than four thousand souls. the vayvode himself spoke turkish on this occasion; but the usual language at sokol is bosniac (the same as servian). we now took our leave of the vayvode, and continued ascending the same street, composed of low one-storied houses, covered with irregular tiles, and inclosed with high wooden palings to secure as much privacy as possible for the harems. the palings and gardens ceased; and on a terrace built on an open space stood a mosque, surrounded by a few trees; not cypresses, for the climate scarce allows of them, but those of the forests we had passed. the portico was shattered to fragments, and remained as it was at the close of the revolution. close by, is a turbieh or saint's tomb, but nobody could tell me to whom or at what period it was erected. within a little inclosed garden i espied a strangely dressed figure, a dark-coloured dervish, with long glossy black hair. he proved to be a persian, who had travelled all over the east. without the conical hat of his order, the dervish would have made a fine study for a neapolitan brigand; but his manners were easy, and his conversation plausible, like those of his countrymen, which form as wide a contrast to the silent hauteur of the turk, and the rude fanaticism of the bosniac, as can well be imagined. his servant, a withered baboon-looking little fellow, in the same dress, now made his appearance and presented coffee. _author_. "who would have expected to see a persian on the borders of bosnia? you dervishes are great travellers." _dervish_. "you ingleez travel a great deal more; not content with frengistan, you go to hind, and sind, and yemen.[9] the first englishman i ever saw, was at meshed, (south-east of the caspian,) and now i meet you in roumelly." _author_. "do you intend to go back?" _dervish_. "i am in the hands of allah talaa. these good bosniacs here have built me this house, and given me this garden. they love me, and i love them." _author_. "i am anxious to see the mosque, and mount the minaret if it be permitted, but i do not know the custom of the place. a frank enters mosques in constantinople, cairo, and aleppo." _dervish_. "you are mistaken; the mosques of aleppo are shut to franks." _author_. "pardon me; franks are excluded from the mosque of zekerieh in aleppo, but not from the osmanieh, and the adelieh." _dervish_. "there is the muezzin; i dare say he will make no difficulty." the muezzin, anxious for his backshish, made no scruple; and now some moslems entered, and kissed the hand of the dervish. when the conversation became general, one of them told me, in a low tone, that he gave all that he got in charity, and was much liked. the dervish cut some flowers, and presented each of us with one. the muezzin now looked at his watch, and gave me a wink, expressive of the approach of the time for evening prayer; so i followed him into the church, which had bare white-washed walls with nothing to remark; and then taking my hand, he led me up the dark and dismal spiral staircase to the top of the minaret; on emerging on the balcony of which, we had a general view of the town and environs. ushitza lies in a narrow valley surrounded by mountains. the dietina, a tributary of the morava, traverses the town, and is crossed by two elegantly proportioned, but somewhat ruinous, bridges. the principal object in the landscape is the castle, built on a picturesque jagged eminence, separated from the precipitous mountains to the south only by a deep gully, through which the dietina struggles into the valley. the stagnation of the art of war in turkey has preserved it nearly as it must have been some centuries ago. in europe, feudal castles are complete ruins; in a country such as this, where contests are of a guerilla character, they are neglected, but neither destroyed nor totally abandoned. the centre space in the valley is occupied by the town itself, which shows great gaps; whole streets which stood here before the servian revolution, have been turned into orchards. the general view is pleasing enough; for the castle, although not so picturesque as that of sokol, affords fine materials for a picture; but the white-washed servian church, the fac simile of everyone in hungary, rather detracts from the external interest of the view. in the evening the vayvode sent a message by his pandour, to say that he would pay me a visit along with the agas of the town, who, six in number, shortly afterwards came. it being now evening, they had no objection to smoke; and as they sat round the room they related wondrous things of ushitza towards the close of the last century, which being the entre-pot between servia and bosnia, had a great trade, and contained then twelve thousand houses, or about sixty thousand inhabitants; so i easily accounted for the gaps in the middle of the town. the vayvode complained bitterly of the inconveniencies to which the quarantine subjected them in restricting the free communication with the neighbouring province; but he admitted that the late substitution of a quarantine of twenty-four hours, for one of ten days as formerly, was a great alleviation; "but even this," added the vayvode, "is a hindrance: when there was no quarantine, ushitza was every monday frequented by thousands of bosniacs, whom even twenty-four hours' quarantine deter." i asked him if the people understood turkish or arabic, and if preaching was held. he answered, that only he and a few of the agas understood turkish,--that the mollah was a deeply-read man, who said the prayers in the mosque in arabic, as is customary everywhere; but that there was no preaching, since the people only knew their prayers in arabic, but could not understand a sermon, and spoke nothing but bosniac. i think that somebody told me that vaaz, or preaching, is held in the bosniac language at seraievo. but my memory fails me in certainty on this point. after a pleasant chat of about an hour they went away. our beds were, as the ingenious mr. pepys says, "good, but lousy." next day, the servian natchalnik, who, on my arrival, had been absent at topola with the prince, came to see me; he was a middle-aged man, with most perfect self-possession, polite without familiarity or effort to please; he had more of the manner of a moslem grandee, than of a christian subject of the sultan. _natchalnik_. "believe me, the people are much pleased that men of learning travel through the country; it is a sign that we are not forgotten in europe; thank god and the european powers, that we are now making progress." _author_. "servia is certainly making progress; there can be no spectacle more delightful to a rightly constituted mind, than that of a hopeful young nation approaching its puberty. you servians are in a considerable minority here in ushitza. i hope you live on good terms with the moslems." _natchalnik_. "yes, on tolerable terms; but the old ones, who remember the former abject position of the christians, cannot reconcile themselves to my riding on horseback through the bazaars, and get angry when the servians sing in the woods, or five off muskets during a rejoicing." the vayvode now arrived with a large company of moslems, and we proceeded on foot to see the castle, our road being mostly through those gardens, on which the old town stood, and following the side of the river, to the spot where the high banks almost close in, so as to form a gorge. we ascended a winding path, and entered the gate, which formed the outlet of a long, gloomy, and solidly built passage. a group of armed militia men received us as we entered, and on regaining the daylight within the walls, we saw nothing but the usual spectacle of crumbling crenellated towers, abandoned houses, rotten planks, and unserviceable dismounted brass guns. the doujou, or keep, was built on a detached rock, connected by an old wooden bridge. the gate was strengthened with heavy nails, and closed by a couple of enormous old fashioned padlocks. the vayvode gave us a hint not to ask a sight of the interior, by stating that it was only opened at the period of inspection of the imperial commissioner. the bridge which overlooked the romantic gorge,--the rocks here rising precipitately from both sides of the dietina,--seemed the favourite lounge of the garrison, for a little kiosk of rude planks had been knocked up; carpets were laid out; the vayvode invited us to repose a little after our steep ascent; pipes and coffee were produced. i remarked that the castle must have suffered severely in the revolution. "this very place," said the vayvode, "was the scene of the severest conflict. the turks had twenty-one guns, and the servians seven. so many were killed, that that bank was filled up with dead bodies." "i remember it well," said a toothless, lisping old turk, with bare brown legs, and large feet stuck in a pair of new red shining slippers: "that oval tower has not been opened for a long time. if any one were to go in, his head would be cut off by an invisible hangiar." i smiled, but was immediately assured by several by-standers that it was a positive fact! our party, swelled by fresh additions, all well armed, that made us look like a large body of haiducks going on a marauding expedition, now issued by a gate in the castle, opposite to that by which i entered, and began to toil up the hill that overlooks ushitza, in order to have a bird's-eye view of the whole town and valley. on our way up, the natchalnik told me, that although long resident here, he had never seen the interior of the castle, and that i was the first christian to whom its gates had been opened since the revolution. the old vayvode, notwithstanding his cumbrous robes, climbed as briskly as any of us to the detached fort on the peak of the hill, whence we looked down on ushitza and all its environs; but i was disappointed in the prospect, the objects being too much below the level of the eye. the landscape was spotty. ushitza, instead of appearing a town, looked like a straggling assemblage of cottages and gardens. the best view is that below the bridge, looking to the castle. footnotes: [footnote 9: this is a phrase, and had no relation to the occupation of sind or aden.] chapter xvi. poshega.--the river morava.--arrival at csatsak.--a viennese doctor.--project to ascend the kopaunik.--visit the bishop.--ancient cathedral church.--greek mass.--karanovatz.--emigrant priest.--albania disorders.--salt mines. on leaving ushitza, the natchalnik accompanied me with a cavalcade of twenty or thirty christians, a few miles out of the town. the afternoon was beautiful; the road lay through hilly ground, and after two hours' riding, we saw poshega in the middle of a wide level plain; after descending to which, we crossed the scrapesh by an elegant bridge of sixteen arches, and entering the village, put up at a miserable khan, although poshega is the embryo of a town symmetrically and geometrically laid out. twelve years ago a turk wounded a servian in the streets of ushitza, in a quarrel about some trifling matter. the servian pulled out a pistol, and shot the turk dead on the spot. both nations seized their arms, and rushing out of the houses, a bloody affray took place, several being left dead on the spot. the servians, feeling their numerical inferiority, now transplanted themselves to the little hamlet of poshega, which is in a finer plain than that of ushitza; but the colony does not appear to prosper, for most of the servians have since returned to ushitza. poshega, from remnants of a nobler architecture, must have been a roman colony. at the new church a stone is built into the wall, having the fragment of an inscription:- a v i a. g e n t i l f l a i i s p r and various other stones are to be seen, one with a figure sculptured on it. continuing our way down the rich valley of the morava, which is here several miles wide, and might contain ten times the present population, we arrived at csatsak, which proved to be as symmetrically laid out as poshega. csatsak is old and new, but the old turkish town has disappeared, and the new servian csatsak is still a foetus. the plan on which all these new places are constructed, is simple, and consists of a circular or square market place, with bazaar shops in the turkish manner, and straight streets diverging from them. i put up at the khan, and then went to the natchalnik's house to deliver my letter. going through green lanes, we at length stopped at a high wooden paling, over-topped with rose and other bushes. entering, we found ourselves on a smooth carpet of turf, and opposite a pretty rural cottage, somewhat in the style of a citizen's villa in the environs of london. the natchalnik was not at home, but was gracefully represented by his young wife, a fair specimen of the beauty of csatsak; and presently the deputy and the judge came to see us. a dark complexioned, good-natured looking man, between thirty and forty, now entered, with an european air, german trowsers and waistcoat, but a turkish riding cloak. "there comes the doctor," said the lady, and the figure with the turkish riding cloak thus announced himself:-_doctor_. "i' bin a' wiener." _author_. "gratulire: dass iss a' lustige stadt." _doctor_. "glaub'ns mir, lust'ger als csatsak." _author_. "i' glaub's." the judge, a sedate, elderly, and slightly corpulent man, asked me what route i had pursued, and intended to pursue. i informed him of the particulars of my journey, and added that i intended to follow the valley of the morava to its confluence with the danube. "the good folks of belgrade do not travel for their pleasure, and could give me little information; therefore, i have chalked out my route from the study of the map." "you have gone out of your way to see sokol," said he; "you may as well extend your tour to novibazaar, and the kopaunik. you are fond of maps: go to the peak of the kopaunik, and you will see all servia rolled out before you from bosnia to bulgaria, and from the balkan to the danube; not a map, or a copy, but the original." "the temptation is irresistible.--my mind is made up to follow your advice." we now went in a body, and paid our visit to the bishop of csatsak, who lives in the finest house in the place; a large well-built villa, on a slight eminence within a grassy inclosure. the bishop received us in an open kiosk, on the first floor, fitted all round with cushions, and commanding a fine view of the hills which inclose the plain of the morava. the thick woods and the precipitous rocks, which impart rugged beauty to the valley of the drina, are here unknown; the eye wanders over a rich yellow champaign, to hills which were too distant to present distinct details, but vaguely grey and beautiful in the transparent atmosphere of a servian early autumn. the bishop was a fine specimen of the church militant,--a stout fiery man of sixty, in full-furred robes, and a black velvet cap. his energetic denunciations of the lawless appropriations of milosh, had for many years procured him the enmity of that remarkable individual; but he was now in the full tide of popularity. his questions referred principally to the state of parties in england, and i could not help thinking that his philosophy must have been something like that of the american parson in the quarantine at smyrna, who thought that fierce combats and contests were as necessary to clear the moral atmosphere, as thunder and lightning to purify the visible heavens. we now took leave of the bishop, and went homewards, for there had been several candidates for entertaining me; but i decided for the jovial doctor, who lived in the house that was formerly occupied by jovan obrenovitch, the youngest and favourite brother of milosh. next morning, as early as six o'clock, i was aroused by the announcement that the natchalnik had returned from the country, and was waiting to see me. on rising, i found him to be a plain, simple servian of the old school; he informed me that this being a saint's day, the bishop would not commence mass until i was arrived. "what?" thought i to myself, "does the bishop think that these obstreperous britons are all of the greek religion." the doctor thought that i should not go; "for," said he, "whoever wishes to exercise the virtue of patience may do so in a greek mass or a hungarian law-suit!" but the natchalnik decided for going; and i, always ready to conform to the custom of the country, accompanied him. the cathedral church was a most ancient edifice of byzantine architecture, which had been first a church, and then a mosque, and then a church again. the honeycombs and stalactite ornaments in the corners, as well as a marble stone in the floor, adorned with geometrical arabesques, showed its services to islamism. but the pictures of the crucifixion, and the figures of the priests, reminded me that i was in a christian temple. the bishop, in pontificalibus, was dressed in a crimson velvet and white satin dress, embroidered in gold, which had cost â£300 at vienna; and as he sat in his chair, with mitre on head, and crosier in hand, looked, with his white bushy beard, an imposing representative of spiritual authority. sometimes he softened, and looked bland, as if it would not have been beneath him to grant absolution to an emperor. a priest was consecrated on the occasion; but the service was so long, (full two hours and a half,) that i was fatigued with the endless bowings and motions, and thought more than once of the benevolent wish of the doctor, to see me preserved from a greek mass and a hungarian law-suit; but the singing was good, simple, massive, and antique in colouring. at the close of the service, thin wax tapers were presented to the congregation, which each of them lighted. after which they advanced and kissed the cross and gospels, which were covered with most minute silver and gold filagree work. the prolonged service had given me a good appetite; and when i returned to the doctor, he smiled, and said, "i am sure you are ready for your _cafe au lait_." "i confess it was rather _langweilig_." "take my advice for the future, and steer clear of a greek mass, or a hungarian law-suit." we now went to take farewell of the bishop, whom we found, as yesterday, in the kiosk, with a fresh set of fur robes, and looking as superb as ever, with a large and splendid ring on his forefinger. "if you had not come during a fast," growled he, with as good-humoured a smile as could be expected from so formidable a personage, "i would have given you a dinner. the english, i know, fight well at sea; but i do not know if they like salt fish." a story is related of this bishop, that on the occasion of some former traveller rising to depart, he asked, "are your pistols in good order?" on the traveller answering in the affirmative, the bishop rejoined, "well, now you may depart with my blessing!" csatsak, although the seat of a bishop and a natchalnik, is only a village, and is insignificant when one thinks of the magnificent plain in which it stands. at every step i made in this country i thought of the noble field which it offers for a system of colonization congenial to the feelings, and subservient to the interests of the present occupants. we now journeyed to karanovatz, where we arrived after sunset, and proceeded in the dark up a paved street, till we saw on our left a _cafe_, with lights gleaming through the windows, and a crowd of people, some inside, some outside, sipping their coffee. an individual, who announced himself as the captain of karanovatz, stepped forward, accompanied by others, and conducted me to his house. scarcely had i sat down on his divan when two handmaidens entered, one of them bearing a large basin in her hand. "my guest," said the captain, "you must be fatigued with your ride. this house is your's. suppose yourself at home in the country beyond the sea." "what," said i, looking to the handmaidens, "supper already! you have divined my arrival to a minute." "oh, no; we must put you at your ease before supper time; it is warm water." "nothing can be more welcome to a traveller." so the handmaidens advanced, and while one pulled off my socks, i lolling luxuriously on the divan, and smoking my pipe, the other washed my feet with water, tepid to a degree, and then dried them. with these agreeable sensations still soothing me, coffee was brought by the lady of the house, on a very pretty service; and i could not help admitting that there was less roughing in servian travel than i expected. after supper, the pariah priest came in, a middle-aged man. _author_. "do you remember the turkish period at karanovatz?" _priest_. "no; i came here only lately. my native place is wuchitern, on the borders of a large lake in the high balkan; but, in common with many of the christian inhabitants, i was obliged to emigrate last year." _author_. "for what reason?" _priest_. "a horde of albanians, from fifteen to twenty thousand in number, burst from the pashalic of scodra upon the peaceful inhabitants of the pashalic of vrania, committing the greatest horrors, burning down villages, and putting the inhabitants to the torture, in order to get money, and dishonouring all the handsomest women. the porte sent a large force, disarmed the rascals, and sent the leaders to the galleys; but i and my people find ourselves so well here that we feel little temptation to return." the grand exploit in the life of our host was a caravan journey to saloniki, where he had the satisfaction of seeing the sea, a circumstance which distinguished him, not only from the good folks of karanovatz, but from most of his countrymen in general. "people that live near the sea," said he, "get their salt cheap enough; but that is not the case in servia. when baron herder made his exploration of the stones and mountains of servia, he discovered salt in abundance somewhere near the kopaunik; but milosh, who at that time had the monopoly of the importation of wallachian salt in his own hands, begged him to keep the place secret, for fear his own profits would suffer a diminution. thus we must pay a large price for foreign salt, when we have plenty of it at our own doors."[10] next day, we walked about caranovatz. it is symmetrically built like csatsak, but better paved and cleaner. footnotes: [footnote 10: i have since heard that the servian salt is to be worked.] chapter xvii. coronation church of the ancient kings of servia.--enter the highlands.--valley of the ybar.--first view of the high balkan.--convent of studenitza.--byzantine architecture.--phlegmatic monk.--servian frontier.--new quarantine.--russian major. we again started after mid-day, with the captain and his momkes, and, proceeding through meadows, arrived at zhitchka jicha. this is an ancient servian convent, of byzantine architecture, where seven kings of servia were crowned, a door being broken into the wall for the entrance of each sovereign, and built up again on his departure. it is situated on a rising ground, just where the river ybar enters the plain of karanovatz. the environs are beautiful. the hills are of moderate height, covered with verdure and foliage; only campaniles were wanting to the illusion of my being in italy, somewhere about verona or vicenza, where the last picturesque undulations of the alps meet the bountiful alluvia of the po. quitting the valley of the morava, we struck southwards into the highlands. here the scene changed; the valley of the ybar became narrow, the vegetation scanty; and, at evening, we arrived at a tent made of thick matted branches of trees, which had been strewn for us with fresh hay. the elders of magletch, a hamlet an hour off, came with an offer of their services, in case they were wanted. the sun set; and a bright crackling fire of withered branches of pine, mingling its light with the rays of the moon in the clear chill of a september evening, threw a wild and unworldly pallor over the sterile scene of our bivouac, and the uncouth figures of the elders. they offered me a supper; but contenting myself with a roasted head of indian corn, and rolling my cloak and pea jacket about me, i fell asleep: but felt so cold that, at two o'clock, i roused the encampment, sounded to horse, and, in a few minutes, was again mounting the steep paths that lead to studenitza. day gradually dawned, and the scene became wilder and wilder; not a chalet was to be seen, for the ruined castle of magletch on its lone crag, betokened nothing of humanity. tall cedars replaced the oak and the beech, the scanty herbage was covered with hoar-frost. the clear brooks murmured chillingly down the unshaded gullies, and a grand line of sterile peaks to the south, showed me that i was approaching the backbone of the balkan. all on a sadden i found the path overlooking a valley, with a few cocks of hay on a narrow meadow; and another turn of the road showed me the lines of a byzantine edifice with a graceful dome, sheltered in a wood from the chilling winter blasts of this highland region. descending, and crossing the stream, we now proceeded up to the eminence on which the convent was placed, and i perceived thick walls and stout turrets, which bade a sturdy defiance to all hostile intentions, except such as might be supported by artillery. on dismounting and entering the wicket, i found myself in an extensive court, one side of which was formed by a newly built crescent-shaped cloister; the other by a line of irregular out-houses with wooden stairs, _chardacks_ and other picturesque but fragile appendages of turkish domestic architecture. between these pigeon-holes and the new substantial, but mean-looking cloister, on the other side rose the church of polished white marble, a splendid specimen of pure byzantine architecture, if i dare apply such an adjective to that fantastic middle manner, which succeeded to the style of the fourth century, and was subsequently re-cast by christians and moslems into what are called the gothic and saracenic.[11] a fat, feeble-voiced, lymphatic-faced superior, leaning on a long staff, received us; but the conversation was all on one side, for "_blagodarim_," (i thank you,) was all that i could get out of him. after reposing a little in the parlour, i came out to view the church again, and expressed my pleasure at seeing so fair an edifice in the midst of such a wilderness. the superior slowly raised his eyebrows, looked first at the church, then at me, and relapsed into a frowning interrogative stupor; at last, suddenly rekindling as if he had comprehended my meaning, added "_blagodarim_" (i thank you). a shrewd young man, from a village a few miles off, now came forward just as the superior's courage pricked him on to ask if there were any convents in my country; "very few," said i. "but there are," said the young pert servian, "a great many schools and colleges where useful sciences are taught to the young, and hospitals, where active physicians cure diseases." this was meant as a cut to the reverend farniente. he looked blank, but evidently wanted the boldness and ingenuity to frame an answer to this redoubtable innovator. at last he gaped at me to help him out of the dilemma. "i should be sorry," said i, "if any thing were to happen to this convent. it is a most interesting and beautiful monument of the ancient kingdom of servia; i hope it will be preserved and honourably kept up to a late period." "_blagodarim_, (i am obliged to you,)" said the superior, pleased at the gordian knot being loosed, and then relapsed into his atrophy, without moving a muscle of his countenance. i now examined the church; the details of the architecture showed that it had suffered severely from the turks. the curiously twisted pillars of the outer door were sadly chipped, while noseless angels, and fearfully mutilated lions guarded the inner portal. passing through a vestibule, we saw the remains of the font, which must have been magnificent; and covered with a cupola, the stumps of the white marble columns which support it are still visible; high on the wall is a piece of sculpture, supposed to represent st. george. entering the church, i saw on the right the tomb of st. simeon, the sainted king of servia; beside it hung his banner with the half-moon on it, the insignium of the south slavonic nation from the dawn of heraldry. near the altar was the body of his son, st. stephen, the patron saint of servia. those who accompanied us paid little attention to the architecture of the church, but burst into raptures at the sight of the carved wood of the screen, which had been most minutely and elaborately cut by tsinsars, (as the macedonian latins are called to this day). close to the church is a chapel with the following inscription: "i, stephen urosh, servant of god, great grandson of saint simeon and son of the great king urosh, king of all the servian lands and coasts, built this temple in honour of the holy and just joachim and anna, 1314. whoever destroys this temple of christ be accursed of god and of me a sinner." thirty-five churches in this district, mostly in ruins, attest the piety of the neman dynasty. the convent of studenitza was built towards the end of the twelfth century, by the first of the dynasty. the old cloister of the convent was burnt down by the turks. the new cloister was built in 1839. in fact it is a wonder that so fine a monument as the church should have been preserved at all. there is a total want of arable land in this part of servia, and the pasture is neither good nor abundant; but the ybar is the most celebrated of all the streams of servia for large quantities of trout. next day we continued our route direct south, through scenery of the same rugged and sterile description as that we had passed on the way hither. how different from the velvet verdure and woodland music of the gutchevo and the drina! at one place on the bank of the ybar, there was room for only a led horse, by a passage cut in the rock. this place bears the name of demir kapu, or iron gate. in the evening we arrived at the frontier quarantine, called raska, which is situated at two hours' distance from novibazar. in the midst of an amphitheatre of hills destitute of vegetation, which appeared low from the valley, although they must have been high enough above the level of the sea, was such a busy scene as one may find in the back settlements of eastern russia. within an extensive inclosure of high palings was a heterogeneous mass of new buildings, some unfinished, and resounding with the saw, the plane, and the hatchet; others in possession of the employes in their uniforms; others again devoted to the safe keeping of the well-armed caravans, which bring their cordovans, oils, and cottons, from saloniki, through macedonia, and over the balkan, to the gates of belgrade. on dismounting, the director, a thin elderly man, with a modest and pleasing manner, told me in german that he was a native of the austrian side of the save, and had been attached to the quarantine at semlin; that he had joined the quarantine service, with the permission of his government, and after having directed various other establishments, was now occupied in organizing this new point. the _traiteur_ of the quarantine gave us for dinner a very fair pillaff, as well as roast and boiled fowl; and going outside to our bench, in front of the finished buildings, i began to smoke. a slightly built and rather genteel-looking man, with a braided surtout, and a piece of ribbon at his button-hole, was sitting on the step of the next door, and wished me good evening in german. i asked him who he was, and he told me that he was a pole, and had been a major in the russian service, but was compelled to quit it in consequence of a duel. i asked him if he was content with his present condition; and he answered, "indeed, i am not; i am perfectly miserable, and sometimes think of returning to russia, _coute qui coute_.--my salary is â£20 sterling a year, and everything is dear here; for there is no village, but an artificial settlement; and i have neither books nor european society. i can hold out pretty well now, for the weather is fine; but i assure you that in winter, when the snow is on the ground, it exhausts my patience." we now took a turn down the inclosure to his house, which was the ground-floor of the guard-house. here was a bed on wooden boards, a single chair and table, without any other furniture. the director, obliging me, made up a bed for me in his own house, since the only resource at the _traiteur's_ would have been my own carpet and pillow. footnotes: [footnote 11: ingenious treaties have been written on the origin of the gothic and saracenic styles of architecture; but it seems to me impossible to contemplate many byzantine edifices without feeling persuaded that this manner is the parent of both. taking the lower empire for the point of departure, the christian style spread north to the baltic and westwards to the atlantic. saint stephen's in vienna, standing half way between byzantium and wisby, has a byzantine facade and a gothic tower. the saracenic style followed the moslem conquests round by the southern coasts of the mediterranean to morocco and andaloss. thus both the northern and the eastern styles met each other, first in sicily and then in spain, both having started from constantinople.] chapter xviii. cross the bosniac frontier.--gipsy encampment.--novibazar described.--rough reception.--precipitate departure.--fanaticism. next day we were all afoot at an early hour, in order to pay a visit to novibazar. in order to obviate the performance of quarantine on our return, i took an officer of the establishment, and a couple of men, with me, who in the levant are called guardiani; but here the german word ueber-reiter, or over-rider, was adopted. we continued along the river raska for about an hour, and then descried a line of wooden palings going up hill and down dale, at right angles with the course we were holding. this was the frontier of the principality of servia, and here began the direct rule of the sultan and the pashalic of bosnia. at the guard-house half a dozen momkes, with old fashioned albanian guns, presented arms. after half an hour's riding, the valley became wider, and we passed through meadow lands, cultivated by moslem bosniacs in their white turbans; and two hours further, entered a fertile circular plain, about a mile and a half in diameter, surrounded by low hills, which had a chalky look, in the midst of which rose the minarets and bastions of the town and castle of novibazar. numerous gipsy tents covered the plain, and at one of them, a withered old gipsy woman, with white dishevelled hair hanging down on each side of her burnt umber face, cried out in a rage, "see how the royal servian people now-a-days have the audacity to enter novibazar on horseback," alluding to the ancient custom of christians not being permitted to ride on horseback in a town.[12] on entering, i perceived the houses to be of a most forbidding aspect, being built of mud, with only a base of bricks, extending about three feet from the ground. none of the windows were glazed; this being the first town of this part of turkey in europe that i had seen in such a plight. the over-rider stopped at a large stable-looking building, which was the khan of the place. near the door were some bare wooden benches, on which some moslems, including the khan-keeper, were reposing. the horses were foddered at the other extremity, and a fire burned in the middle of the floor, the smoke escaping by the doors. we now sent our letter to youssouf bey, the governor, but word was brought back that he was in the harem. we now sallied forth to view the town. the castle, which occupies the centre, is on a slight eminence, and flanked with eight bastions; it contains no regular troops, but merely some _redif_, or militia. besides one small well-built stone mosque, there is nothing else to remark in the place. some of the bazaar shops seemed tolerably well furnished; but the place is, on the whole, miserable and filthy in the extreme. the total number of mosques is seventeen. the afternoon being now advanced, i went to call upon the mutsellim. his konak was situated in a solitary street, close to the fields. going through an archway, we found ourselves in the court of a house of two stories. the ground-floor was the prison, with small windows and grated wooden bars. above was an open corridor, on which the apartments of the bey opened. two rusty, old fashioned cannons were in the middle of the court. two wretched-looking men, and a woman, detained for theft, occupied one of the cells. they asked us if we knew where somebody, with an unpronounceable name, had gone. but not having had the honour of knowing any body of the light-fingered profession, we could give no satisfactory information on the subject. the momke, whom we had asked after the governor, now re-descended the rickety steps, and announced that the bey was still asleep; so i walked out, but in the course of our ramble learned that he was afraid to see us, on account of the fanatics in the town: for, from the immediate vicinity of this place to servia, the inhabitants entertain a stronger hatred of christians than is usual in the other parts of turkey, where commerce, and the presence of frank influences, cause appearances to be respected. but the people here recollected only of one party of franks ever visiting the town.[13] we now sauntered into the fields; and seeing the cemetery, which promised from its elevation to afford a good general view of the town, we ascended, and were sorry to see so really pleasing a situation abused by filth, indolence, and barbarism. the castle was on the elevated centre of the town; and the town sloping on all aides down to the gardens, was as nearly as possible in the centre of the plain. when we had sufficiently examined the carved stone kaouks and turbans on the tomb stones, we re-descended towards the town. a savage-looking bosniac now started up from behind a low outhouse, and trembling with rage and fanaticism began to abuse us: "giaours, kafirs, spies! i know what you have come for. do you expect to see your cross planted some day on the castle?" the old story, thought i to myself; the fellow takes me for a military engineer, exhausting the resources of my art in a plan for the reduction of the redoubtable fortress and city of novibazar. "take care how you insult an honourable gentleman," said the over-rider; "we will complain to the bey." "what do we care for the bey?" said the fellow, laughing in the exuberance of his impudence. i now stopped, looked him full in the face, and asked him coolly what he wanted. "i will show you that when you get into the bazaar," and then he suddenly bolted down a lane out of sight. a christian, who had been hanging on at a short distance, came up and said-"i advise you to take yourself out of the dust as quickly as possible. the whole town is in a state of alarm; and unless you are prepared for resistance, something serious may happen: for the fellows here are all wild arnaouts, and do not understand travelling franks." "your advice is a good one; i am obliged to you for the hint, and i will attend to it." had there been a pasha or consul in the place, i would have got the fellow punished for his insolence: but knowing that our small party was no match for armed fanatics, and that there was nothing more to be seen in the place, we avoided the bazaar, and went round by a side street, paid our khan bill,[14] and, mounting our horses, trotted rapidly out of the town, for fear of a stray shot; but the over-rider on getting clear of the suburbs instead of relaxing got into a gallop. "halt," cried i, "we are clear of the rascals, and fairly out of town;" and coming up to the eminence crowned with the giurgeve stupovi, on which was a church, said to have been built by stephen dushan the powerful, i resolved to ascend, and got the over-rider to go so far; but some bosniacs in a field warned us off with menacing gestures. the over-rider said, "for god's sake let us go straight home. if i go back to novibazar my life may be taken." not wishing to bring the poor fellow into trouble, i gave up the project, and returned to the quarantine. novibazar, which is about ten hours distant from the territory of montenegro, and thrice that distance from scutari, is, politically speaking, in the pashalic of bosnia. the servian or bosniac language here ceases to be the preponderating language, and the albanian begins and stretches southward to epirus. but through all the pashalic of scutari, servian is much spoken. colonel hodges, her britannic majesty's first consul-general in servia, a gentleman of great activity and intelligence, from the laudable desire to procure the establishment of an entre-pot for british manufactures in the interior, got a certain chieftain of a clan vassoevitch, named british vice-consul at novibazar. from this man's influence, there can be no doubt that had he stuck to trade he might have proved useful; but, inflated with vanity, he irritated the fanaticism of the bosniacs, by setting himself up as a little christian potentate. as a necessary consequence, he was obliged to fly for his life, and his house was burned to the ground. the vassoevitch clan have from time immemorial occupied certain mountains near novibazar, and pretend, or pretended, to complete independence of the porte, like the montenegrines. while i returned to the quarantine, and dismounted, the director, to whom the over-rider related our adventure, came up laughing, and said, "what do you think of the rites of novibazar hospitality?" _author_. "more honoured in the breach than in the observance, as our national poet would have said." _director_. "i know well enough what you mean." _by-stander_. "the cause of the hatred of these fellows to you is, that they fear that some fine day they will be under christian rule. we are pleased to see the like of you here. our brethren on the other side may derive a glimmering hope of liberation from the circumstance." _author_. "my government is at present on the best terms with the porte: the readiness with which such hopes arise in the minds of the people, is my motive for avoiding political conversations with rayahs on those dangerous topics." footnotes: [footnote 12: most of the gipsies here profess islamism.] [footnote 13: i presume messrs. boue and party.] [footnote 14: the austrian zwanziger goes here for only three piastres; in servia it goes for five.] chapter xix. ascent of the kopaunik.--grand prospect.--descent of the kopaunik.--bruss.--involuntary bigamy.--conversation on the servian character.--krushevatz.--relics of the servian monarchy. a middle-aged, showily dressed man, presented himself as the captain who was to conduct me to the top of the kopaunik. his clerk was a fat, knock-kneed, lubberly-looking fellow, with a red face, a short neck, a low forehead, and bushy eyebrows and mustachios, as fair as those of a norwegian; to add to his droll appearance, one of his eyes was bandaged up. "as sure as i am alive, that fellow will go off in an apoplexy. what a figure! i would give something to see that fellow climbing up the ladder of a steamer from a boat on a blowy day." "or dancing to the bagpipe," said paul. the sky was cloudy, and the captain seemed irresolute, whether to advise me to make the ascent or proceed to banya. the plethoric one-eyed clerk, with more regard to his own comfort than my pleasure, was secretly persuading the captain that the expedition would end in a ducking to the skin, and, turning to me, said, "you, surely, do not intend to go up to day, sir? take the advice of those who know the country?" "nonsense," said i, "this is mere fog, which will clear away in an hour. if i do not ascend the kopaunik now, i can never do so again." plethora then went away to get the director to lend his advice on the same side; and after much whispering he came back, and announced that my horse was unshod, and could not ascend the rocks. the director was amused with the clumsy bustle of this fellow to save himself a little exercise. i, at length, said to the doubting captain, "my good friend, an englishman is like a servian, when he takes a resolution he does not change it. pray order the horses." we now crossed the ybar, and ascending for hours through open pasture lands, arrived at some rocks interspersed with stunted ilex, where a lamb was roasting for our dinner. the meridian sun had long ere this pierced the clouds that overhung our departure, and the sight of the lamb completely irradiated the rubicund visage of the plethoric clerk. a low round table was set down on the grass, under the shade of a large boulder stone. an ilex growing from its interstices seemed to live on its wits, for not an ounce of soil was visible for its subsistence. our ride gave us a sharp appetite, and we did due execution on the lamb. the clerk, fixing his eyes steadily on the piece he had singled out, tucked up his sleeves, as for a surgical operation, and bone after bone was picked, and thrown over the rock; and when all were satisfied, the clerk was evidently at the climacteric of his powers of mastication. after reposing a little, we again mounted horse. a gentle wind skimmed the white straggling clouds from the blue sky. warmer and warmer grew the sunlit valleys; wider and wider grew the prospect as we ascended. balkan after balkan rose on the distant horizon. ever and anon i paused and looked round with delight; but before reaching the summit i tantalized myself with a few hundred yards of ascent, to treasure the glories in store for the pause, the turn, and the view. when, at length, i stood on the highest peak; the prospect was literally gorgeous. servia lay rolled out at my feet. there was the field of kossovo, where amurath defeated lasar and entombed the ancient empire of servia. i mused an instant on this great landmark of european history, and following the finger of an old peasant, who accompanied us, i looked eastwards, and saw deligrad--the scene of one of the bloodiest fights that preceded the resurrection of servia as a principality. the morava glistened in its wide valley like a silver thread in a carpet of green, beyond which the dark mountains of rudnik rose to the north, while the frontiers of bosnia, albania, macedonia, and bulgaria walled in the prospect. "_nogo svet_.--this is the whole world," said the peasant, who stood by me. i myself thought, that if an artist wished for a landscape as the scene of satan taking up our saviour into a high mountain, he could find none more appropriate than this. the kopaunik is not lofty; not much above six thousand english feet above the level of the sea. but it is so placed in the servian basin, that the eye embraces the whole breadth from bosnia to bulgaria, and very nearly the whole length from macedonia to hungary. i now thanked the captain for his trouble, bade him adieu, and, with a guide, descended the north eastern slope of the mountain. the declivity was rapid, but thick turf assured us a safe footing. towards night-fall we entered a region interspersed with trees, and came to a miserable hamlet of shepherds, where we were fain to put up in a hut. this was the humblest habitation we had entered in servia. it was built of logs of wood and wattling. a fire burned in the middle of the floor, the smoke of which, finding no vent but the door, tried our eyes severely, and had covered the roof with a brilliant jet. hay being laid in a corner, my carpet and pillow were spread out on it; but sleep was impossible from the fleas. at length, the sheer fatigue of combating them threw me towards morning into a slumber; and on awaking, i looked up, and saw a couple of armed men crouching over the glowing embers of the fire. these were the bolouk bashi and pandour, sent by the natchalnik of krushevatz, to conduct us to that town. i now rose, and breakfasted on new milk, mingled with brandy and sugar, no bad substitute for better fare, and mounted horse. we now descended the grashevatzka river to bruss, with low hills on each side, covered with grass, and partly wooded. bruss is prettily situated on a rising ground, at the confluence of two tributaries of the morava. it has a little bazaar opening on a lawn, where the captain of zhupa had come to meet me. after coffee, we again mounted, and proceeded to zhupa. here the aspect of the country changed; the verdant hills became chalky, and covered with vineyards, which, before the fall of the empire, were celebrated. to this day tradition points out a cedar and some vines, planted by militza, the consort of lasar. the vine-dressers all stood in a row to receive us. a carpet had been placed under an oak, by the side of the river, and a round low table in the middle of it was soon covered with soup, sheeps' kidneys, and a fat capon, roasted to a minute, preceded by onions and cheese, as a rinfresco, and followed by choice grapes and clotted cream, as a dessert. "i think," said i to the entertainer, as i shook the crumbs out of my napkin, and took the first whiff of my chibouque, "that if stephan dushan's chief cook were to rise from the grave, he could not give us better fare." _captain_. "god sends us good provender, good pasture, good flocks and herds, good corn and fruits, and wood and water. the land is rich; the climate is excellent; but we are often in political troubles." _author_. "these recent affairs are trifles, and you are too young to recollect the revolution of kara georg." _captain_. "yes, i am; but do you see that bolouk bashi who accompanied you hither; his history is a droll illustration of past times. simo slivovats is a brave soldier, but, although a servian, has two wives." _author_. "is he a moslem?" _captain_. "not at all. in the time of kara georg he was an active guerilla fighter, and took prisoner a turk called sidi mengia, whose life he spared. in the year 1813, when servia was temporarily re-conquered by the turks, the same sidi mengia returned to zhupa, and said, 'where is the brave servian who saved my life?' the bolouk bashi being found, he said to him, 'my friend, you deserve another wife for your generosity.' 'i cannot marry two wives,' said simo; 'my religion forbids it.' but the handsomest woman in the country being sought out, sidi mengia sent a message to the priest of the place, ordering him to marry simo to the young woman. the priest refused; but sidi mengia sent a second threatening message; so the priest married the couple. the two wives live together to this day in the house of simo at zhupa. the archbishop, since the departure of the turks, has repeatedly called on simo to repudiate his second wife; but the principal obstacle is the first wife, who looks upon the second as a sort of sister: under these anomalous circumstances, simo was under a sort of excommunication, until he made a fashion of repudiating the second wife, by the first adopting her as a sister." the captain, who was an intelligent modest man, would fain have kept me till next day; but i felt anxious to get to alexinatz; and on arrival at a hill called vrbnitzkobrdo, the vale of the morava again opened upon us in all its beauty and fertility, in the midst of which lay krushevatz, which was the last metropolis of the servian empire; and even now scarce can fancy picture to itself a nobler site for an internal capital. situated half-way between the source and the mouth of the morava, the plain has breadth enough for swelling zones of suburbs, suburban villas, gardens, fields, and villages. it was far in the night when we arrived at krushevatz. the natchalnik was waiting with lanterns, and gave us a hearty welcome. as i went upstairs his wife kissed my hand, and i in sport wished to kiss her's; but the natchalnik said, "we still hold to the old national custom, that the wife kisses the hand of a stranger." our host was a fair-haired man, with small features and person, a brisk manner and sharp intelligence, but tempered by a slight spice of vanity. the _tout ensemble_ reminded me of the berlin character. _natchalnik_. "i am afraid that, happy as we are to receive such strangers as you, we are not sufficiently acquainted with the proper ceremonies to be used on the occasion." _author_. "the stranger must conform to the usage of the country, not the country to the standard of the stranger. i came here to see the servians as they are in their own nature, and not in their imitations of europe. in the east there is more ceremony than in the west; and if you go to europe you will be surprised at the absence of ceremonious compliments there." _natchalnik_. "the people in the interior are a simple and uncorrupted race; their only monitor is nature." _author_. "that is true: the european who judges of the servians by the intrigues of belgrade, will form an unfavourable opinion of them; the mass of the nation, in spite of its faults, is sound. many of the men at the head of affairs, such as simitch, garashanin, &c., are men of integrity; but in the second class at belgrade, there is a great mixture of rogues." _natchalnik_. "i know the common people well: they are laborious, grateful, and obedient; they bear ill-usage for a time, but in the end get impatient, and are with difficulty appeased. when i or any other governor say to one of the people, 'brother, this or that must be done,' he crosses his hands on his breast, and says, 'it shall be done;' but he takes particular notice of what i do, and whether i perform what is due on my part. if i fail, woe betide me. the obrenovitch party forgot this; hence their fall." next day we went to look at the remains of servian royalty. a shattered gateway and ruined walls, are all that now remain of the once extensive palace of knes lasar czar serbski; but the chapel is as perfect as it was when it occupied the centre of the imperial quadrangle. it is a curious monument of the period, in a byzantine sort of style; but not for a moment to be compared in beauty to the church of studenitza. above one of the doors is carved the double eagle, the insignium of empire. the great solidity of this edifice recommended it to the turks as an arsenal; hence its careful preservation. the late servian governor had the vandalism to whitewash the exterior, so that at a distance it looks like a vulgar parish church. within is a great deal of gilding and bad painting; pity that the late governor did not whitewash the inside instead of the out. the natchalnik told me, that under the whitewash fine bricks were disposed in diamond figures between the stones. this antique principle of tesselation applied by the byzantines to perpendicular walls, and occasionally adopted and varied _ad infinitum_ by the saracens, is magnificently illustrated in the upper exterior of the ducal palace of venice. chapter xx. formation of the servian monarchy.--contest between the latin and greek churches.--stephan dushan.--a great warrior.--results of his victories.--knes lasar.--invasion of amurath.--battle of kossovo.--death of lasar and amurath.--fall of the servian monarchy.--general observations. i cannot present what i have to say on the feudal monarchy of servia more appropriately than in connexion with the architectural monuments of the period. the servians, known in europe from the seventh century, at which period they migrated from the carpathians to the danube, were in the twelfth century divided into petty states. "le premier roi fut un soldat heureux." neman the first, who lived near the present novibazar, first cemented these scattered principalities into a united monarchy. he assumed the double eagle as the insignium of his dignity, and considered the archangel michael as the patron saint of his family. he was brave in battle, cunning in politics, and the convent of studenitza is a splendid monument of his love of the arts. here he died, and was buried in 1195. servia and bosnia were, at this remote period, the debatable territory between the churches of rome and constantinople, so divided was opinion at that time even in servia proper, where now a roman catholic community is not to be found, that two out of the three sons of this prince were inclined to the latin ritual. stephan, the son of neman, ultimately held by the greek church, and was crowned by his brother sava, greek archbishop of servia. the chronicles of daniel tell that "he was led to the altar, anointed with oil, clad in purple, and the archbishop, placing the crown on his head, cried aloud three times, 'long live stephan the first crowned king and autocrat of servia,' on which all the assembled magnates and people cried, _'nogo lieto_!' (many years!)" the servian kingdom was gradually extended under his successors, and attained its climax under stephan dushan, surnamed the powerful, who was, according to all contemporary accounts, of tall stature and a commanding kingly presence. he began his reign in the year 1336, and in the course of the four following years, overran nearly the whole of what is now called turkey in europe; and having besieged the emperor andronicus in thessalonica, compelled him to cede albania and macedonia. prisrend, in the former province, was selected as the capital; the pompous honorary charges and frivolous ceremonial of the greek emperors were introduced at his court, and the short-lived national order of the knights of st. stephan was instituted by him in 1346. he then turned his arms northwards, and defeated louis of hungary in several engagements. he was preparing to invade thrace, and attempt the conquest of constantinople, in 1356, with eighty thousand men, but death cut him off in the midst of his career. the brilliant victories of stephan dushan were a misfortune to christendom. they shattered the greek empire, the last feeble bulwark of europe, and paved the way for those ultimate successes of the asiatic conquerors, which a timely union of strength might have prevented. stephan dushan was the little napoleon of his day; he conquered, but did not consolidate: and his scourging wars were insufficiently balanced by the advantage of the code of laws to which he gave his name. his son urosh, being a weak and incapable prince, was murdered by one of the generals of the army, and thus ended the neman dynasty, after having subsisted 212 years, and produced eight kings and two emperors. the crown now devolved on knes, or prince lasar, a connexion of the house of neman, who was crowned czar, but is more generally called knes lasar. of all the ancient rulers of the country, his memory is held the dearest by the servians of the present day. he appears to have been a pious and generous prince, and at the same time to have been a brave but unsuccessful general. amurath, the ottoman sultan, who had already taken all roumelia, south of the balkan, now resolved to pass these mountains, and invade servia proper; but, to make sure of success, secretly offered the crown to wuk brankovich, a servian chief, as a reward for his treachery to lasar. wuk caught at the bait, and when the armies were in sight of each other, accused milosh kobilich, the son-in-law of lasar, of being a traitor. on the night before the battle, lasar assembled all the knights and nobles to decide the matter between wuk and milosh. lasar then took a silver cup of wine, handed it over to milosh, and said, "take this cup of wine from my hand and drink it." milosh drank it, in token of his fidelity, and said, "now there is no time for disputing. to-morrow i will prove that my accuser is a calumniator, and that i am a faithful subject of my prince and father-in-law." milosh then embraced the plan of assassinating amurath in his tent, and taking with him two stout youths, secretly left the servian camp, and presented himself at the turkish lines, with his lance reversed, as a sign of desertion. arrived at the tent of amurath, he knelt down, and, pretending to kiss the hand of the sultan, drew forth his dagger, and stabbed him in the body, from which wound amurath died. hence the usage of the ottomans not to permit strangers to approach the sultan, otherwise than with their arms held by attendants. the celebrated battle of kossovo then took place. the wing commanded by wuk gave way, he being the first to retreat. the division commanded by lasar held fast for some time, and, at length, yielded to the superior force of the turks. lasar himself lost his life in the battle, and thus ended the servian monarchy on the 15th of june, 1389. the state of servia, previous to its subjugation by the turks, appears to have been strikingly analogous to that of the other feudal monarchies of europe; the revenue being derived mostly from crown lands, the military service of the nobles being considered an equivalent for the tenure of their possessions. society consisted of ecclesiastics, nobles, knights, gentlemen, and peasants. a citizen class seldom or never figures on the scene. its merchants were foreigners, byzantines, venetians, or ragusans, and history speaks of no bruges or augsburg in servia, bosnia, or albania. the religion of the state was that of the oriental church; the secular head of which was not the patriarch of constantinople; but, as is now the case in russia, the emperor himself, assisted by a synod, at the head of which was the patriarch of servia and its dependencies. the first article of the code of stephan dushan runs thus: "care must be taken of the christian religion, the holy churches, the convents, and the ecclesiastics." and elsewhere, with reference to the latin heresy, as it was called, "the orthodox czar" was bound to use the most vigorous means for its extirpation; those who resisted were to be put to death. at the death of a noble, his arms belonged by right to the czar; but his dresses, gold and silver plate, precious stones, and gilt girdles fell to his male children, whom failing, to the daughters. if a noble insulted another noble, he paid a fine; if a gentleman insulted a noble, he was flogged. the laity were called "dressers in white:" hence one must conclude that light coloured dresses were used by the people, and black by the clergy. beards were worn and held sacred: plucking the beard of a noble was punished by the loss of the right hand. rape was punished with cutting off the nose of the man; the girl received at the same time a third of the man's fortune, as a compensation. seduction, if not followed by marriage, was expiated by a pound of gold, if the party were rich; half a pound of gold, if the party were in mediocre circumstances; and cutting off the nose if the party were poor. if a woman's husband were absent at the wars, she must wait ten years for his return, or for news of him. if she got sure news of his death, she must wait a year before marrying again. otherwise a second marriage was considered adultery. great protection was afforded to friendly merchants, who were mostly venetians. all lords of manors were enjoined to give them hospitality, and were responsible for losses sustained by robbery within their jurisdiction. the lessees of the gold and silver mines of servia, as well as the workmen of the state mint, were also venetians; and on looking through professor shafarik's collection, i found all the coins closely resembling in die those of venice. saint stephan is seen giving to the king of the day the banner of servia, in the same way as saint mark gives the banner of the republic of venice to the doge, as seen on the old coins of that state. the process of embalming was carried to high perfection, for the mummy of the canonized knes lasar is to be seen to this day. i made a pilgrimage some years ago to vrdnik, a retired monastery in the frusca gora, where his mummy is preserved with the most religious care, in the church, exposed to the atmosphere. it is, of course, shrunk, shrivelled, and of a dark brown colour, bedecked with an antique embroidered mantle, said to be the same worn at the battle of kossovo. the fingers were covered with the most costly rings, no doubt since added. it appears that the roman practice of burning the dead, (probably preserved by the tsinsars, the descendants of the colonists in macedonia,) was not uncommon, for any village in which such an act took place was subject to fine. if there be moslems in secret to this day in andalusia, and if there were worshippers of odin and thor till lately on the shores of the baltic, may not some secret votaries of jupiter and mars have lingered among the recesses of the balkan, for centuries after christianity had shed its light over europe? the servian monarchy having terminated more than half a century before the invention of printing, and most of the manuscripts of the period having been destroyed, or dispersed during the long turkish occupation, very little is known of the literature of this period except the annals of servia, by archbishop daniel, the original manuscript of which is now in the hiliendar monastery of mount athos. the language used was the old slaavic, now a dead language, but used to this day as the vehicle of divine service in all greco-slaavic communities from the adriatic to the utmost confines of russia, and the parent of all the modern varieties of the southern and eastern slaavic languages. chapter xxi. a battue missed.--proceed to alexinatz.--foreign-office courier.--bulgarian frontier.--gipsey suregee.--tiupria.--new bridge and macadamized road. the natchalnik was the nimrod of his district, and had made arrangements to treat me to a grand hunt of bears and boars on the jastrabatz, with a couple of hundred peasants to beat the woods; but the rain poured, the wind blew, my sport was spoiled, and i missed glorious materials for a snyders in print. thankful was i, however, that the element had spared me during the journey in the hills, and that we were in snug quarters during the bad weather. a day later i should have been caught in the peasant's chimneyless-hut at the foot of the balkan, and then should have roughed it in earnest. when the weather settled, i was again in motion, ascending that branch of the morava which comes from nissa. there was nothing to remark in this part of servia, which proved to be the least interesting part of our route, being wanting as well in boldness of outline as in luxuriant vegetation. on approaching a khan, at a short distance from alexinatz, i perceived an individual whom i guessed to be the captain of the place, along with a britannic-looking figure in a polish frock. this was captain w----, a queen's messenger of the new school. while we were drinking a cup of coffee, a turkish bin bashi came upon his way to belgrade from the army of roumelia at kalkendel; he told us that the pasha of nish had gone with all his force to procupli to disarm the arnaouts. i very naturally took out the map to learn where procupli was; on which the bin bashi asked me if i was a military engineer! "that boy will be the death of me!"--so nobody but military engineers are permitted to look at maps. for a month i had seen or heard nothing of europe and europeans except the doctor at csatsak, and his sage maxims about greek masses and hungarian law-suits. i therefore made prize of the captain, who was an intelligent man, with an abundance of fresh political chit-chat, and odds and ends of scandal from paddington to the bank, and from pall-mall to parliament-street, brimful of extracts and essences of athenaeums, united-services, and other hebdomadals. formerly foreign-office messengers were the cast-off butlers and valets of secretaries of state. for some time back they have been taken from the half-pay list and the educated classes. one or two can boast of very fair literary attainments; and a man who once a year spends a few weeks in all the principal capitals of europe, from madrid to st. petersburg and constantinople, necessarily picks up a great knowledge of the world. the british messengers post out from london to semlin, where they leave their carriages, ride across to alexinatz on the bulgarian frontier, whence the despatches are carried by a tartar to constantinople, via philippopoli and adrianople. on arriving at alexinatz, a good english dinner awaited us at the konak of the queen's messenger. it seemed so odd, and yet was so very comfortable, to have roast beef, plum pudding, sherry, brown stout, stilton cheese, and other insular groceries at the foot of the balkan. there was, moreover, a small library, with which the temporary occupants of the konak killed the month's interval between arrival and departure. next day i visited the quarantine buildings with the inspector; they are all new, and erected in the austrian manner. the number of those who purge their quarantine is about fourteen thousand individuals per annum, being mostly bulgarians who wander into servia at harvest time, and place at the disposal of the haughty, warlike, and somewhat indolent servians their more humble and laborious services. a village of three hundred houses, a church, and a national school, have sprung up within the last few years at this point. the imports from roumelia and bulgaria are mostly cordovan leather; the exports, austrian manufactures, which pass through servia. when the new macadamized road from belgrade to this point is finished, there can be no doubt that the trade will increase. the possible effect of which is, that the british manufactures, which are sold at the fairs of transbalkan bulgaria, may be subject to greater competition. after spending a few days at alexinatz, i started with post horses for tiupria, as the horse i had ridden had been so severely galled, that i was obliged to send him to belgrade. tiupria, being on the high road across servia, has a large khan, at which i put up. i had observed armed guards at the entrance of the town, and felt at a loss to account for the cause. the rooms of the khan being uninhabitable, i sent paul with my letter of introduction to the natchalnik, and sat down in the khan kitchen, which was a parlour at the same time; an apartment, with a brick floor, one side of which was fitted up with a broad wooden bench (the bare boards being in every respect preferable in such cases to cushions, as one has a better chance of cleanliness). the other side of the apartment was like a hedge alehouse in england, with a long table and moveable benches. several servians sat here drinking coffee and smoking; others drinking wine. the cahwagi was standing with his apron on, at a little charcoal furnace, stirring his small coffee-pot until the cream came. i ordered some wine for myself, as well as the suregee, but the latter said, "i do not drink wine." i now looked him in the face, and saw that he was of a very dark complexion; for i had made the last stage after sunset, and had not remarked him. _author_. "are you a chingany (gipsy)?" _gipsy_. "yes." _author_. "now i recollect most of the gipsies here are moslems; how do you show your adherence to islamism?" _gipsy_. "i go regularly to mosque, and say my prayers." _author_. "what language do you speak?" _gipsy_. "in business turkish or servian; but with my family chingany." i now asked the cahwagi the cause of the guards being posted in the streets; and he told me of the attempt at shabatz, by disguised hussars, in which the worthy collector met his death. paul not returning, i felt impatient, and wondered what had become of him. at length he returned, and told me that he had been taken in the streets as a suspicious character, without a lantern, carried to the guard-house, and then to the house of the natchalnik, to whom he presented the letter, and from whom he now returned, with a pandour, and a message to come immediately. the natchalnik met us half-way with the lanterns, and reproached me for not at once descending at his house. being now fatigued, i soon went to bed in an apartment hung round with all sorts of arms. there were albanian guns, bosniac pistols, vienna fowling-pieces, and all manner of damascus and khorassan blades. next morning, on awaking, i looked out at my window, and found myself in a species of kiosk, which hung over the morava, now no longer a mountain stream, but a broad and almost navigable river. the lands on the opposite side were flat, but well cultivated, and two bridges, an old and a new one, spanned the river. hence the name tiupria, from the turkish _keupri_ (bridge,) for here the high road from belgrade to constantinople crosses the morava. the natchalnik, a tall, muscular, broad-shouldered man, now entered, and, saluting me like an old friend, asked me how i slept. _author_. "i thank you, never better in my life. my yesterday's ride gave me a sharp exercise, without excessive fatigue. i need not ask you how you are, for you are the picture of health and herculean strength." _natchalnik_. "i was strong in my day, but now and then nature tells me that i am considerably on the wrong side of my climacteric." _author_. "pray tell me what is the reason of this accumulation of arms. i never slept with such ample means of defence within my reach,--quite an arsenal." _natchalnik_. "you have no doubt heard of the attempt of the obrenovitch faction at shabatz. we are under no apprehension of their doing any thing here; for they have no partizans: but i am an old soldier, and deem it prudent to take precautions, even when appearances do not seem to demand them very imperiously. i wish the rascals would show face in this quarter, just to prevent our arms from getting rusty. our greatest loss is that of ninitch, the collector." _author_. "poor follow. i knew him as well as any man can know another in a few days. he made a most favourable impression on me: it seems as it were but yesternight that i toasted him in a bumper, and wished him long life, which, like many other wishes of mine, was not destined to be fulfilled. how little we think of the frail plank that separates us from the ocean of eternity!" _natchalnik_. "i was once, myself, very near the other world, having entered as a volunteer in the russian army that crossed the balkan in 1828. i burned a mosque in defiance of the orders of marshal diebitch; the consequence was that i was tried by a court-martial, and condemned to be shot: but on putting in a petition, and stating that i had done so through ignorance, and in accomplishment of a vow of vengeance, my father and brother having been killed by the turks in the war of liberation, seven of our houses[15] having been burned at the same time, marshal diebitch on reading the petition pardoned me." the doctor of the place now entered; a very little man with a pale complexion, and a black braided surtout. he informed me that he had been for many years a surgeon in the austrian navy. on my asking him how he liked that service, he answered, "very well; for we rarely go out to the mediterranean; our home-ports, venice and trieste, are agreeable, and our usual station in the levant is smyrna, which is equally pleasant. the austrian vessels being generally frigates of moderate size, the officers live in a more friendly and comfortable way than if they were of heavier metal. but were i not a surgeon, i should prefer the wider sphere of distinction which colonial and trans-oceanic life and incident opens to the british naval officer; for i, myself, once made a voyage to the brazils." we now went to see the handsome new bridge in course of construction over the morava. the architect, a certain baron cordon, who had been bred a military engineer, happened to be there at the time, and obligingly explained the details. at every step i see the immense advantages which this country derives from its vicinity to austria in a material point of view; and yet the austrian and servian governments seem perpetually involved in the most inexplicable squabbles. a gang of poor fellows who had been compromised in the unsuccessful attempts of last year by the obrenovitch party, were working in chains, macadamizing the road. footnotes: [footnote 15: houses or horses; my notes having been written with rapidity, the word is indistinct.] chapter xxii. visit to ravanitza.--jovial party.--servian and austrian jurisdiction.--convent described.--eagles reversed.--bulgarian festivities. the natchalnik having got up a party, we proceeded in light cars of the country to ravanitza, a convent two or three hours off in the mountains to the eastward. the country was gently undulating, cultivated, and mostly inclosed, the roads not bad, and the _ensemble_ such as english landscapes were represented to be half a century ago. when we approached ravanitza we were again lost in the forest. ascending by the side of a mountain-rill, the woods opened, and the convent rose in an amphitheatre at the foot of an abrupt rocky mountain; a pleasing spot, but wanting the grandeur and beauty of the sites on the bosniac frontier. [illustration: ravanitza.] the superior was a tall, polite, middle-aged man. "i expected you long ago," said he; "the archbishop advised me of your arrival: but we thought something might have happened, or that you had missed us." "i prolonged my tour," said i, "beyond the limits of my original project. the circumstance of this convent having been the burial-place of knes lasar, was a sufficient motive for my on no account missing a sight of it." the superior now led us into the refectory, where a long table had been laid out for dinner, for with the number of tiuprians, as well as the monks of this convent, and some from the neighbouring convent of manasia, we mustered a very numerous and very gay party. the wine was excellent; and i could not help thinking with the jovial abbot of quimper: "quand nos joyeux verres se font des le matin, tout le jour, mes freres, devient un festin." by dint of _interlarding_ my discourse with sundry apophthegms of _bacon_, and stale paradoxes of rochefoucaud, i passed current throughout servia considerably above my real value; so after the usual toasts due to the powers that be, the superior proposed my health in a very long harangue. before i had time to reply, the party broke into the beautiful hymn for longevity, which i had heard pealing in the cathedral of belgrade for the return of wucics and petronievitch. i assured them that i was unworthy of such an honour, but could not help remarking that this hymn "for many years" immediately after the drinking of a health, was one of the most striking and beautiful customs i had noticed in servia. a very curious discussion arose after dinner, relative to the different footing of servians in austria, and austrians in servia. the former when in austria, are under the austrian law; the latter in servia, under the jurisdiction of their own consul. being appealed to, i explained that in former times the ottoman sultans easily permitted consular jurisdiction in turkey, without stipulating corresponding privileges for their own subjects; for christendom, and particularly austria, was considered _dar el harb_, or perpetually the seat of war, in which it was illegal for subjects of the sultan to reside. in the afternoon we made a survey of the convent and church, which were built by knes lasar, and surrounded by a wall and seven towers. the church, like all the other edifices of this description, is byzantine; but being built of stone, wants the refinement which shone in the sculptures and marbles of studenitza. i remarked, however, that the cupolas were admirably proportioned and most harmoniously disposed. before entering i looked above the door, and perceived that the double eagles carved there are reversed. instead of having body to body, and wings and beaks pointed outwards, as in the arms of austria and russia, the bodies are separated, and beak looks inward to beak. on entering we were shown the different vessels, one of which is a splendid cup, presented by peter the great, and several of the same description from the empress catharine, some in gold, silver, and steel; others in gold, silver, and bronze. the body of knes lasar, after having been for some time hid, was buried here in 1394, remained till 1684, at which period it was taken over to virdnik in syrmium, where it remains to this day. in the cool of the evening the superior took me to a spring of clear delicious water, gushing from rocks environed with trees. a boy with a large crystal goblet, dashed it into the clear lymph, and presented it to me. the superior fell into eulogy of his favourite valclusa, and i drank not only this but several glasses, with circumstantial criticisms on its excellence; so that the superior seemed delighted at my having rendered such ample justice to the water he so loudly praised, _entre nous_,--the excellence of his wine, and the toasts that we had drunk to the health of innumerable loyal and virtuous individuals, rendered me a greater amateur of water-bibbing than usual. after some time we returned, and saw a lamb roasting for supper in the open air; a hole being dug in the earth, chopped vine-twigs are burnt below it, the crimson glow of which soon roasts the lamb, and imparts a particular fragrance to the flesh. after supper we went out in the mild dark evening to a mount, where a bonfire blazed and glared on the high square tower of the convent, and cushions were laid for chibouques and coffee. the not unpleasing drone of bagpipes resounded through the woods, and a number of bulgarians executed their national dance in a circle, taking hold of each other's girdle, and keeping time with the greatest exactness. chapter xxiii. manasia--has preserved its middle-age character.--robinson crusoe.--wonderful echo.--kindness of the people.--svilainitza.--posharevatz.--baby giantess. next day, accompanied by the doctor, and a portion of the party of yesterday, we proceeded to the convent of manasia, five hours off; our journey being mostly through forests, with the most wretched roads. sometimes we had to cross streams of considerable depth; at other places the oaks, arching over head, almost excluded the light: at length, on doubling a precipitous promontory of rock, a wide open valley burst upon us, at the extremity of which we saw the donjons and crenellated towers of a perfect feudal castle surrounding and fencing in the domes of an antique church. again i say, that those who wish to see the castellated monuments of the middle ages just as they were left by the builders, must come to this country. with us in old europe, they are either modernized or in ruins, and in many of them every tower and gate reflects the taste of a separate period; some edifices showing a grotesque progress from gothic to italian, and from italian to roman _a la louis quinze_: a succession which corresponds with the portraits within doors, which begin with coats of mail, or padded velvet, and end with bag-wigs and shoe-buckles. but here, at manasia, "the battle towers, the donjon keep, the loophole grates, where captives weep. the flanking walls that round it sweep, in yellow lustre shone;" and we were quietly carried back to the year of our lord 1400; for this castle and church were built by stephan, despot of servia, the son of knes lasar. stephan, instead of being "the czar of all the servian lands and coasts," became a mere hospodar, who must do as he was bid by his masters, the turks. manasia being entirely secluded from the world, the monastic establishment was of a humbler and simpler nature than that of ravanitza, and the monks, good honest men, but mere peasants in cowls. after dinner, a strong broad-faced monk, whom i recognized as having been of the company at ravanitza, called for a bumper, and began in a solemn matter-of-fact way, the following speech: "you are a great traveller in our eyes; for none of us ever went further than syrmium. the greatest traveller of your country that we know of was that wonderful navigator, robinson crusoe, of york, who, poor man, met with many and great difficulties, but at length, by the blessing of god, was restored to his native country, his family, and his friends. we trust that the almighty will guard over you, and that you will never, in the course of your voyages and travels, be thrown like him on a desert island; and now we drink your health, and long life to you." when the toast was drunk, i thanked the company, but added that from the revolutions in locomotion, i ran a far greater chance now-a-days of being blown out of a steam-boat, or smashed to pieces on a railway. from the rocks above manasia is one of the most remarkable echoes i ever heard; at the distance of sixty or seventy yards from one of the towers the slightest whisper is rendered with the most amusing exactness. from manasia we went to miliva, where the peasantry were standing in a row, by the side of a rustic tent, made of branches of trees. grapes, roast fowl, &c. were laid out for us; but thanking them for their proffered hospitality, we passed on. from this place the road to svilainitza is level, the country fertile, and more populous than we had seen any where else in servia. at some places the villagers had prepared bouquets; at another place a school, of fifty or sixty children, was drawn up in the street, and sang a hymn of welcome. at svilainitza the people would not allow me to go any further; and we were conducted to the chateau of m. ressavatz, the wealthiest man in servia. this villa is the _fac simile_ of the new ones in the banat of temesvav, having the rooms papered, a luxury in servia, where the most of the rooms, even in good houses, are merely size-coloured. svilainitza is remarkable, as the only place in servia where silk is cultivated to any extent, the ressavatz family having paid especial attention to it. in fact, svilainitza means the place of silk. from svilainitza, we next morning started for posharevatz, or passarovitz, by an excellent macadamized road, through a country richly cultivated and interspersed with lofty oaks. i arrived at mid-day, and was taken to the house of m. tutsakovitch, the president of the court of appeal, who had expected us on the preceding evening. he was quite a man of the world, having studied jurisprudence in the austrian universities. the outer chamber, or hall of his house, was ranged with shining pewter plates in the olden manner, and his best room was furnished in the best german style. in a few minutes m. ressavatz, the natchalnik, came, a serious but friendly man, with an eye that bespoke an expansive intellect. "this part of servia," said i, "is _ressavatz qua_, _ressavatz la_. we last night slept at your brother's house, at svilainitza, which is the only chateau i have seen in servia; and to-day the rapid and agreeable journey i made hither was due to the macadamized road, which, i am told, you were the means of constructing." the natchalnik bowed, and the president said, "this road originated entirely with m. ressavatz, who went through a world of trouble before he could get the peasantry of the intervening villages to lend their assistance. great was the first opposition to the novelty; but now the people are all delighted at being able to drive in winter without sinking up to their horses' knees in mud." we now proceeded to view the government buildings, which are all new, and in good order, being somewhat more extensive than those elsewhere; for posharevatz, besides having ninety thousand inhabitants in its own _nahie_,[16] or government, is a sort of judicial capital for eastern servia. the principal edifice is a barrack, but the regular troops were at this time all at shabatz. the president showed me through the court of appeal. most of the apartments were occupied with clerks, and fitted up with shelves for registers. the court of justice was an apartment larger than the rest, without a raised bench, having merely a long table, covered with a green cloth, at one end of which was a crucifix and gospels, for the taking of oaths, and the seats for the president and assessors. we then went to the billiard-room with the natchalnik, and played a couple of games, both of which i lost, although the natchalnik, from sheer politeness, played badly; and at sunset we returned to the president's house, where a large party was assembled to dinner. we then adjourned to the comfortable inner apartment, where, as the chill of autumn was beginning to creep over us, we found a blazing fire; and the president having made some punch, that showed profound acquaintance with the jurisprudence of conviviality, the best amateurs of posharevatz sang their best songs, which pleased me somewhat, for my ears had gradually been broken into the habits of the servian muse. being pressed myself to sing an english national song, i gratified their curiosity with "god save the queen," and "rule britannia," explaining that these two songs contained the essence of english nationality: the one expressive of our unbounded loyalty, the other of our equally unbounded ocean dominion. _president_. "you have been visiting the rocks and mountains of servia; but there is a natural curiosity in this neighbourhood, which is much more wonderful. have you heard of the baby giantess?" _author_. "yes, i have. i was told that a child was six feet high, and a perfect woman." _president_. "no, a child of two years and three months is as big as other children of six or seven years, and her womanhood such as is usual in girls of sixteen." _author_. "it is almost incredible." _president_. "well, you may convince yourself with your own eyes, before you leave this blessed town." the natchalnik then called a momke, and gave orders for the child to be brought next day. at the appointed hour the father and mother came with the child. it was indeed a baby giantess, higher than its brother, who was six years of age. its hands were thick and strong, the flesh plump, and the mammae most prominently developed. seeing the room filled with people, it began to cry, but its attention being diverted by a nodding mandarin of stucco provided for the purpose, the nurse enabled us to verify all the president had said. this phenomenon was born the 29th of june, 1842, old style, and the lunar influences were in operation on the tenth month after birth. i remarked to the president, that if the father had more avarice than decency, he might go to europe, and return with his weight in gold. footnotes: [footnote 16: _nahie_ is a turkish word, and meant "_district_." the original word means "_direction_," and is applied to winds, and the point of the compass.] chapter xxiv. rich soil.--mysterious waters.--treaty of passarovitz.--the castle of semendria--relics of the antique.--the brankovitch family.--pancsova.--morrison's pills. the soil at posharevatz is remarkably rich, the greasy humus being from fifteen to twenty-five feet thick, and consequently able to nourish the noblest forest trees. in the banat, which is the granary of the austrian empire, trees grow well for fifteen, twenty, or twenty-five years, and then die away. the cause of this is, that the earth, although rich, is only from three to six feet thick, with sand or cold clay below; thus as soon as the roots descend to the substrata, in which they find no nourishment, rottenness appears on the top branches, and gradually descends. at kruahevitza, not very far from pasharevatz, is a cave, which is, i am told, entered with difficulty, into the basin of which water gradually flows at intervals, and then disappears, as the doctor of the place (a saxon) told me, with an extraordinary noise resembling the molar rumble of railway travelling. this spring is called potainitza, or the mysterious waters. posharevatz, miscalled passarowitz, is historically remarkable, as the place where prince eugene, in 1718, after his brilliant victories of the previous year, including the capture of belgrade, signed, with the turks, the treaty which gave back to the house of austria not only the whole of hungary, but added great part of servia and little wallachia, as far as the aluta. with this period began the austrian rule in servia, and at this time the french fashioned lange gasse of belgrade rose amid the "swelling domes and pointed minarets of the white eagle's nest."[17] several quaint incidents had recalled this period during my tour. for instance, at manasia, i saw rudely engraven on the church wall,- wolfgang zastoff, kaiserlicher forst-meister im maidan. die 1 aug. 1721. semendria is three hours' ride from posharevatz; the road crosses the morava, and everywhere the country is fertile, populous, and well cultivated. innumerable massive turrets, mellowed by the sun of a clear autumn, and rising from wide rolling waters, announced my approach to the shores of the danube. i seemed entering one of those fabled strong holds, with which the early italian artists adorned their landscapes. if semendria be not the most picturesque of the servian castles of the elder period, it is certainly by far the most extensive of them. nay, it is colossal. the rampart next the danube has been shorn of its fair proportions, so as to make it suit the modern art of war. looking at semendria from one of the three land sides, you have a castle of ercole di ferrara; looking at it from the water, you have the boulevard of a van der meulen. the natchalnik accompanied me in a visit to the fortress, protected from accident by a couple of soldiers; for the castle of semendria is still, like that of shabatz, in the hands of a few turkish spahis and their families. the news from shabatz having produced a alight ferment, we found several armed moslems at the gate; but they did not allow the servians to pass, with the exception of the natchalnik and another man. "this is new," said he; "i never knew them to be so wary and suspicious before." we now found ourselves within the walls of the fortress. a shabby wooden _cafe_ was opposite to us; a mosque of the same material rose with its worm-eaten carpentry to our right. the cadi, a pompous vulgar old man, now met us, and signified that we might as well repose at his chardak, but from inhospitality or fanaticism, gave us neither pipes nor coffee. his worship was so proud, that he scarcely deigned to speak. the disdar aga, a somewhat more approximative personage, now entered the tottering chardak, (the carpenters of semendria seem to have emigrated _en masse_,) and proffered himself as cicerone of the castle. mean and abominable huts, with patches of garden ground filled up the space inclosed by the gorgeous ramparts and massive towers of semendria. the further we walked the nobler appeared the last relic of the dotage of old feudal servia. in one of the towers next the danube is a sculptured roman tombstone. one graceful figure points to a sarcophagus, close to which a female sits in tears; in a word, a remnant of the antique--of that harmony which dies not away, but swells on the finer organs of perception. "_eski, eski_. very old," said the disdar aga, who accompanied me. "it is roman," said i. "_roumgi_?" said he, thinking i meant _greek_. "no, _latinski_," said a third, which is the name usually given to _roman_ remains. as at sokol and ushitza, i was not permitted to enter the inner citadel;[18] so, returning to the gate, where we were rejoined by the soldiers, we went to the fourth tower, on the left of the stamboul kapu, and looking up, we saw inserted and forming part of the wall, a large stone, on which was cut, in _basso rilievo_, a figure of europa reposing on a bull. here was no fragile grace, as in the other figure; a few simple lines bespoke the careless hardihood of antique art. the castle of semendria was built in 1432, by the brankovitch, who succeeded the family of knes lasar as _despots_, or native rulers of servia, under the turks; and the construction of this enormous pile was permitted by their masters, under the pretext of the strengthening of servia against the hungarians. the last of these _despots_ of servia was george brankovitch, the historian, who passed over to austria, was raised to the dignity of a count; and after being kept many years as a state prisoner, suspected of secret correspondence with the turks, died at eger, in bohemia, in 1711. the legitimate brankovitch line is now extinct.[19] leaving the fortress, we returned to the natchalnik's house. i was struck with the size, beauty, and flavour of the grapes here; i have nowhere tasted such delicious fruit of this description. "groja smederevsko" are celebrated through all servia, and ought to make excellent wine. the road from semendria to belgrade skirts the danube, across which one sees the plains of the banat and military frontier. the only place of any consequence on that side of the river is pancsova, the sight of which reminded me of a conversation i had there some years ago. the major of the town, after swallowing countless boxes of morrison's pills, died in the belief that he had not begun to take them soon enough. the consumption of these drugs at that time almost surpassed belief. there was scarcely a sickly or hypochondriac person, from the hill of presburg to the iron gates, who had not taken large quantities of them. being curious to know the cause of this extensive consumption, i asked for an explanation. "you must know," said an individual, "that the anglo-mania is nowhere stronger than in this part of the world. whatever comes from england, be it congreve rockets, or vegetable pills, must needs be perfect. dr. morrison is indebted to his high office for the enormous consumption of his drugs. it is clear that the president of the british college must be a man in the enjoyment of the esteem of the government and the faculty of medicine; and his title is a passport to his pills in foreign countries." i laughed heartily, and explained that the british college of health, and the college of physicians, were not identical. the road from this point to belgrade presents no particular interest. half an hour from the city i crossed the celebrated trenches of marshal laudohn; and rumbling through a long cavernous gateway, called the stamboul kapousi, or gate of constantinople, again found myself in belgrade, thankful for the past, and congratulating myself on the circumstances of my trip. i had seen a state of patriarchal manners, the prominent features of which will be at no distant time rolled flat and smooth, by the pressure of old europe, and the salient angles of which will disappear through the agency of the hotel and the stagecoach, with its bevy of tourists, who, with greater facilities for seeing the beauties of nature, will arrive and depart, shrouded from the mass of the people, by the mercenaries that hang on the beaten tracks of the traveller. footnotes: [footnote 17: in servian, belgrade is called beograd, "white city;"--poetically, "white eagle's nest."] [footnote 18: i think that a traveller ought to see all that he can; but, of course, has no right to feel surprised at being excluded from citadels.] [footnote 19: one of the representatives of the ancient imperial family is the earl of devon, for urosh the great married helen of courtenay.] chapter xxv. personal appearance of the servians.--their moral character.--peculiarities of manners.--christmas festivities.--easter.--the dodola. the servians are a remarkably tall and robust race of men; in form and feature they bespeak strength of body and energy of mind: but one seldom sees that thorough-bred look, which, so frequently found in the poorest peasants of italy and greece, shows that the descendants of the most polite of the ancients, although disinherited of dominion, have not lost the corporeal attributes of nobility. but the women of servia i think very pretty. in body they are not so well shaped as the greek women; but their complexions are fine, the hair generally black and glossy, and their head-dress particularly graceful. not being addicted to the bath, like other eastern women, they prolong their beauty beyond the average climacteric; and their houses, with rooms opening on a court-yard and small garden, are favourable to health and beauty. they are not exposed to the elements as the men; nor are they cooped up within four walls, like many eastern women, without a sufficient circulation of air. through all the interior of servia, the female is reckoned an inferior being, and fit only to be the plaything of youth and the nurse of old age. this peculiarity of manners has not sprung from the four centuries of turkish occupation, but appears to have been inherent in old slaavic manners, and such as we read of in russia, a very few generations ago; but as the european standard is now rapidly adopted at belgrade, there can be little doubt that it will thence, in the course of time, spread over all servia. the character of the servian closely resembles that of the scottish highlander. he is brave in battle, highly hospitable; delights in simple and plaintive music and poetry, his favourite instruments being the bagpipe and fiddle: but unlike the greek be shows little aptitude for trade; and unlike the bulgarian, he is very lazy in agricultural operations. all this corresponds with the scottish celtic character; and without absolute dishonesty, a certain low cunning in the prosecution of his material interests completes the parallel. the old customs of servia are rapidly disappearing under the pressure of laws and european institutions. many of these could not have existed except in a society in which might made right. one of these was the vow of eternal brotherhood and friendship between two individuals; a treaty offensive and defensive, to assist each other in the difficult passages of life. this bond is considered sacred and indissoluble. frequently remarkable instances of it are found in the wars of kara georg. but now that regular guarantees for the security of life and property exist, the custom appears to have fallen into desuetude. these confederacies in the dual state, as in servia, or multiple, as in the clan system of scotland and albania, are always strongest in turbulent times and regions.[20] another of the old customs of servia was sufficiently characteristic of its lawless state. abduction of females was common. sometimes a young man would collect a party of his companions, break into a village, and carry off a maiden. to prevent re-capture they generally went into the woods, where the nuptial knot was tied by a priest _nolens volens_. then commenced the negotiation for a reconciliation with the parents, which was generally successful; as in many instances the female had been the secret lover of the young man, and the other villagers used to add their persuasion, in order to bring about a pacific solution. but if the relations of the girl mode a legal affair of it, the young woman was asked if it was by her own will that she was taken away; and if she made the admission then a reconciliation took place: if not, those concerned in the abduction were fined, kara georg put a stop to this by proclamation, punishing the author of an abduction with death, the priest with dismissal, and the assistants with the bastinado. the haiducks, or outlawed robbers, who during the first quarter of the present century infested the woods of servia, resembled the caterans of the highlands of scotland, being as much rebels as robbers, and imagined that in setting authority at defiance they were not acting dishonourably, but combating for a principle of independence. they robbed only the rich moslems, and were often generous to the poor. thus robbery and rebellion being confounded, the term haiduck is not considered opprobrious; and several old servians have confessed to me that they had been haiducks in their youth, i am sure that the adventures of a servian rob roy might form the materials of a stirring romance. there are many haiducks still in bosnia, herzegovina, and on the western balkan; but the race in servia is extinct, and plunder is the only object of the few robbers who now infest the woods in the west of servia. such are the customs that have just disappeared; but many national peculiarities still remain. at christmas, for instance, every peasant goes to the woods, and cuts down a young oak; as soon as he returns home, which is in the twilight; he says to the assembled family, "a happy christmas eve to the house;" on which a male of the family scatters a little grain on the ground and answers, "god be gracious to you, our happy and honoured father." the housewife then lays the young oak on the fire, to which are thrown a few nuts and a little straw, and the evening ends in merriment. next day, after divine service, the family assemble around the dinner table, each bearing a lighted candle; and they say aloud, "christ is born: let us honour christ and his birth." the usual christmas drink is hot wine mixed with honey. they have also the custom of first foot. this personage is selected beforehand, under the idea that he will bring luck with him for the ensuing year. on entering the first foot says, "christ is born!" and receives for answer, "yes, he is born!" while the first foot scatters a few grains of corn on the floor. he then advances and stirs up the wood on the fire, so that it crackles and emits sparks; on which the first foot says, "as many sparks so many cattle, so many horses, so many goats, so many sheep, so many boars, so many bee hives, and so much luck and prosperity.'" he then throws a little money into the ashes, or hangs some hemp on the door; and christmas ends with presents and festivities. at easter, they amuse themselves with the game of breaking hard-boiled eggs, having first examined those of an opponent to see that they are not filled with wax. from this time until ascension day the common formula of greeting is "christ has arisen!" to which answer is made, "yes; he has truly arisen or ascended!" and on the second monday after easter the graves of dead relations are visited. one of the most extraordinary customs of servia is that of the dodola. when a long drought has taken place, a handsome young woman is stripped, and so dressed up with grass, flowers, cabbage and other leaves, that her face is scarcely visible; she then, in company with several girls of twelve or fifteen years of age, goes from house to house singing a song, the burden of which is a wish for rain. it is then the custom of the mistress of the house at which the dodola is stopped to throw a little water on her. this custom used also to be kept up in the servian districts of hungary; but has been forbidden by the priests. footnotes: [footnote 20: the most perfect confederacy of this description is that of the druses, which has stood the test of eight centuries, and in its secret organization is complete beyond any thing attained by freemasonry.] chapter xxvi. town life.--the public offices.--manners half-oriental half-european.--merchants and tradesmen.--turkish population.--porters.--barbers.--cafes.--public writer. on passing from the country to the town the politician views with interest the transitional state of society: but the student of manners finds nothing salient, picturesque, or remarkable; everything is verging to german routine. if you meet a young man in any department, and ask what he does; he tells you that he is a concepist or protocollist. in the public offices, the paper is, as in germany, atrociously coarse, being something like that with which parcels are wrapped up in england; and sand is used instead of blotting paper. they commence business early in the morning, at eight o'clock, and go on till twelve, at which hour everybody goes to the mid-day meal. they commence again at four o'clock, and terminate at seven, which is the hour of supper. the reason of this is, that almost everybody takes a siesta. the public offices throughout the interior of servia are plain houses, with white-washed walls, deal desks, shelves, and presses, but having been recently built, have generally a respectable appearance. the chancery of state and senate house are also quite new constructions, close to the palace; but in the country, a natchalnik transacts a great deal of business in his own house. servia contains within itself the forms of the east and the west, as separately and distinctly as possible. see a natchalnik in the back woods squatted on his divan, with his enormous trowsers, smoking his pipe, and listening to the contents of a paper, which his secretary, crouching and kneeling on the carpet, reads to him, and you have the bey, the kaimacam, or the mutsellim before you. see m. petronievitch scribbling in his cabinet, and you have the _furstlicher haus-hof-staats-und conferenz-minister_ of the meridian of saxe or hesse. servia being an agricultural country, and not possessing a sea-port, there does not exist an influential, mercantile, or capitalist class _per se_. greeks, jews, and tsinsars, form a considerable proportion of those engaged in the foreign trade: it is to be remarked that most of this class are secret adherents of the obrenovitch party, while the wealthy native servians support kara georgevitch. in belgrade, the best tradesmen are germans, or servians, who have learned their business at pesth; or temeswar; but nearly all the retailers are servians. having treated so fully the aspects and machinery of oriental life, in my work on native society in damascus and aleppo, it is not necessary that i should say here any thing of moslem manners and customs. the turks in belgrade are nearly all of a very poor class, and follow the humblest occupations. the river navigation causes many hands to be employed in boating; and it always seemed to me that the proportion of the turbans on the river exceeded that of the christian short fez. most of the porters on the quay of belgrade are turks in their turbans, which gives the landing-place, on arrival from semlin, a more oriental look than the moslem population of the town warrants. from the circumstance of trucks being nearly unknown in this country, these turkish porters carry weights that would astonish an englishman, and show great address in balancing and dividing heavy weights among them. most of the barbers in belgrade are turks, and have that superior dexterity which distinguishes their craft in the east. there are also christian barbers; but the moslems are in greater force. i never saw any servian shave himself; nearly all resort to the barber. even the christian barbers, in imitation of the oriental fashion, shave the straggling edges of the eyebrows, and with pincers tug out the small hairs of the nostrils. the native _cafes_ are nearly all kept by moslems; one, as i have stated elsewhere, by an arab, born in oude in india; another by a jew, which is frequented by the children of israel, and is very dirty. i once went in to smoke a narghile, and see the place, but made my escape forthwith. several jews, who spoke spanish to each other, were playing backgammon on a raised bench, and seemed to have in their furs and dresses that "_malproprete profonde et huileuse_" which m. de custine tells us characterizes the dirt of the north as contrasted with that of the southern nations. the _cafe_ of the indian, on the contrary, was perfectly clean and new. moslem boatmen, porters, barbers, &c. serve christians and all and sundry. but in addition to these, there is a sort of bazaar in the turkish quarter, occupied by tradespeople, who subsist almost exclusively by the wants of their co-religionists living in the quarter, as well as of the turkish garrison in the fortress. the only one of this class who frequented me, was the public writer, who had several assistants; he was not a native of belgrade, but a bulgarian turk from ternovo. he drew up petitions to the pasha in due form, and, moreover, engraved seals very neatly. his assistants, when not engaged in either of these occupations, copied korans for sale. his own handwriting was excellent, and he knew all the styles, arab, deewanee, persian, reka, &c. what keeps him mostly in my mind, was the delight with which he entered into, and illustrated, the proverbs at the end of m. joubert's grammar, which the secretary of the russian consul-general had lent him. some of the proverbs are so applicable to oriental manners, that i hope the reader will excuse the digression. "kiss the hand thou hast not been able to cut." "hide thy friend's name from thine enemy." "eat and drink with thy friend; never buy and sell with him." "this is a fast day, said the cat, seeing the liver she could not get at." "of three things one--power, gold, or quit the town." "the candle does not light its base." "the orphan cuts his own navel-string," &c. the rural population of servia must necessarily advance slowly, but each five years, for a generation to come, will,--i have little doubt,--alter the aspect of the town population, as much relatively as the five that are by-gone. let the lines of railway now in progress from belgium to hungary be completed, and belgrade may again become a stage in the high road to the east. a line by the valleys of the morava and the maritsa, with its large towns, philippopoli and adrianople, is certainly not more chimerical and absurd than many that are now projected. who can doubt of its _ultimate_ accomplishment, in spite of the alternate precipitancy and prostration of enterprise? meanwhile imagination loses itself in attempting to picture the altered face of affairs in these secluded regions, when subjected to the operation of a revolution, which posterity will pronounce to be greater than those which made the fifteenth century the morning of the just terminated period of civilization. chapter xxvii. poetry.--journalism.--the fine arts.--the lyceum.--mineralogical cabinet.--museum.--servian education. in the whole range of the slaavic family there is no nation possessing so extensive a collection of excellent popular poetry. the romantic beauty of the region which they inhabit, the relics of a wild mythology, which, in its general features, has some resemblance to that of greece and scandinavia,--the adventurous character of the population, the vicissitudes of guerilla warfare, and a hundred picturesque incidents which are lost to the muses when war is carried on on a large scale by standing armies, are all given in a dialect, which, for musical sweetness, is to other slavonic tongues what the italian is to the languages of western europe.[21] the journalism of servia began at vienna; and a certain m. davidovitch was for many years the interpreter of europe to his less enlightened countrymen. the journal which he edited is now published at pesth, and printed in cyrillian letters. there were in 1843 two newspapers at belgrade, the _state gazette_ and the _courier_; but the latter has since been dropped, the editor having vainly attempted to get its circulation allowed in the servian districts of hungary. many copies were smuggled over in boats, but it was an unremunerating speculation; and the editor, m. simonovitch, who was bred a hungarian advocate, is now professor of law in the lyceum. yankee hyperbole was nothing to the high flying of this gentleman. in one number, i recollect the passage, "these are the reasons why all the people of servia, young and old, rich and poor, danced and shouted for joy, when the lord gave them as a prince a son of the never-to-be-forgotten kara georg." a croatian newspaper, containing often very interesting information on bosnia, is published at agram, the language being the same as the servian, but printed in roman instead of cyrillian letters. the _state gazette_ of belgrade gives the news of the interior and exterior, but avoids all reflections on the policy of russia or austria. an article, which i wrote on servia for an english publication, was reproduced in a translation minus all the allusions to these two powers; and i think that, considering the dependent position of servia, abstinence from such discussions is dictated by the soundest policy. the "golubitza," or dove, a miscellany in prose and verse, neatly got up in imitation of the german taschenbucher, and edited by m. hadschitch, is the only annual in servia. in imitation of more populous cities, belgrade has also a "literary society," for the formation of a complete dictionary of the language, and the encouragement of popular literature. i could not help smiling at the thirteenth statute of the society, which determines that the seal should represent an uncultivated field, with the rising sun shining on a monument, on which the arms of servia are carved. the fine arts are necessarily at a very low ebb in servia. the useful being so imperfect, the ornamental scarcely exists at all. the pictures in the churches are mostly in the byzantine manner, in which deep browns and dark reds are relieved with gilding, while the subjects are characterized by such extravagancies as one sees in the pictures of the early german painters, a school which undoubtedly took its rise from the importations of byzantine pictures at venice, and their expedition thence across the alps. at present everything artistic in servia bears a coarse german impress, such as for instance the pictures in the cathedral of belgrade. thus has civilization performed one of her great evolutions. the light that set on the thracian bosphorus rose in the opposite direction from the land of the once barbarous hermans, and now feebly re-illumines the modern servia. one of the most hopeful institutions of belgrade is the lyceum, or germ of a university, as they are proud to call it. one day i went to see it, along with professor shafarik, and looked over the mineralogical collection made in servia, by baron herder, which included rich specimens of silver, copper, and lead ore, as well as marble, white as that of carrara. the studenitza marble is slightly grey, but takes a good polish. the coal specimens were imperfectly petrified, and of bad quality, the progress of ignition being very slow. servia is otherwise rich in minerals; but it is lamentable to see such vast wealth dormant, since none of the mines are worked. we then went to an apartment decorated like a little ball-room, which is what is called the cabinet of antiquities. a noble bronze head, tying on the german stove, in the corner of the room, a handsome roman lamp and some antique coins, were all that could be shown of the ancient moesia; but there is a fair collection of byzantine and servian coins, the latter struck in the venetian manner, and resembling old sequins. a parchment document, which extended to twice the length of a man, was now unrolled, and proved to be a patent of stephan urosh, the father of stephan dushan, endowing the great convent of dechani, in albania. another curiosity in the collection is the first banner of kara georg, which the servians consider as a national relic. it is in red silk, and bears the emblem of the cross, with the inscription "jesus christ conquers." we then went to the professor's room, which was furnished with the newest russ, bohemian, and other slaavic publications, and after a short conversation visited the classes then sitting. the end of education in servia being practical, prominence is given to geometry, natural philosophy, slaavic history and literature, &c. latin and greek are admitted to have been the keys to polite literature, some two centuries and a half ago; but so many lofty and noble chambers having been opened since then, and routine having no existence in servia, her youth are not destined to spend a quarter of a lifetime in the mere nurseries of humanity. footnotes: [footnote 21: to those who take an interest in this subject, i have great pleasure in recommending a perusal of "servian popular poetry," (london, 1827,) translated by dr. bowring; but the introductory matter, having been written nearly twenty years ago, is, of course, far from being abreast of the present state of information on the subjects of which it treats.] chapter xxviii. preparations for departure.--impressions of the east.--prince alexander.--the palace.--kara georg. the gloom of november now darkens the scene; the yellow leaves sweep round the groves of the topshider, and an occasional blast from the frusca gora, ruffling the danube with red turbid waves, bids me begone; so i take up pen to indite my last memoranda, and then for england ho! some pleasant parties were given by m. fonblanque, and his colleagues; but although i have freely made dutch pictures of the "natives," i do not feel at liberty to be equally circumstantial with the inexhaustible wit and good humour of our hospitable consul-general. i have preserved only a scrap of a conversation which passed at the dinner table of colonel danilefsky, the russian agent, which shows the various impressions of franks in the east. a.b.c.d. discovered. _a_. "of all the places i have seen in the east, i certainly prefer constantinople. not so much for its beauty; since habit reconciles one to almost any scene. but because one can there command a greater number of those minor european comforts, which make up the aggregate of human happiness." _b_. "i am not precisely of your way of thinking. i look back to my residence at cairo with pleasure, and would like well enough to spend another winter there. the turkish houses here are miserable barracks, cold in winter, and unprotected from the sun in summer." _c_. "the word east is certainly more applicable to the arab than the turkish countries." _d_. "i have seen only constantinople, and think that it deserves all that byron and anastasius have said of it." _c_. "i am afraid that a. has received his impressions of the east from central asia, which is a somewhat barbarous country." _a_. "_pardonnez-moi_. the valley of the oxus is well cultivated, but the houses are none of the best." _b_. "i give my voice for cairo. it is a city full of curious details, as well in its architecture, as in its street population; to say nothing of its other resources--its pleasant promenades, and the occasional society of men of taste and letters--'_mais il faut aimer la chaleur_.'" _c_. "well, then, we will take the winter of cairo; the spring of damascus, and the summer of the bosphorus." m. petronievitch took me to see the prince, who has got into his new residence outside the constantinople gate, which looks like one of the villas one sees in the environs of vienna. in the centre of the parterre is a figure with a trident, which represents the morava, the national river of servia, and is in reality a roman statue found near grotzka. the usual allowance of sentries, sentry-boxes, and striped palisades stood at the entrance, and we were shown into an apartment, half in the german, and half in the oriental style. the divan cover was embroidered with gold thread. the prince now entered, and received me with an easy self-possession that showed no trace of the reserve and timidity which foreigners had remarked a year before. "new honours ... like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould but with the aid of use." _prince_. "i expected to have seen you at topola. we had a large assemblage of the peasantry, and an ecclesiastical festival, such as they are celebrated in servia." _author_. "your highness may rest assured that had i known that, i should not have failed to go. at tronosha i saw a similar festival, and i am firmly convinced that no peasantry in europe is freer from want." _prince_. "every beginning is difficult; our principle must be, 'endeavour and progress.' were you pleased with your tour?" _author_. "i think that your highness has one of the most romantic principalities in europe. without the grandeur of the alps, servia has more than the beauty of the apennines." _prince_. "the country is beautiful, but i wish to see agriculture prosper." _author_. "i am happy to hear that: your highness's father had a great name as a soldier; i hope that your rule will be distinguished by rapid advancement in the arts of civilization; that you will be the kara georg of peace." this led to a conversation relative to the late kara georg; and the prince rising, led me into another apartment, where the portrait of his father, the duplicate of one painted for the emperor alexander, hung from the wall. he was represented in the turkish dress, and wore his pistols in his girdle; the countenance expressed not only intelligence but a certain refinement, which one would scarcely expect in a warrior peasant: but all his contemporaries agree in representing him to have possessed an inherent superiority and nobility of nature, which in any station would have raised him above his equals. chapter xxix. a memoir of kara georg. the turkish conquest was followed by the gradual dispersion or disappearance of the native nobility of servia, the last of whom, the brankovitch, lived as _despots_ in the castle of semendria, up to the beginning of the eighteenth century; so that at this moment scarcely a single representative of the old stock is to be found.[22] the nobility of bosnia, occupying the middle region between the sphere of the eastern and western churches, were in a state of religious indifference, although nominally catholic; and in order to preserve their lands and influence, accepted islamism _en masse_; they and the albanians being the only instances, in all the wars of the moslems, of a european nobility embracing the mohamedan faith in a body. chance might have given the bosniacs a leader of energy and military talents. in that case, these men, instead of now wearing turbans in their grim feudal castles, might, frizzed and perfumed, be waltzing in pumps; and shakespear and mozart might now be delighting the citizens assembled in the theatre royal seraievo! the period preceding the second siege of vienna was the spring-tide of islam conquest. after this event, in 1684, began the ebb. hungary was lost to the porte, and six years afterwards thirty-seven thousand servian families emigrated into that kingdom; this first led the way to contact with the civilization of germany: and in the attendance on the austrian schools by the youth of the servian nation during the eighteenth century, were sown the seeds of the now budding civilization of the principality. servia proper, for a short time wrested from the porte by the victories of prince eugene, again became a part of the dominions of the sultan. but a turbulent militia overawed the government and tyrannized over the rayahs. pasvan oglou and his bands at widdin were, at the end of last century, in open revolt against the porte. other chiefs had followed his example; and for the first time the divan thought of associating christian rayahs with the spahis, to put down these rebels, who had organized a system which savoured more of brigandage than of government. they frequently used the holiday dresses of the peasants as horse-cloths, interrupted the divine service of the christian rayahs, and gratified their licentious appetites unrestrained. the dahis, as these brigand-chiefs were called, resolved to anticipate the approaching struggle by a massacre of the most influential christians. this atrocious massacre was carried out with indescribable horrors. in the dead of the night a party of dahis cavasses would surround a house, drive open gates and doors with sledge-hammers; the awakened and affrighted inmates would rush to the windows, and seeing the court-yard filled with armed men with dark lanterns, the shrieks of women and children were added to the confusion; and the unhappy father was often murdered with the half-naked females of his family clinging to his neck, but unable to save him. the rest of the population looked on with silent stupefaction: but kara georg, a peasant, born at topola about the year 1767, getting timely information that his name was in the list of the doomed, fled into the woods, and gradually organized a formidable armed force. his efforts were everywhere successful. in the name of the porte he combated the dahis, who had usurped local authority, in defiance of the pasha of belgrade. the divan, little anticipating the ultimate issue of the struggle in servia, was at first delighted at the success of kara georg; but soon saw with consternation that the rising of the servian peasants grew into a formidable rebellion, and ordered the pashas of bosnia and scodra to assemble all their disposable forces, and invade servia. between forty and fifty thousand bosniacs burst into servia on the west, in the spring of 1806, cutting to pieces all who refused to receive turkish authority. kara georg undauntedly met the storm; with amazing rapidity he marched into the west of servia, cut up in detail several detached bodies of turks, being here much favoured by the broken ground, and put to death several village-elders who had submitted to them. the turks then retired to shabatz; and kara georg at the head of only seven thousand foot and two thousand horse, in all nine thousand men, took up a position at an hour's distance, and threw up trenches. the following is the account which wuk stephanovitch gives of this engagement. "the turks demanded the delivery of the servian arms. the servians answered, 'come and take them.' on two successive mornings the turks came out of shabatz and stormed the breastwork which the servians had thrown up, but without effect. they then sent this message to the servians: 'you have held good for two days; but we will try it again with all our force, and then see whether we give up the country to the drina, or whether we drive you to semendria.' "in the night before the decisive battle (august, 1806,) kara georg sent his cavalry round into a wood, with orders to fall on the enemy's flank as soon as the first shot should be fired. "to the infantry within the breastworks he gave orders that they should not fire until the turks were so close that every shot might tell. by break of day the seraskier with his whole army poured out of his camp at shabatz, the bravest beys of bosnia bearing their banners in the van. the servians waited patiently until they came close, and then opening fire did deadly execution. the standard-bearers fell, confusion ensued, and the servian cavalry issuing from the wood at the same time that kara georg passed the breastworks at the head of the infantry, the defence was changed into an attack; and the rout of the turks was complete. the seraskier kullin was killed, as well as sinan pasha, and several other chiefs. the rest of the turkish army was cut up in the woods, and all the country as far as the drina evacuated by them." the porte saw with astonishment the total failure of its schemes for the re-conquest of servia, resolved to temporize, and agreed to allow them a local and national government with a reduction of tribute; but previous to the ratification of the agreement withdrew its consent to the fortresses going into the hands of christian rayahs; on which kara georg resolved to seize belgrade by stratagem. before daybreak on the 12th of december, 1806, a greek albanian named konda, who had been in the turkish service, and knew belgrade well, but now fought in the christian ranks, accompanied by six servians, passed the ditch and palisades that surrounded the city of belgrade, at a point between two posts so as not to be seen, and proceeding to one of the gates, fell upon the guard, which defended itself well. four of the servians were killed; but the turks being at length overpowered, konda and the two remaining servians broke open the gate with an axe, on which a corps of servians rushed in. the turks being attracted to this point, kara georg passed the ditch at another place with a large force. after a sanguinary engagement in the streets, and the conflagration of many houses, the windows of which served as embrasures to the turks, victory declared for the christians, and the turks took refuge in the citadel. the servians, now in possession of the town, resolved to starve the turks out of the fortress; and having occupied a flat island at the confluence of the save and the danube, were enabled to intercept their provisions; on which the pasha capitulated and embarked for widdin. the succeeding years were passed in the vicissitudes of a guerilla warfare, neither party obtaining any marked success; and an auxiliary corps of russians assisted in preventing the turks from making the re-conquest of servia. baron, subsequently marshal diebitch, on a confidential mission from the russian government in servia during the years 1810, 1811, writes as follows:[23] "george petrovitch, to whom the turks have given the surname of kara or black, is an important character. his countenance shows a greatness of mind, which is not to be mistaken; and when we take into consideration the times, circumstances, and the impossibility of his having received an education, we must admit that he has a mind of a masculine and commanding order. the imputation of cruelty and bloodthirstiness appears to be unjust. when the country was without the shadow of a constitution, and when he commanded an unorganized and uncultivated nation, he was compelled to be severe; he dared not vacillate or relax his discipline: but now that there are courts of law, and legal forms, he hands every case over to the regular tribunals." "he has very little to say for himself, and is rude in his manners; but his judgments in civil affairs are promptly and soundly formed, and to great address he joins unwearied industry. as a soldier, there is but one opinion of his talents, bravery, and enduring firmness." kara georg was now a russian lieutenant-general, and exercised an almost unlimited power in servia; the revolution, after a struggle of eight years, appeared to be successful, but the momentous events then passing in europe, completely altered the aspect of affairs. russia in 1812, on the approach of the countless legions of napoleon, precipitately concluded the treaty of bucharest, the eighth article of which formally assured a separate administration to the servians. next year, however, was fatal to kara georg. in 1813, the vigour of the ottoman empire, undivided by exertions for the prosecution of the russian war, was now concentrated on the re-subjugation of servia. a general panic seemed to seize the nation; and kara georg and his companions in arms sought a retreat on the austrian territory, and thence passed into wallachia. in 1814, three hundred christians were impaled at belgrade by the pasha, and every valley in servia presented the spectacle of infuriated turkish spahis, avenging on the servians the blood, exile, and confiscation of the ten preceding years. footnotes: [footnote 22: the last of the brankovitch line wrote a history of servia; but the most valuable portion of the matter is to be found in raitch, a subsequent historical writer.] [footnote 23: the original is now in the possession of the servian government, and i was permitted to peruse it; but although interesting, it is too long for insertion.] chapter xxx. milosh obrenovitch. at this period milosh obrenovitch appears prominently on the political tapis. he spent his youth in herding the famed swine of servia; and during the revolution was employed by kara georg to watch the passes of the balkan, lest the servians should be taken aback by troops from albania and bosnia. he now saw that a favourable conjuncture had come for his advancement from the position of chieftain to that of chief; he therefore lost no time in making terms with the turks, offering to collect the tribute, to serve them faithfully, and to aid them in the re-subjugation of the people: he was, therefore, loaded with caresses by the turks as a faithful subject of the porte. his offers were at once accepted; and he now displayed singular activity in the extirpation of all the other popular chiefs, who still held out in the woods and fastnesses, and sent their heads to the pasha; but the decapitation of glavash, who was, like himself, supporting the government, showed that when he had accomplished the ends of soliman pasha, his own turn would come; he therefore employed the ruse described in page 55, made his escape, and, convinced that it was impossible ever to come to terms with soliman pasha, raised the standard of open revolt. the people, grown desperate through the ill-treatment of the spahis, who had returned, responded to his call, and rose in a body. the scenes of 1804-5-6, were about to be renewed; but the porte quickly made up its mind to treat with milosh, who behaved, during this campaign, with great bravery, and was generally successful. milosh consequently came to belgrade, made his submission, in the name of the nation, to marashly ali pasha, the governor of belgrade, and was reinstated as tribute-collector for the porte; and the war of mutual extermination was ended by the turks retaining all the castles, as stipulated in the eighth article of the treaty of bucharest. many of the chiefs, impatient at the speedy submission of milosh, wished to fight the matter out, and kara georg, in order to give effect to their plans, landed in servia. milosh pretended to be friendly to his designs, but secretly betrayed his place of concealment to the governor, whose men broke into the cottage where he slept, and put him to death. thus ended the brave and unfortunate kara georg, who was, no doubt, a rebel against his sovereign, the sultan, and, according to turkish law, deserving of death; but this base act of treachery, on the part of milosh, who was not the less a rebel, is justly considered as a stain on his character. m. boue, who made the acquaintance of milosh in 1836, gives a short account of him. milosh rose early to the sound of military music, and then went to his open gallery, where he smoked a pipe, and entered on the business of the day. although able neither to read, write, nor sign his name, he could dictate and correct despatches; and in the evening he caused the articles in the _journal des debats_, the _constitutionnel_, and the _augsburg gazette_, to be translated to him. the belgrade chief of police[24] having offended milosh by the boldness of his language, and having joined the detractors of the prince at a critical moment, although he owed everything to him, milosh ordered his head to be struck off. fortunately his brother prince ievren met the people charged with the bloody commission; he blamed them, and wished to hinder the deed: and knowing that the police director was already on his way to belgrade from posharevatz, where he had been staying, he asked the momkes to return another way, saying they had missed him. the police director thus arrived at belgrade, was overwhelmed with reproaches by milosh, and pardoned. a young man having refused to marry one of his cast-off mistresses, he was enlisted in the army, but after some months submitted to his fate. he used to raise to places, in the turkish fashion, men who were unprepared by their studies for them. one of his cooks became a colonel. another colonel had been a merry-andrew. having once received a good medical advice from his butler, he told him that nature intended him for a doctor, and sent him to study medicine under dr. cunibert. "when milosh sent his meat to market, all other sales were stopped, until he had sold off his own at a higher price than that current, on the ground of the meat being better." "the prince considered all land in servia to belong to him, and perpetually wished to appropriate any property that seemed better than his own, fixing his own price, which was sometimes below the value, which the proprietor dared not refuse to take, whatever labour had been bestowed on it. at kragujevatz, he prevented the completion of the house of m. raditchevitch, because some statues of wood, and ornaments, which were not to be found in his own palace, were in the plan. an almanack having been printed, with a portrait of his niece auka, he caused all the copies to be given back by the subscribers, and the portraits cut out." there can be no doubt, that, after the miserable end of kara georg, and the violent revolutionary wars, an unlimited dictatorship was the best regimen for the restoration of order. milosh was, therefore, many years at the head of affairs of servia before symptoms of opposition appeared. allowances are certainly to be made for him; he had seen no government but the old turkish regime, and had no notion of any other way of governing but by decapitation and confiscation. but this system, which was all very well for a prince of the fifteenth century, exhausted the patience of the new generation, many of whom were bred at the austrian universities. without seeking for democratic institutions, for which servia is totally unfit, they loudly demanded written laws, which should remove life and property from the domain of individual caprice, and which, without affecting the suzerainty of the porte, should bring servia within the sphere of european institutions. they murmured at milosh making a colossal fortune out of the administration of the principality, while he rendered no account of his intromissions, either to the sultan or to the people, and seized lands and houses merely because he took a fancy to them.[25] hence arose the _national party_ in servia, which included nearly all the opulent and educated classes; which is not surprising, since his rule was so stringent that he would allow no carriage but his own to be seen in the streets of belgrade: and, on his fall, so many orders were sent to the coach-makers of pesth, that trade was brisk for all the summer. the details of the debates of the period would exhaust the reader's patience. i shall, therefore, at once proceed to the summing up. 1st. in the nine years' revolt of kara georg nearly the whole sedentary turkish population disappeared from servia, and the ottoman power became, according to their own expression, _assassiz_ (foundationless). 2nd. the eighth article of the treaty of bucharest, concluded by russia with the porte, which remained a dead letter, was followed by the fifth article in the treaty of akerman, formally securing the servians a separate administration. 3rd. the consummate skill with which milosh played his fast and loose game with the porte, had the same consequences as the above, and ultimately led to 4th. the formal act of the sultan constituting servia a tributary principality to the porte, in a _hatti sherif_, of the 22nd november, 1830. 5th. from this period, up to the end of 1838, was the hard struggle between milosh, seeking for absolute power, supported by the peasantry of rudnik, his native district, and the "primates," as the heads of the national party are called, seeking for a habeas-corpus act and a legislative assembly. milosh was in 1838 forcibly expelled from servia; and his son michael having been likewise set aside in 1842, and the son of kara georg selected by the sublime porte and the people of servia, against the views of russia, the long-debated "servian question" arose, which received a satisfactory solution by the return of wucics and petronievitch, the exiled supports of kara georgevitch, through the mediation of the earl of aberdeen. footnotes: [footnote 24: m, boue, in giving this anecdote, calls him "newspaper editor:" this is a mistake.] [footnote 25: it is very true that the present prince of servia does not possess anything like the power which milosh wielded; he cannot hang a man up at the first pear-tree: but it is a mistake on the part of the liberals of france and england, to suppose that the revolutions which expelled milosh and michael were democratic. there has been no turning upside down of the social pyramid; and in the absence of a hereditary aristocracy, the wealthiest and most influential persons in servia, such as ressavatz, simitch, garashanin, &c. support alexander kara georgevitch.] chapter xxxi. the prince.--the government.--the senate.--the minister for foreign affairs.--the minister of the interior.--courts of justice.--finances. kara georgevitch means son of kara georg, his father's name having been georg petrovitch, or son of peter; this manner of naming being common to all the southern slaaves, except the croats and dalmatians. this is the opposite of the arabic custom, which confers on a father the title of parent of his eldest son, as abou-selim, abou-hassan, &c. while his own name is dropped by his friends and family. the prince's household appointments are about â£20,000 sterling, and, making allowance for the difference of provisions, servants' wages, horse keep, &c. is equal to about â£50,000 sterling in england, which is not a large sum for a principality of the size of servia. the senate consists of twenty-one individuals, four of whom are ministers. the senators are not elected by the people, but are named by the prince, and form an oligarchy composed of the wealthiest and most influential persons. they hold their offices for life; they must be at least thirty-five years, and possess landed property. the presidency of the senate is an imaginary dignity; the duties of vice-president being performed by m. stojan simitch, the herculean figure i have described on my first visit to belgrade; and it is allowed that he performs his duties with great sagacity, tact, and impartiality. he is a servian of the old school, speaks servian and turkish, but no european language. the revolutions of this country have brought to power many men, like m. simitch, of good natural talents, and defective education. the rising generation has more instruction, and has entered the career of material improvements; but i doubt if the present red tape routine will produce a race having the shrewdness of their fathers. if these forms--the unavoidable accompaniments of a more advanced stage of society,--circumscribe the sphere of individual exertion, they possess, on the other hand, the advantage of rendering the recurrence of military dictatorship impossible. m. petronievitch, the present minister for foreign affairs, and director of the private chancery of the prince, is unquestionably the most remarkable public character now in servia. he passed some time in a commercial house at trieste, which gave him a knowledge of italian; and the bustle of a sea-port first enlarged his views. nine years of his life were passed at constantinople as a hostage for the servian nation, guaranteeing the non-renewal of the revolt; no slight act of devotion, when one considers that the obligations of the contracting parties reposed rather on expediency than on moral principles. here he made the acquaintance of all the leading personages at the ottoman porte, and learned colloquial turkish in perfection. petronievitch is astute by education and position, but he has a good heart and a capacious intellect, and his defects belong not to the man, but to the man's education and circumstances. although placable in his resentments, he is without the usual baser counterpart of such pliant characters, and has never shown himself deficient in moral courage. most travellers trace in his countenance a resemblance to the busts and portraits of fox. his moral character bears a miniature resemblance to that which history has ascribed to macchiavelli. in the course of a very tortuous political career, he has kept the advancement and civilization of servia steadily in view, and has always shown himself regardless of sordid gain. he is one of the very few public men in servia, in whom the christian and western love of _community_ has triumphed over the oriental allegiance to _self_, and this disinterestedness is, in spite of his defects, the secret of his popularity. the commander of the military force is m. wucics, who is also minister of the interior, a man of great personal courage; and although unacquainted with the tactics of european warfare, said to possess high capacity for the command of an irregular force. he possesses great energy of character, and is free from the taint of venality; but he is at the same time somewhat proud and vindictive. his predecessor in the ministry of the interior was m. ilia garashanin, the rising man in servia. sound practical sense, and unimpeachable integrity, without a shade of intrigue, distinguish this senator. may servia have many garashanins! the standing army is a mere skeleton. the reason of this is obvious. servia forms part of one great empire, and adjoins two others; therefore, the largest disciplined force that she might bring into the field, in the event of hostilities, could make no impression for offensive objects; while for defensive purposes, the countless riflemen, taking advantage of the difficult nature of the country, are amply sufficient. let the servians thank their stars that their army is a skeleton. let all europe rejoice that the pen is rapidly superseding the sword; that there now exists a council-board, to which strong and weak are equally amenable. may this diplomarchy ultimately compass the ends of the earth, and every war be reckoned a civil war, an arch-high-treason against confederate hemispheres! the portfolios of justice and finance are usually in the hands of men of business-habits, who mix little in politics. the courts of law have something of the promptitude of oriental justice, without its flagrant venality. the salaries of the judges are small: for instance, the president of the appeal court at belgrade has the miserable sum of â£300 sterling per annum. m. hadschitch, who framed the code of laws, has â£700 sterling per annum. the criminal code is founded on that of austria. the civil code is a localized modification of the _code napoleon_. the first translation of the latter code was almost literal, and made without reference to the manners and historical antecedents of servia: some of the blunders in it were laughable:--_hypotheque_ was translated as if it had been _apotheke_, and made out to be a _depot of drugs_! when the translator was asked for the reason of this extraordinary prominence of the drug depot subject, he accounted for it by the consummate skill attained by france in medicine and surgery! a small lawyer party is beginning in belgrade, but they are disliked by the people, who prefer short _viva voce_ procedure, and dislike documents. it is remarked, that when a man is supposed to be in the right, he wishes to carry on his own suit; when he has a bad case, he resorts to a lawyer. the ecclesiastical affairs of this department occupy a considerable portion of the minister's attention. in consequence of the wars which stephan dushan, the servian emperor, carried on against the greeks in the fourteenth century, he made the archbishop of servia independent of the patriarch of constantinople, who, in turn, excommunicated stephan and his nominee. this independence continued up to the year 1765, at which period, in consequence of the repeated encouragement given by the patriarchs of servia to revolts against the turkish authority, the nation was again subjected to the immediate spiritual jurisdiction of constantinople. wuk stephanovitch gives the following anecdote, illustrative of the abuses which existed in the selection of the superior clergy from this time, and up to the servian revolution, all the charges being sold to the highest bidder, or given to courtiers, destitute of religion, and often of common morality. in 1797, a greek priest came to orsova, complaining that he had not funds sufficient to enable him to arrive at his destination. a collection was made for him; but instead of going to the place he pretended to be bound for, he passed over to the island of new orsova, and entered, in a military capacity, the service of the local governor, and became a petty chief of irregular turkish troops. he then became a salt inspector; and the commandant wishing to get rid of him, asked what he could do for him; on which he begged to be made archbishop of belgrade! this modest request not being complied with, the turkish commandant sent him to sofia, with a recommendation to the grand vizier to appoint him to that see; but the vacancy had already been filled up by a priest of nissa, who had been interpreter to the vizier, and who no sooner seated himself, than he commenced a system of the most odious exactions. in the time of kara georg, the patriarchate of constantinople was not recognized, and the archbishop of carlovitz in hungary was looked up to as the spiritual head of the nation; but after the treaty of adrianople, the servian government, on paying a peppercorn tribute to the patriarch of constantinople, was admitted to have the exclusive direction of its ecclesiastical affairs. the archbishop's salary is 800_l_. per annum, and that of his three bishops about half as much. the finances of servia are in good condition. the income, according to a return made to me from the finance department, is in round numbers, eight hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars, and the expenditure eight hundred and thirty thousand. the greater part of the revenue being produced by the _poresa_, which is paid by all heads of families, from the time of their marriage to their sixtieth year, and in fact, includes nearly all the adult population; for, as is the case in most eastern countries, nearly every man marries early. the bachelors pay a separate tax. some of the other items in the budget are curious: under the head of "interest of a hundred thousand ducats lent by the government to the people at six per cent." we find a sum of fourteen thousand four hundred dollars. not only has servia no public debt, but she lends money. interest is high in servia; not because there is a want of capital, but because there are no means of investment. the consequence is that the immense savings of the peasantry are hoarded in the earth. a father of a family dies, or _in extremis_ is speechless, and unable to reveal the spot; thus large sums are annually lost to servia. the favourite speculation in the capital is the building of houses. the largest gipsy colonies are to be found on this part of the danube, in servia, in wallachia, and in the banat. the tax on the gipsies in servia amounts to more than six thousand dollars. they are under a separate jurisdiction, but have the choice of remaining nomade, or settling; in the latter case they are fiscally classed with the servians. some settled gipsies are peasants, but for the most part smiths. both settled and nomade gipsies, are alike remarkable for their musical talents. having fought with great bravery during the war of emancipation, they are not so despised in servia as in some other countries. for produce of the state forests, appears the very insignificant sum of one hundred and twenty-five dollars. the interior of servia being so thickly wooded, every servian is allowed to cut as much timber as he likes. the last item in the budget sounds singularly enough: two thousand three hundred and forty-one dollars are set down as the produce of sales of stray cattle, which are first delivered up to the captain of the district, who makes the seizure publicly, and then hands them over to the judge for sale, if there be no claimant within a given time. chapter xxxii. agriculture and commerce. upon the whole, it must be admitted, that the peasantry of servia have drawn a high prize in the lottery of existence. abject want and pauperism is nearly unknown. in fact, from the great abundance of excellent land, every man with ordinary industry can support his wife and family, and have a large surplus. the peasant has no landlord but the sultan, who receives a fixed tribute from the servian government, and does not interfere with the internal administration. the father of a family, after having contributed a _maximum_ tax of six dollars per annum, is sole master of the surplus; so that in fact the taxes are almost nominal, and the rent a mere peppercorn; the whole amounting on an average to about four shillings and sixpence per caput per annum. a very small proportion of the whole soil of servia is cultivated. some say only one sixth, others only one eighth; and even the present mode of cultivation scarcely differs from that which prevails in other parts of turkey. the reason is obvious: if the present production of servia became insufficient for the subsistence of the population, they have only to take in waste lands; and improved processes of agriculture will remain unheeded, until the population begins to press on the limits of the means of subsistence; a consummation not likely to be brought about for many generations to come. although situated to the south of hungary, the climate and productions are altogether northern. i never saw an olive-tree in servia, although plentiful in the corresponding latitudes of france and italy (43â°--44â° 50'); but both sorts of melons are abundant, although from want of cultivation not nearly so good as those of hungary. the same may be said of all other fruits except the grapes of semendria, which i believe are equal to any in the world. the servians seem to have in general very little taste for gardening, much less in fact than the turks, in consequence perhaps of the unsurpassed beauty and luxuriance of nature. the fruit-tree which seems to be the most common in servia is the plum, from which the ordinary brandy of the country is made. almost every village has a plantation of this tree in its vicinity. vegetables are tolerably abundant in some parts of the interior of servia, but belgrade is very badly supplied. there seems to be no kitchen gardens in the environs; at least i saw none. most of the vegetables as well as milk come from semlin. the harvest in august is the period of merriment. all servian peasants assist each other in getting in the grain as soon as it is ready, without fee or reward; the cultivator providing entertainment for his laborious guests. in the vale of the lower morava, where there is less pasture and more corn, this is not sufficient, and hired bulgarians assist. the innumerable swine which are reared in the vast forests of the interior, at no expense to the inhabitants, are the great staple of servian product and export. in districts where acorns abound, they fatten to an inconceivable size. they are first pushed swimming across the save, as a substitute for quarantine, and then driven to pesth and vienna by easy stages; latterly large quantities have been sent up the danube in boats towed by steam. another extensive trade in this part of the world is in leeches. turkey in europe, being for the most part uncultivated, is covered with ponds and marshes, where leeches are found in abundance. in consequence of the extensive use now made of these reptiles, in preference to the old practice of the lancet, the price has risen; and the european source being exhausted, turkey swarms with frenchmen engaged in this traffic. semlin and belgrade are the entrepots of this trade. they have a singular phraseology; and it is amusing to hear them talk of their "marchandises mortes." one company had established a series of relays and reservoirs, into which the leeches were deposited, refreshed, and again put in motion; as the journey for a great distance, without such refreshment, usually proves fatal. the steam navigation on the danube has been of incalculable benefit to servia; it renders the principality accessible to the rest of europe, and europe easily accessible to servia. the steam navigation of the save has likewise given a degree of animation to these lower regions, which was little dreamt of a few years ago. the save is the greatest of all the tributaries of the danube, and is uninterruptedly navigable for steamers a distance of two hundred miles. this river is the natural canal for the connexion of servia and the banat with the adriatic. it also offers to our summer tourists, on the completion of the lombard-venetian railway, an entirely new and agreeable route to the east. by railroad, from milan to venice; by steamer from thence to trieste; by land to sissek; and the rest of the way by the rapid descent of the save and the danube. by the latter route very few turnings and windings are necessary; for a straight line drawn from milan to kustendji on the black sea, the point of embarkation for constantinople, almost touches venice, trieste, belgrade, and the danube. chapter xxxiii. the foreign agents. so much for the native government. the foreign agents in belgrade are few in number. the most prominent individual during my stay there was baron lieven, a russian general, who had been sent there on a special mission by the emperor, to steer the policy of russia out of the shoals of the servian question. on calling there with mr. fonblanque, i found a tall military-looking man, between forty and forty-five years of age. he entered at once, and without mystery, into the subject of his mission, and concluded by saying that "servia owed her political existence solely to russia, which gave the latter a moral right of intervention over and above the stipulations of treaties, to which no other power could pretend." as the public is already familiar with the arguments pro and contra on this question, it is at present unnecessary to recur to them. baron lieven had in the posture of affairs at that time a difficult part to play, inasmuch as a powerful party sought to throw off the protectorate of russia. the baron, without possessing an intellect of the highest order, was a man of good sound judgment, and in his proceedings showed a great deal of frankness and military decision, qualities which attained his ends in all probability with greater success than if he had been endowed with that profound astuteness which we usually attribute to russians. this was his fifth mission into the turkish dominions; so that, although not possessing the language, he was yet well acquainted with the turkish character and eastern affairs in general. his previous mission had for its object to announce to the sultan that, in accordance with the stipulations of the treaty of the 15th of july, 1840, the military and naval forces of the emperor of russia were at the service of his highness. baron lieven was accompanied to servia by his lady, a highly talented person, who spoke english admirably; and the evenings spent in his hospitable house were among the most agreeable reminiscences of my residence at belgrade. the stationary russian consul-general was m. wastchenko, a stout middle-aged gentleman, with the look of a well-conditioned alderman. m. wastchenko had been originally in a commercial establishment at odessa; but having acquired a knowledge of the turkish language he was attached to the embassy at constantinople, and subsequently nominated russian consul at belgrade, under the consul-general for the principalities of wallachia and moldavia; but his services having been highly approved by count nesselrode, he was advanced to the rank and pay of consul-general. m. wastchenko possesses in an eminent degree what swift calls the aldermanly, but never to be over estimated quality, discretion; he was considered generally a very safe man. in fact, a sort of man who is a favourite with all chanceries; the quality of such a mind being rather to avoid complications than to excite admiration by activity in the pen or the tongue. m. wastchenko was most thoroughly acquainted with everything, and every man, in servia. he spoke the language fluently, and lived familiarly with the principal persons in belgrade. he had never travelled in europe, and, strange to say, had never been in st. petersburg. the present russian consul-general in servia is colonel danilefsky, who distinguished himself, when a mere youth, by high scientific attainments in military colleges of russia, rose rapidly to a colonelcy, and was sent out on a mission to the khan of khiva; the success of which ensured his promotion to the servian consulate-general, an important position as regards the interests of russia. from the circumstance of there being three thousand austrian subjects in belgrade, the consul-general of that power has a mass of real consular business to transact, while the functions of the other agents are solely political. france has generally an agent of good capacity in servia, in consequence of the influence that the march of affairs in the principality might have on the general destinies of turkey in europe. great britain was represented by mr. consul-general fonblanque, a gentleman whose conduct has been sharply criticized by those who suppose that the tactics of party in the east are like those in england, all fair and above-board: but let those gentlemen that sit at home at ease, experience a few of the rude tempestuous blasts which fall to the lot of individuals who speak and write truths unpalatable to those who will descend to any device to compass a political object, and they would sing another song. i now take leave of servia, wishing her prince and her people every prosperity, and entertaining the hope that she will wisely limit all her future efforts to the cultivation of the arts of peace and civilization. from belgrade i crossed to semlin, whence i proceeded by steam to vienna. chapter xxxiv. vienna in 1844[26] improvements in vienna.--palladian style--music.--theatres.--sir robert gordon.--prince metternich.--armen ball.--dancing.--strauss.--austrian policy. vienna has been more improved and embellished within the last few years than during the previous quarter of a century. the graben and the kohlmarket have been joined, and many old projecting houses have been taken down, and replaced by new tenements, with the facades put back, so as to facilitate the thoroughfare. until very lately, almost every public building and private palace in vienna was in the frenchified style of the last century, when each petty prince in germany wished to have a miniature versailles in his village capital. all the new edifices are in the palladian style; which is suitable, not only to the climate, but to the narrow streets, where greek architecture would be lost for want of space, and where the great height of the houses gives mass to this (the palladian) style, without the necessity of any considerable perspective. the circumstance of many of the architects here being italian, may probably, in some measure, account for the general adoption of this style. it is singular, that although vienna possesses in st. stephen's one of the most beautiful specimens of gothic architecture, not a single edifice in this taste of recent date is to be seen, although a revival of it is noticeable in several other parts of germany. music is one of the necessaries of existence in vienna, and the internal consumption is apparently as great as ever: there is now-a-days no mozart or haydn to supply imperishable fabrics for the markets of the world; but the orchestras are as good as ever. the sinfonia-eroica of beethoven catching my eye in a programme, i failed not to renew my homage to this prince of sweet and glorious sounds, and was loyally indignant on hearing a fellow-countryman say, that, though rich in harmony, he was poor in melody. no; beethoven's wealth is boundless; his riches embarrass him; he is the sultan of melody: while others dally with their beauties to satiety, he wanders from grace to grace, scarce pausing to enjoy. is it possible to hear his symphonies without recognizing in them the germs of innumerable modern melodies, the precious metal which others beat out, wherewith to plate their baser compositions,--exhaustless materials for the use of his successors, like those noble temples which antiquity has raised in the east, to become, in the sequel, the quarries from which whole cities of lowlier dwellings are constructed? at the karnthner thor i heard the huguenots admirably performed. decorations excepted, i really thought it better done than at the academie royale. meyerbeer's brilliant and original conceptions, in turning the chorus into an oral orchestra, are better realized. a french vaudeville company performed on the alternate nights. carl, the rich jew manager of the wieden, and proprietor of the leopold-stadt theatre, is adding largely to his fortune, thanks to the rich and racy drolleries of nestroz and schulz, who are the matthews and liston of vienna. the former of these excellent actors is certainly the most successful farce-writer in germany. without any of raimund's sentimental-humorous dialogue, he has a far happier eye for character, and only the untranslatable dialect of vienna has preserved him from foreign play-wrights. sir robert gordon, her majesty's ambassador, whose unbounded and truly sumptuous hospitalities are worthy of his high position, did me the honour to take me to one of princess metternich's receptions, in the apartments of the chancery of state, one side of which is devoted to business, the other to the private residence of the minister. after passing through a vestibule on the first floor, paved with marble, we entered a well-lighted saloon of palatial altitude, at the further end of which sat the youthful and fascinating princess, in conversation with m. bailli de tatischeff ex-ambassador of russia. there, almost blind and bent double with the weight of eighty years, sat the whilom profoundly sagacious diplomatist, whose accomplished manners and quick perception of character have procured him a european reputation. he quitted public business some years ago, but even in retirement vienna had its attractions for him. there is an unaccountable fascination in a residence in this capital; those who live long in it become _ipsis vindobonensibus vindobonensiores_. prince metternich, who was busy when we entered with a group, examining some views of venice, received me with that quaker-like simplicity which forms the last polish of the perfect gentleman and man of the world; "_les extremes se touchent_," in manners as in literature: but for the riband of the golden fleece, which crossed his breast, there was nothing to remind me that i was conversing with the statesman, who, after the armistice of plesswitz, held the destinies of all europe in his hands. after some conversation, the prince asked me to call upon him on a certain forenoon. most of the diplomatic corps were present, one of whom was the amiable and well-known marshal saldanha, who, a few years ago, played so prominent a part in the affairs of portugal. the usual resources of whist and the tea-buffet changed the conversational circle, and at midnight there was a general movement to the kleine redouten saal, where the armen ball had attracted so crowded an assemblage, that more than one archduchess had her share of elbowing. strauss was in all his glory; the long-drawn impassioned breathings of lanner having ceased for ever, the dulcet hilarity of his rival now reigns supreme; and his music, when directed by himself, still abounds in those exquisite little touches, that inspire _hope_ like the breath of a may morning. strange to say, the intoxicating waltz is gone out of vogue with the humbler classes of vienna,--its natal soil. quadrilles, mazurkas, and other exotics, are now danced by every "stubenmad'l" in lerchenfeld, to the exclusion of the national dance. on the third day after this, at the appointed hour, i waited upon prince metternich. in the outer antechamber an elderly well-conditioned red-faced usher, in loosely made clothes of fine black cloth, rose from a table, and on my announcing myself, said, "if you will go into that apartment, and take a seat, his excellency will be disengaged in a short time." i now entered a large apartment, looking out on the little garden of the bastion: an officer, in a fresh new white austrian uniform, stood motionless and pensive at one of the windows, waiting his turn with a most formidable roll of papers. the other individual in the room was a hungarian, who moved about, sat down, and rose up, with the most restless impatience, twirled his mustachios, and kept up a most lively conversation with a caged parrot which stood on the table. two large pictures, hanging from the wall opposite the windows, were a full length portrait of the emperor in his robes, the other a picture of st. john nepomuck, the patron saint of bohemia, holding an olive branch in his hand. the apartment, although large, was very simply furnished, but admirably decorated in subdued colours, in the italian manner. a great improvement has lately taken place in internal decoration in vienna, which corresponds with that of external architecture. a few years ago, most large apartments were fitted up in the style of louis xv., which was worthy of the degenerate nobles and crapulous financiers for whom it was invented, and was, in fact, a sort of byzantine of the boudoir, which succeeded the nobler and simpler manner of the age of louis xiv., and tormenting every straight line into meretricious curves, ended with over-loading caricature itself. i found prince metternich in his cabinet, surrounded with book-cases, filled mostly with works on history, statistics, and geography, and i hope i am not committing any indiscretion in saying that his conversation savoured more of the abstractions of history and political philosophy than that of any other practical statesman i had seen. i do not think that i am passing a dubious compliment, since m. guizot, the most eminently practical of the statesmen of france, is at the same time the man who has most successfully illustrated the effects of modifications of political institutions on the main current of human happiness. it must be admitted that prince metternich has a profound acquaintance with the minutest sympathies and antipathies of all the european races; and this is the quality most needed in the direction of an empire which comprises not a nation, but a congregation of nations; not cohering through sympathy with each other, but kept together by the arts of statesmanship, and the bond of loyalty to the reigning house. the ethnographical map of europe is as clear in his mind's eye as the boot of italy, the hand of the morea, and the shield of the spanish peninsula in those of a physical geographer. it is not affirming too much to say that in many difficult questions in which the _mezzo termine_ proposed by austria has been acceded to by the other powers, the solution has been due as much to the sagacity of the individual, as to the less ambitious policy which generally characterizes austria. the last time i saw this distinguished individual was in the month of november following, on my way to england, i venture to give a scrap of the conversation. _mett_. "the idea of charlemagne was the formation of a vast state, comprising heterogeneous nations united under one head; but with all his genius he was unequal to the task of its accomplishment. napoleon entertained the same plan with his confederation of the rhine; but all such systems are ephemeral when power is centralized, and the minor states are looked upon as instruments, and not as principals. austria is the only empire on record that has succeeded under those circumstances. the cabinet of austria, when it seeks the solution of any internal question, invariably reverses the positions, and hypothetically puts itself in the position of the provincial interest under consideration. that is the secret of the prosperity of austria." _author_. "i certainly have been often struck with the historical fact, that 1830 produced revolutions then and subsequently in france, belgium, poland, spain, and innumerable smaller states; while in austria, with all its reputed combustible elements, not a single town or village revolted." _mett_. "that tangible fact speaks for itself." footnotes: [footnote 26: this chapter was written in vienna in the beginning of 1844; but i did not wish to break the current of my observations on servia by the record of my intervening journey to england.] chapter xxxv. concluding observations on austria and her prospects. the heterogeneousness of the inhabitants of london and paris is from the influx of foreigners; but the odd mixture of german, italian, slaavic, and i know not how many other races in vienna, is almost all generated within the limits of the monarchy. masses, rubbing against each other, get their asperities smoothed in the contact; but the characteristics of various nationalities remain in vienna in considerable strength, and do not seem likely soon to disappear by any process of attrition. there goes the german--honest, good-natured, and laborious; the hungarian--proud, insolent, lazy, hospitable, generous, and sincere; and the plausible slaav--his eye, twinkling with the prospect of seizing, by a knowledge of human nature, what others attain by slower means. how curious again, is the meeting of nations that labour and enjoy! in paris, the germans and the english are more numerous than any other foreigners. the former toil, drudge, save their littles to make a meikle. the latter, whatever they may be at home, are, in paris, generally loungers and consumers of the fruits of the earth. the hungarian's errand in vienna is to spend money: the italian's to make it. the hungarian, a.b., is one of the squirearchy of his country, whose name is legion, or a military man, whiling away his furlough amid the excitements of a gay capital. the italian, c.d., is a painter, a sculptor, a musician, or an employe; and there is scarcely to be found an idle man among the twenty thousand of his fellow-countrymen, who inhabit the metropolis. the hungarian nobility, of the higher class, are, in appearance and habits, completely identified with their german brethren; but it is in the middle nobility that we recognize the swarthy complexion, the haughty air and features, more or less of a mongolian cast. the hungarians and native germans are mutually proud of each other, and mutually dislike each other. i never knew a hungarian who was not in his heart pleased with the idea, that the king of hungary was also an emperor, whose lands, broad and wide, occupied so large a space in the map of europe; and i never knew an austrian proper, who was not proud of hungary and the hungarians, in spite of all their defects. the hungarian of the above description herds with his fellow-countrymen, and preserves, to the end of his stay, his character of foreigner; visits assiduously places of public resort, preferring the theatre and ball-room to the museum or picture-gallery. of all men living in vienna, the bohemians carry off the palm for acuteness and ingenuity. the relation of bohemia to the austrian empire has some resemblance to that of scotland to the colonies of britain, in the supply of mariners to the vessel of state. the population of bohemia is a ninth part of that of the whole empire; but i dare say that a fourth of the bureaucracy of austria is bohemian. to account for this, we must take into consideration the great number of men of sharp intellect, good education, and scanty fortune, that annually leave that country. the population of scotland is about a ninth of that of the united kingdom. the scot is well educated. he has less loose cash than his brother john bull, and consequently prefers the sweets of office to the costly incense of the hustings and the senate. how few, comparatively speaking, of those who have made themselves illustrious in the imperial parliament, from the union to our own time, came from the north of the tweed; but how the malcolms, the elphinstones, the munros, and the burns, crowd the records of indian statesmanship! the power that controls the political tendencies of austria is that of the _mass_ of the bureaucracy; consequently, looking at the proportion of bohemian to other employes in the departments of public service, the influence exercised by this singularly sagacious people, over the destinies of the monarchy, may be duly appreciated. count kollowrath, the minister of the interior, and baron kubeck, the minister of finance, are both bohemians, and thus, next to the chancellor of state, occupy the most important offices in the empire. the bohemians of the middling and poorer classes, have certainly less sincerity and straight-forwardness than their neighbours. an anecdote is related illustrative of the slyness of the bohemians, compared with the simple honesty of the german, and the candid unscrupulousness of the hungarian: "during the late war, three soldiers, of each of these three nations, met in the parlour of a french inn, over the chimney-piece of which hung a watch. when they had gone, the german said, 'that is a good watch; i wish i had bought it.' 'i am sorry i did not take it,' said the hungarian. 'i have it in my pocket,' said the bohemian." the rising man in the empire is the bohemian baron kubeck, who is thoroughly acquainted with every detail in the economical condition of austria. the great object of this able financier is to cut down the expenses of the empire. no doubt that it would be unwise for austria, an inland state, to reduce her military expenses; but the _viel-schreiberei_ might be diminished, and the pruning-hook might safety be applied to the bureaucracy; but a powerful under-current places this region beyond the power of baron kubeck. he is also a free-trader; but here again he meets with a powerful opposition: no sooner does he propose a modification of the tariff, than the saloons of the archdukes are filled with manufacturers and monopolists, who draw such a terrific picture of the ruin which they pretend is to overwhelm them, that the government, true to its tradition of never doing any thing unpopular, of always avoiding collision with public opinion, and of protecting vested interests, even to the detriment of the real interest of the public, draws back; and the old jog-trot is maintained. the mass of the aristocracy continues as usual without the slightest political influence, or the slightest taste for state affairs. the count or prince of thirty or forty thousand a year, is as contented with his chamberlain's key embroidered on his coat-skirt, as if he controlled the avenues to real power; but the silent operation of an important change is visible in all the departments of the internal government of austria. the national reforms of the emperor joseph were too abrupt and sweeping to be salutary. by good luck the reaction which they produced being co-incident with the first french revolution, the firebrands which that great explosion scattered over all monarchical europe, fell innocuous in austria. the second french revolution rather retarded than accelerated useful reforms. now that the fear of democracy recedes, an inclination for salutary changes shows itself everywhere. a desire for incorporations becomes stronger, and the government shows none of its quondam anxiety about public companies and institutions. the censorship has been greatly relaxed, and many liberal newspapers and periodicals, formerly excluded, are now frequently admitted. any one who knew austria some years ago, would be surprised to see the "examiner," and "constitutionnel" lying on the tables of the clubs. a desire for the revival of the provincial estates (landstande), is entertained by many influential persons. these provincial parliaments existed up to the time of the emperor joseph, who, with his rage for novelty, and his desire for despotic and centralized power, abolished them. the section of the aristocracy desirous for this revival is certainly small, but intelligent, and impatient for a sphere of activity. they have neither radical nor democratic principles; they admit that austria, from the heterogeneous nature of her population, is not adapted for constitutional government; but maintain that the revival of municipal institutions is quite compatible with the present elements of the monarchy, and that the difficulties presented by the antagonist nationalities are best solved by allowing a development of provincial public life, restricted to the control of local affairs, and leaving the central government quite unfettered in its general foreign and domestic policy. st. marc girardin remarks, with no less piquancy of language than accuracy of observation, that "no country is judged with less favour than austria; and none troubles herself less about misrepresentation. austria carries her repugnance to publicity so far as even to dislike eulogium. praise often offends her as much as blame; for he that applauds to-day may condemn to-morrow; to set one's self up for praise, is to set one's self up for discussion. austria will have none of it, for her political worship is the religion of silence, and her worship of _that_ goes almost to excess. her schools are worthy of the highest admiration; we hear nothing about them. she is, after england, the first country in europe for railways; and we hear nothing of them, except by a stray paragraph in the augsburg gazette." the national railroad scheme of austria is certainly the most splendid effort of the _tout pour le peuple--rien par le peuple_ system that has been hitherto seen; the scheme is the first of its class: but its class is not the first, not the best in the abstract, but the best in an absolute country, where the spirit of association is scarcely in embryo. from vienna to cracow is now but a step. prague and dresden will shake hands with vienna next year. if we look southwards, line upon line interpose themselves between vienna and the adriatic, but the great sommering has been pierced. the line to trieste is open beyond gratz, the styrian capital. the lombard-venetian line proceeds rapidly, and is to be joined to that of trieste. in 1847, the traveller may go, without fail, from milan to stettin on the baltic. but the most interesting line for us is that of gallicia, in connexion with that of silesia. if prolonged from czernowitz to galatz, along the dead flat of moldavia, the black sea and the german ocean will be joined; _samsoun and the tigris will thus be, in all probability, at no distant day, on the high road to our indian empire_. but to return to austria; this spectacle of rapid material improvement, without popular commotion, and without the trumpets and alarm-bells of praise and blame, is satisfactory: but when we look to the reverse of the picture, and see the cumbrous debt, the frequent deficits, and the endless borrowing, we think the time has come for great financial reforms,--as schiller hath it:- "warum denn nicht mit einem grossen schritte anfangen, da sie mit einem grossen schritte doch enden mussen?" the end. mr. paton's work on syria, post 8vo, price 10_s_. 6_d_. the modern syrians; or, native society in damascus, aleppo, and the mountains of the druses. "lebanon and its inhabitants, particularly the druses, damascus, and aleppo, are his leading subjects. his statements, under the first of those heads, form by far the most valuable portion of the work, affording, as it does, information not elsewhere to be found respecting the social condition, the politics, and the state of religion in a highly interesting region, our knowledge of which has hitherto been of the slightest description. next to this, in interest, is the account of aleppo, which has been less visited by english travellers than damascus; but even at damascus, the information of this writer has considerable novelty, and embraces many points of interest arising from his leisurely sojourn, from his mixing more than other travellers with the native population, and from his ability to converse with them in their own language. hence we have pictures more distinct in their outlines, facts more positive, and information more real than the passing traveller, ignorant of the local language, can be reasonably expected to exhibit ... makes larger additions to the common stock of information concerning syria, than any work which could easily be named since 'burckhardt's travels in syria' appeared."--_eclectic review_. "remarkably clever and entertaining."--_times_. "in many of the conversations and reports in this volume, there seems to us a _reality_, which european writing and discourse often want."--_spectator_. "i willingly testify to the fact of your having enjoyed facilities over all our modern travellers, for accurately describing the manners, customs, and statistics of syria."--_letter of mr. consul-general barker_. for a detailed analysis, see _athenaeum_, 24th aug. 1844. london: longman & co., paternoster-row. transcriber's notes: punctuation and hyphenation have been normalised. variable, archaic or unusual spelling has been retained. a list of the few corrections made can found at the end of the book. italics indicated by _underscores_. [illustration: greece, turkey, _part of_ russia & poland.] incidents of travel in greece, turkey, russia, and poland. by the author of "incidents of travel in egypt, arabia petræa, and the holy land." with a map and engravings. in two volumes. vol. i. seventh edition. new york: harper & brothers, publishers. 329 & 331 pearl street, franklin square. 1853. entered, according to act of congress, in the year 1838, by harper & brothers, in the clerk's office of the southern district of new york. preface to the fifth edition. the fourth edition of this work was published during the author's absence from the city. his publishers, in a preface in his behalf, returned his acknowledgments to the public, and he can but respond to the acknowledgments there made. he has made some alterations in the page relating to the american phil-hellenists; and for the rest, he concludes as in the preface to his first edition. the author has been induced by his publishers to put forth his "incidents of travel in greece, turkey, russia, and poland." in point of time they precede his tour in egypt, arabia petræa, and the holy land. the countries which form the subject of the following pages perhaps do not, in themselves, possess the same interest with those in his first work; but the author has reason to believe that part of his route, particularly from the black sea to the baltic, through the interior of russia, and from st. petersburgh through the interior of poland to warsaw and cracow, is comparatively new to most of his countrymen. as in his first work, his object has been to present a picture of the every-day scenes which occur to the traveller in the countries referred to, rather than any detailed description of the countries themselves. _new york, november, 1838._ contents of the first volume chapter i. page a hurricane.--an adventure.--missilonghi.--siege of missilonghi.--byron.--marco bozzaris.--visit to the widow, daughters, and brother of bozzaris.--halleck's "marco bozzaris." 13 chapter ii. choice of a servant.--a turnout.--an evening chat.--scenery of the road.--lepanto.--a projected visit.--change of purpose.--padras.--vostitza.--variety and magnificence of scenery. 28 chapter iii. quarrel with the landlord.--ægina.--sicyon.--corinth.--a distinguished reception.--desolation of corinth.--the acropolis.--view from the acropolis.--lechæum and cenchreæ.--kaka scala.--arrival at athens. 46 chapter iv. american missionary school.--visit to the school.--mr. hill and the male department.--mrs. hill and the female department.--maid of athens.--letter from mr. hill.--revival of athena.--citizens of the world. 61 chapter v. ruins of athens.--hill of mars.--temple of the winds.--lantern of demosthenes.--arch of adrian.--temple of jupiter olympus.--temple of theseus.--the acropolis.--the parthenon.--pentelican mountain.--mount hymettus.--the piræus.--greek fleas.--napoli. 73 chapter vi. argos.--parting and farewell.--tomb of agamemnon.--mycenæ.--gate of the lions.--a misfortune.--meeting in the mountains.--a landlord's troubles.--a midnight quarrel.--one good turn deserves another.--gratitude of a greek family.--megara.--the soldiers' revel. 99 chapter vii. a dreary funeral.--marathon.--mount pentelicus.--a mystery.--woes of a lover.--reveries of glory.--scio's rocky isle.--a blood-stained page of history.--a greek prelate.--desolation.--the exile's return. 118 chapter viii. a noble grecian lady.--beauty of scio.--an original.--foggi.--a turkish coffee-house.--mussulman at prayers.--easter sunday.--a greek priest.--a tartar guide.--turkish ladies.--camel scenes.--sight of a harem.--disappointed hopes.--a rare concert.--arrival at smyrna. 149 chapter ix. first sight of smyrna.--unveiled women.--ruins of ephesus.--ruin, all ruin.--temple of diana.--encounter with a wolf.--love at first sight.--gatherings on the road. 173 chapter x. position of smyrna.--consular privileges.--the case of the lover.--end of the love affair.--the missionary's wife.--the casino.--only a greek row.--rambles in smyrna.--the armenians.--domestic enjoyments. 188 chapter xi. an american original.--moral changes in turkey.--wonders of steam navigation.--the march of mind.--classic localities.--sestos and abydos.--seeds of pestilence. 203 chapter xii. mr. churchill.--commodore porter.--castle of the seven towers.--the sultan's naval architect.--launch of the great ship.--sultan mahmoud.--jubilate.--a national grievance.--visit to a mosque.--the burial-grounds. 218 chapter xiii. visit to the slave-market.--horrors of slavery.--departure from stamboul.--the stormy euxine.--odessa.--the lazaretto.--russian civility.--returning good for evil. 236 chapter xiv. the guardiano.--one too many.--an excess of kindness.--the last day of quarantine.--mr. baguet.--rise of odessa.--city-making.--count woronzow.--a gentleman farmer.--an american russian. 258 incidents of travel in greece, turkey, russia, and poland. chapter i. a hurricane.--an adventure.--missilonghi.--siege of missilonghi.--byron.--marco bozzaris.--visit to the widow, daughters, and brother of bozzaris. on the evening of the ---february, 1835, by a bright starlight, after a short ramble among the ionian islands, i sailed from zante in a beautiful cutter of about forty tons for padras. my companions were doctor w., an old and valued friend from new-york, who was going to greece merely to visit the episcopal missionary school at athens, and a young scotchman, who had travelled with me through italy, and was going farther, like myself, he knew not exactly why. there was hardly a breath of air when we left the harbour, but a breath was enough to fill our little sail. the wind, though of the gentlest, was fair; and as we crawled from under the lee of the island, in a short time it became a fine sailing breeze. we sat on the deck till a late hour, and turned in with every prospect of being at padras in the morning. before daylight, however, the wind chopped about, and set in dead ahead, and when i went on deck in the morning it was blowing a hurricane. we had passed the point of padras; the wind was driving down the gulf of corinth as if old æolus had determined on thwarting our purpose; and our little cutter, dancing like a gull upon the angry waters, was driven into the harbour of missilonghi. the town was full in sight, but at such a distance, and the waves were running so high, that we could not reach it with our small boat. a long flat extends several miles into the sea, making the harbour completely inaccessible except to small greek caiques built expressly for such navigation. we remained on board all day; and the next morning, the gale still continuing, made signals to a fishing boat to come off and take us ashore. in a short time she came alongside; we bade farewell to our captain--an italian and a noble fellow, cradled, and, as he said, born to die on the adriatic--and in a few minutes struck the soil of fallen but immortal greece. our manner of striking it, however, was not such as to call forth any of the warm emotions struggling in the breast of the scholar, for we were literally stuck in the mud. we were yet four or five miles from the shore, and the water was so low that the fishing-boat, with the additional weight of four men and luggage, could not swim clear. our boatmen were two long, sinewy greeks, with the red tarbouch, embroidered jacket, sash, and large trousers, and with their long poles set us through the water with prodigious force; but, as soon as the boat struck, they jumped out, and, putting their brawny shoulders under her sides, heaved her through into better water, and then resumed their poles. in this way they propelled her two or three miles, working alternately with their poles and shoulders, until they got her into a channel, when they hoisted the sail, laid directly for the harbour, and drove upon the beach with canvass all flying. during the late greek revolution, missilonghi was the great debarking-place of european adventurers; and, probably, among all the desperadoes who ever landed there, none were more destitute and in better condition to "go ahead" than i; for i had all that i was worth on my back. at one of the ionian islands i had lost my carpet-bag, containing my notebook and every article of wearing apparel except the suit in which i stood. every condition, however, has its advantages; mine put me above porters and custom-house officers; and while my companions were busy with these plagues of travellers, i paced with great satisfaction the shore of greece, though i am obliged to confess that this satisfaction was for reasons utterly disconnected with any recollections of her ancient glories. business before pleasure: one of our first inquiries was for a breakfast. perhaps, if we had seen a monument, or solitary column, or ruin of any kind, it would have inspired us to better things; but there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could recall an image of the past. besides, we did not expect to land at missilonghi, and were not bound to be inspired at a place into which we were thrown by accident; and, more than all, a drizzling rain was penetrating to our very bones; we were wet and cold, and what can men do in the way of sentiment when their teeth are chattering? the town stands upon a flat, marshy plain, which extends several miles along the shore. the whole was a mass of new-made ruins--of houses demolished and black with smoke--the tokens of savage and desolating war. in front, and running directly along the shore, was a long street of miserable one-story shantees, run up since the destruction of the old town, and so near the shore that sometimes it is washed by the sea, and at the time of our landing it was wet and muddy from the rain. it was a cheerless place, and reminded me of communipaw in bad weather. it had no connexion with the ancient glory of greece, no name or place on her historic page, and no hotel where we could get a breakfast; but one of the officers of the customs conducted us to a shantee filled with bavarian soldiers drinking. there was a sort of second story, accessible only by a ladder; and one end of this was partitioned off with boards, but had neither bench, table, nor any other article of housekeeping. we had been on and almost _in_ the water since daylight, exposed to a keen wind and drizzling rain, and now, at eleven o'clock, could probably have eaten several chickens apiece; but nothing came amiss, and, as we could not get chickens, we took eggs, which, for lack of any vessel to boil them in, were roasted. we placed a huge loaf of bread on the middle of the floor, and seated ourselves around it, spreading out so as to keep the eggs from rolling away, and each hewing off bread for himself. fortunately, the greeks have learned from their quondam turkish masters the art of making coffee, and a cup of this eastern cordial kept our dry bread from choking us. when we came out again the aspect of matters was more cheerful; the long street was swarming with greeks, many of them armed with pistols and yataghan, but miserably poor in appearance, and in such numbers that not half of them could find the shelter of a roof at night. we were accosted by one dressed in a hat and frockcoat, and who, in occasional visits to corfu and trieste, had picked up some italian and french, and a suit of european clothes, and was rather looked up to by his untravelled countrymen. as a man of the world, who had received civilities abroad, he seemed to consider it incumbent upon him to reciprocate at home, and, with the tacit consent of all around, he undertook to do the honours of missilonghi. if, as a greek, he had any national pride about him, he was imposing upon himself a severe task; for all that he could do was to conduct us among ruins, and, as he went along, tell us the story of the bloody siege which had reduced the place to its present woful state. for more than a year, under unparalleled hardships, its brave garrison resisted the combined strength of the turkish and egyptian armies, and, when all hope was gone, resolved to cut their way through the enemy or die in the attempt. many of the aged and sick, the wounded and the women, refused to join in the sortie, and preferred to shut themselves up in an old mill, with the desperate purpose of resisting until they should bring around them a large crowd of turks, when they would blow all up together. an old invalid soldier seated himself in a mine under the bastion bozzaris (the ruins of which we saw), the mine being charged with thirty kegs of gunpowder; the last sacrament was administered by the bishop and priests to the whole population and, at a signal, the besieged made their desperate sortie. one body dashed through the turkish ranks, and, with many women and children, gained the mountains; but the rest were driven back. many of the women ran to the sea and plunged in with their children; husbands stabbed their wives with their own hands to save them from the turks, and the old soldier under the bastion set fire to the train, and the remnant of the heroic garrison buried themselves under the ruins of missilonghi. among them were thirteen foreigners, of whom only one escaped. one of the most distinguished was meyer, a young swiss, who entered as a volunteer at the beginning of the revolution, became attached to a beautiful missilonghiote girl, married her, and, when the final sortie was made, his wife being sick, he remained with her, and was blown up with the others. a letter written a few days before his death, and brought away by one who escaped in the sortie, records the condition of the garrison. "a wound which i have received in my shoulder, while i am in daily expectation of one which will be my passport to eternity, has prevented me till now from bidding you a last adieu. we are reduced to feed upon the most disgusting animals. we are suffering horribly with hunger and thirst. sickness adds much to the calamities which overwhelm us. seventeen hundred and forty of our brothers are dead; more than a hundred thousand bombs and balls thrown by the enemy have destroyed our bastions and our homes. we have been terribly distressed by the cold, for we have suffered great want of food. notwithstanding so many privations, it is a great and noble spectacle to behold the ardour and devotedness of the garrison. a few days more, and these brave men will be angelic spirits, who will accuse before god the indifference of christendom. in the name of all our brave men, among whom are notho bozzaris, *** i announce to you the resolution sworn to before heaven, to defend, foot by foot, the land of missilonghi, and to bury ourselves, without listening to any capitulation, under the ruins of this city. we are drawing near our final hour. history will render us justice. i am proud to think that the blood of a swiss, of a child of william tell, is about to mingle with that of the heroes of greece." but missilonghi is a subject of still greater interest than this, for the reader will remember it as the place where byron died. almost the first questions i asked were about the poet, and it added to the dreary interest which the place inspired, to listen to the manner in which the greeks spoke of him. it might be thought that here, on the spot where he breathed his last, malignity would have held her accursed tongue; but it was not so. he had committed the fault, unpardonable in the eyes of political opponents, of attaching himself to one of the great parties that then divided greece; and though he had given her all that man could give, in his own dying words, "his time, his means, his health, and, lastly, his life," the greeks spoke of him with all the rancour and bitterness of party spirit. even death had not won oblivion for his political offences; and i heard those who saw him die in her cause affirm that byron was no friend to greece. his body, the reader will remember, was transported to england and interred in the family sepulchre. the church where it lay in state is a heap of ruins, and there is no stone or monument recording his death, but, wishing to see some memorial connected with his residence here, we followed our guide to the house in which he died. it was a large square building of stone, one of the walls still standing, black with smoke, the rest a confused and shapeless mass of ruins. after his death it was converted into a hospital and magazine; and, when the turks entered the city, they set fire to the powder; the sick and dying were blown into the air, and we saw the ruins lying as they fell after the explosion. it was a melancholy spectacle, but it seemed to have a sort of moral fitness with the life and fortunes of the poet. it was as if the same wild destiny, the same wreck of hopes and fortunes that attended him through life, were hovering over his grave. living and dead, his actions and his character have been the subject of obloquy and reproach, perhaps justly; but it would have softened the heart of his bitterest enemy to see the place in which he died. it was in this house that, on his last birthday, he came from his bedroom and produced to his friends the last notes of his dying muse, breathing a spirit of sad foreboding and melancholy recollections; of devotion to the noble cause in which he had embarked, and a prophetic consciousness of his approaching end. "my days are in the yellow leaf, the flowers and fruits of love are gone; the worm, the canker, and the grief are mine alone. * * * * * "if thou regret'st thy youth, _why live?_ the land of honourable death is here: up to the field, and give away thy breath! "seek out--less often sought than found- a soldier's grave, for thee the best; then look around, and choose thy ground, and take thy rest." moving on beyond the range of ruined houses, though still within the line of crumbling walls, we came to a spot perhaps as interesting as any that greece in her best days could show. it was the tomb of marco bozzaris! no monumental marble emblazoned his deeds and fame; a few round stones piled over his head, which, but for our guide, we should have passed without noticing, were all that marked his grave. i would not disturb a proper reverence for the past; time covers with its dim and twilight glories both distant scenes and the men who acted in them, but, to my mind, miltiades was not more of a hero at marathon or leonidas at thermopylæ than marco bozzaris at missilonghi. when they went out against the hosts of persia, athens and sparta were great and free, and they had the prospect of _glory_ and the praise of men, to the greeks always dearer than life. but when the suliote chief drew his sword, his country lay bleeding at the feet of a giant, and all europe condemned the greek revolution as foolhardy and desperate. for two months, with but a few hundred men, protected only by a ditch and slight parapet of earth, he defended the town where his body now rests against the whole egyptian army. in stormy weather, living upon bad and unwholesome bread, with no covering but his cloak, he passed his days and nights in constant vigil; in every assault his sword cut down the foremost assailant, and his voice, rising above the din of battle, struck terror into the hearts of the enemy. in the struggle which ended with his life, with two thousand men he proposed to attack the whole army of mustapha pacha, and called upon all who were willing to die for their country to stand forward. the whole band advanced to a man. unwilling to sacrifice so many brave men in a death-struggle, he chose three hundred, the sacred number of the spartan band, his tried and trusty suliotes. at midnight he placed himself at their head, directing that not a shot should be fired till he sounded his bugle; and his last command was, "if you lose sight of me, seek me in the pacha's tent." in the moment of victory he ordered the pacha to be seized, and received a ball in the loins; his voice still rose above the din of battle, cheering his men until he was struck by another ball in the head, and borne dead from the field of his glory. not far from the grave of bozzaris was a pyramid of sculls, of men who had fallen in the last attack upon the city, piled up near the blackened and battered wall which they had died in defending. in my after wanderings i learned to look more carelessly upon these things; and, perhaps, noticing everywhere the light estimation put upon human life in the east, learned to think more lightly of it myself; but, then, it was melancholy to see bleaching in the sun, under the eyes of their countrymen, the unburied bones of men who, but a little while ago, stood with swords in their hands, and animated by the noble resolution to free their country or die in the attempt. our guide told us that they had all been collected in that place with a view to sepulture; and that king otho, as soon as he became of age and took the government in his own hands, intended to erect a monument over them. in the mean time, they are at the mercy of every passing traveller; and the only remark that our guide made was a comment upon the force and unerring precision of the blow of the turkish sabre, almost every scull being laid open on the side nearly down to the ear. but the most interesting part of our day at missilonghi was to come. returning from a ramble round the walls, we noticed a large square house, which, our guide told us, was the residence of constantine, the brother of marco bozzaris. we were all interested in this intelligence, and our interest was in no small degree increased when he added that the widow and two of the children of the suliote chief were living with his brother. the house was surrounded by a high stone wall, a large gate stood most invitingly wide open, and we turned toward it in the hope of catching a glimpse of the inhabitants; but, before we reached the gate, our interest had increased to such a point that, after consulting with our guide, we requested him to say that, if it would not be considered an intrusion, three travellers, two of them americans, would feel honoured in being permitted to pay their respects to the widow and children of marco bozzaris. we were invited in, and shown into a large room on the right, where three greeks were sitting cross-legged on a divan, smoking the long turkish chibouk. soon after the brother entered, a man about fifty, of middling height, spare built, and wearing a bavarian uniform, as holding a colonel's commission in the service of king otho. in the dress of the dashing suliote he would have better looked the brother of marco bozzaris, and i might then more easily have recognised the daring warrior who, on the field of battle, in a moment of extremity, was deemed, by universal acclamation, worthy of succeeding the fallen hero. now the straight military frockcoat, buttoned tight across the breast, the stock, tight pantaloons, boots, and straps, seemed to repress the free energies of the mountain warrior; and i could not but think how awkward it must be for one who had spent all his life in a dress which hardly touched him, at fifty to put on a stock, and straps to his boots. our guide introduced us, with an apology for our intrusion. the colonel received us with great kindness, thanked us for the honour done his brother's widow, and, requesting us to be seated, ordered coffee and pipes. and here, on the very first day of our arrival in greece, and from a source which made us proud, we had the first evidence of what afterward met me at every step, the warm feeling existing in greece toward america; for almost the first thing that the brother of marco bozzaris said was to express his gratitude as a greek for the services rendered his country by our own; and, after referring to the provisions sent out for his famishing countrymen, his eyes sparkled and his cheek flushed as he told us that, when the greek revolutionary flag first sailed into the port of napoli di romania, among hundreds of vessels of all nations, an american captain was the first to recognise and salute it. in a few moments the widow of marco bozzaris entered. i have often been disappointed in my preconceived notions of personal appearance, but it was not so with the lady who now stood before me; she looked the widow of a hero; as one worthy of her grecian mothers, who gave their hair for bowstrings, their girdle for a sword-belt, and, while their heartstrings were cracking, sent their young lovers from their arms to fight and perish for their country. perhaps it was she that led marco bozzaris into the path of immortality; that roused him from the wild guerilla warfare in which he had passed his early life, and fired him with the high and holy ambition of freeing his country. of one thing i am certain, no man could look in her face without finding his wavering purposes fixed, without treading more firmly in the path of high and honourable enterprise. she was under forty, tall and stately in person and habited in deep black, fit emblem of her widowed condition, with a white handkerchief laid flat over her head, giving the madonna cast to her dark eyes and marble complexion. we all rose as she entered the room; and though living secluded, and seldom seeing the face of a stranger, she received our compliments and returned them with far less embarrassment than we both felt and exhibited. but our embarrassment, at least i speak for myself, was induced by an unexpected circumstance. much as i was interested in her appearance, i was not insensible to the fact that she was accompanied by two young and beautiful girls, who were introduced to us as her daughters. this somewhat bewildered me. while waiting for their appearance, and talking with constantine bozzaris, i had in some way conceived the idea that the daughters were mere children, and had fully made up my mind to take them both on my knee and kiss them; but the appearance of the stately mother recalled me to the grave of bozzaris; and the daughters would probably have thought that i was taking liberties upon so short an acquaintance if i had followed up my benevolent purpose in regard to them; so that, with the long pipe in my hand, which, at that time, i did not know how to manage well, i cannot flatter myself that i exhibited any of the benefit of continental travel. the elder was about sixteen, and even in the opinion of my friend doctor w., a cool judge in these matters, a beautiful girl, possessing in its fullest extent all the elements of grecian beauty: a dark, clear complexion, dark hair, set off by a little red cap embroidered with gold thread, and a long blue tassel hanging down behind, and large black eyes, expressing a melancholy quiet, but which might be excited to shoot forth glances of fire more terrible than her father's sword. happily, too, for us, she talked french, having learned it from a french marquis who had served in greece and been domesticated with them; but young and modest, and unused to the company of strangers, she felt the embarrassment common to young ladies when attempting to speak a foreign language. and we could not talk to her on common themes. our lips were sealed, of course, upon the subject which had brought us to her house. we could not sound for her the praises of her gallant father. at parting, however, i told them that the name of marco bozzaris was as familiar in america as that of a hero of our own revolution, and that it had been hallowed by the inspiration of an american poet; and i added that, if it would not be unacceptable, on my return to my native country i would send the tribute referred to, as an evidence of the feeling existing in america toward the memory of marco bozzaris. my offer was gratefully accepted; and afterward, while in the act of mounting my horse to leave missilonghi, our guide, who had remained behind, came to me with a message from the widow and daughters reminding me of my promise. i do not see that there is any objection to my mentioning that i wrote to a friend, requesting him to procure halleck's "marco bozzaris," and send it to my banker at paris. my friend, thinking to enhance its value, applied to mr. halleck for a copy in his own handwriting. mr. halleck, with his characteristic modesty, evaded the application; and on my return home i told him the story of my visit, and reiterated the same request. he evaded me as he had done my friend, but promised me a copy of the new edition of his poems, which he afterward gave me, and which, i hope, is now in the hands of the widow and daughters of the grecian hero. i make no apology for introducing in a book the widow and daughters of marco bozzaris. true, i was received by them in private, without any expectation, either on their part or mine, that all the particulars of the interview would be noted and laid before the eyes of all who choose to read. i hope it will not be considered invading the sanctity of private life; but, at all events, i make no apology; the widow and children of marco bozzaris are the property of the world. chapter ii. choice of a servant.--a turnout.--an evening chat.--scenery of the road.--lepanto.--a projected visit.--change of purpose.--padras.--vostitza.--variety and magnificence of scenery. barren as our prospect was on landing, our first day in greece had already been full of interest. supposing that we should not find anything to engage us long, before setting out on our ramble we had directed our servant to procure horses, and when we returned we found all ready for our departure. one word with regard to this same servant. we had taken him at corfu, much against my inclination. we had a choice between two, one a full-blooded greek in fustinellas, who in five minutes established himself in my good graces, so that nothing but the democratic principle of submitting to the will of the majority could make me give him up. he held at that time a very good office in the police at corfu, but the eagerness which he showed to get out of regular business and go roving warmed me to him irresistibly. he seemed to be distracted between two opposing feelings; one the strong bent of his natural vagabond disposition to be rambling, and the other a sort of tugging at his heartstrings by wife and children, to keep him in a place where he had a regular assured living, instead of trusting to the precarious business of guiding travellers. he had a boldness and confidence that won me; and when he drew on the sand with his yataghan a map of greece, and told us the route he would take us, zigzag across the gulf of corinth to delphi and the top of parnassus, i wondered that my companions could resist him. our alternative was an italian from somewhere on the coast of the adriatic, whom i looked upon with an unfavourable eye, because he came between me and my greek; and on the morning of our departure i was earnestly hoping that he had overslept himself, or got into some scrape and been picked up by the guard; but, most provokingly, he came in time, and with more baggage than all of us had together. indeed, he had so much of his own, that, in obedience to nature's first law, he could not attend to ours, and in putting ashore some british soldiers at cephalonia he contrived to let my carpet-bag go with their luggage. this did not increase my amiable feeling toward him, and, perhaps, assisted in making me look upon him throughout with a jaundiced eye; in fact, before we had done with him, i regarded him as a slouch, a knave, and a fool, and had the questionable satisfaction of finding that my companions, though they sustained him as long as they could, had formed very much the same opinion. it was to him, then, that, on our return from our visit to the widow and daughters of marco bozzaris, we were indebted for a turnout that seemed to astonish even the people of missilonghi. the horses were miserable little animals, hidden under enormous saddles made of great clumps of wood over an old carpet or towcloth, and covering the whole back from the shoulders to the tail; the luggage was perched on the tops of these saddles, and with desperate exertions and the help of the citizens of missilonghi we were perched on the top of the luggage. the little animals had a knowing look as they peered from under the superincumbent mass, and, supported on either side by the by-standers till we got a little steady in our seats, we put forth from missilonghi. the only gentleman of our party was our servant, who followed on a european saddle which he had brought for his own use, smoking his pipe with great complacency, perfectly satisfied with our appearance and with himself. it was four o'clock when we crossed the broken walls of missilonghi. for three hours our road lay over a plain extending to the sea. i have no doubt, if my greek had been there, he would have given an interest to the road by referring to scenes and incidents connected with the siege of missilonghi; but demetrius--as he now chose to call himself--knew nothing of greece, ancient or modern; he had no sympathy of feeling with the greeks; had never travelled on this side of the gulf of corinth before; and so he lagged behind and smoked his pipe. it was nearly dark when we reached the miserable little village of bokara. we had barely light enough to look around for the best khan in which to pass the night. any of the wretched tenants would have been glad to receive us for the little remuneration we might leave with them in the morning. the khans were all alike, one room, mud floor and walls, and we selected one where the chickens had already gone to roost, and prepared to measure off the dirt floor according to our dimensions. before we were arranged a greek of a better class, followed by half a dozen villagers, came over, and, with many regrets for the wretched state of the country, invited us to his house. though dressed in the greek costume, it was evident that he had acquired his manners in a school beyond the bounds of his miserable little village, in which his house now rose like the leaning tower of pisa, higher than everything else, but rather rickety. in a few minutes we heard the death notes of some chickens, and at about nine o'clock sat down to a not unwelcome meal. several greeks dropped in during the evening, and one, a particular friend of our host's, supped with us. both talked french, and had that perfect ease of manner and savoir faire which i always remarked with admiration in all greeks who had travelled. they talked much of their travels; of time spent in italy and germany, and particularly of a long residence at bucharest. they talked, too, of greece; of her long and bitter servitude, her revolution, and her independence; and from their enthusiasm i could not but think that they had fought and bled in her cause. i certainly was not lying in wait to entrap them, but i afterward gathered from their conversation that they had taken occasion to be on their travels at the time when the bravest of their countrymen were pouring out their blood like water to emancipate their native land. a few years before i might have felt indignation and contempt for men who had left their country in her hour of utmost need, and returned to enjoy the privileges purchased with other men's blood; but i had already learned to take the world as i found it, and listened quietly while our host told us that, confiding in the permanency of the government secured by the three great powers, england, france, and russia, he had returned to greece, and taken a lease of a large tract of land for fifty years, paying a thousand drachms, a drachm being one sixth of a dollar, and one tenth of the annual fruits, at the end of which time one half of the land under cultivation was to belong to his heirs in fee. as our host could not conveniently accommodate us all, m. and demetrius returned to the khan at which we had first stopped and where, to judge from the early hour at which they came over to us the next morning, they had not spent the night as well as we did. at daylight we took our coffee, and again perched our luggage on the backs of the horses, and ourselves on top of the luggage. our host wished us to remain with him, and promised the next day to accompany us to padras; but this was not a sufficient inducement; and taking leave of him, probably for ever, we started for lepanto. we rode about an hour on the plain; the mountains towered on our left, and the rich soil was broken into rough sandy gullies running down to the sea. our guides had some apprehensions that we should not be able to cross the torrents that were running down from the mountain; and when we came to the first, and had to walk up along the bank, looking out for a place to ford, we fully participated in their apprehensions. bridges were a species of architecture entirely unknown in that part of modern greece; indeed, no bridges could have stood against the mountain torrents. there would have been some excitement in encountering these rapid streams if we had been well mounted; but, from the manner in which we were hitched on our horses, we did not feel any great confidence in our seats. still nothing could be wilder or more picturesque than our process in crossing them, except that it might have added somewhat to the effect to see one of us floating down stream, clinging to the tail of his horse. but we got over or through them all. a range of mountains then formed on our right, cutting us off from the sea, and we entered a valley lying between the two parallel ranges. at first the road, which was exceedingly difficult for a man or a sure-footed horse, lay along a beautiful stream, and the whole of the valley extending to the gulf of lepanto is one of the loveliest regions of country i ever saw. the ground was rich and verdant, and, even at that early season of the year, blooming with wild flowers of every hue, but wholly uncultivated, the olive-trees having all been cut down by the turks, and without a single habitation on the whole route. my scotch companion, who had a good eye for the picturesque and beautiful in natural scenery, was in raptures with this valley. i have since travelled in switzerland, not, however, in all the districts frequented by tourists; but in what i saw, beautiful as it is, i do not know a place where the wildness of mountain scenery is so delightfully contrasted with the softness of a rich valley. at the end of the valley, directly opposite padras, and on the borders of the gulf, is a wild road called scala cativa, running along the sides of a rocky, mountainous precipice overlooking the sea. it is a wild and almost fearful road; in some places i thought it like the perpendicular sides of the palisades; and when the wind blows in a particular direction it is impossible to make headway against it. our host told us that we should find difficulty that day; and there was just rudeness enough to make us look well to our movements. directly at our feet was the gulf of corinth; opposite a range of mountains; and in the distance the island of zante. on the other side of the valley is an extraordinary mountain, very high, and wanting a large piece in the middle, as if cut out with a chisel, leaving two straight parallel sides, and called by the unpoetical name of the armchair. in the wildest pan of the scala, where a very slight struggle would have precipitated us several hundred feet into the sea, an enormous shepherd's dog came bounding and barking toward us; and we were much relieved when his master, who was hanging with his flock of goats on an almost inaccessible height, called him away. at the foot of the mountain we entered a rich plain, where the shepherds were pasturing their flocks down to the shore of the sea, and in about two hours arrived at lepanto. after diligent search by demetrius (the name by which we had taken him, whose true name, however, we found to be jerolamon), and by all the idlers whom the arrival of strangers attracted, we procured a room near the farthest wall; it was reached by ascending a flight of steps outside, and boasted a floor, walls, and an apology for a roof. we piled up our baggage in one corner, or, rather, my companions did theirs, and went prowling about in search of something to eat. our servant had not fully apprized us of the extreme poverty of the country, the entire absence of all accommodations for travellers, and the absolute necessity of carrying with us everything requisite for comfort. he was a man of few words, and probably thought that, as between servant and master, example was better than precept, and that the abundant provision he had made for himself might serve as a lesson for us; but, in our case, the objection to this mode of teaching was, that it came too late to be profitable. at the foot of the hill fronting the sea was an open place, in one side of which was a little cafteria, where all the good-for-nothing loungers of lepanto were assembled. we bought a loaf of bread and some eggs, and, with a cup of turkish coffee, made our evening meal. we had an hour before dark, and strolled along the shore. though in a ruinous condition, lepanto is in itself interesting, as giving an exact idea of an ancient greek city, being situated in a commanding position on the side of a mountain running down to the sea, with its citadel on the top, and enclosed by walls and turrets. the port is shut within the walls, which run into the sea, and are erected on the foundations of the ancient naupactus. at a distance was the promontory of actium, where cleopatra, with her fifty ships, abandoned antony, and left to augustus the empire of the world; and directly before us, its surface dotted with a few straggling greek caiques, was the scene of a battle which has rung throughout the world, the great battle of the cross against the crescent, where the allied forces of spain, venice, and the pope, amounting to nearly three hundred sail, under the command of don john of austria, humbled for ever the naval pride of the turks. one hundred and thirty turkish galleys were taken and fifty-five sunk; thirty thousand turks were killed, ten thousand taken prisoners, fifteen thousand christian slaves delivered; and pope pius vi., with holy fervour, exclaimed, "there was a man sent from god, and his name was john." cervantes lost his left hand in this battle; and it is to wounds he received here that he makes a touching allusion when reproached by a rival: "what i cannot help feeling deeply is, that i am stigmatized with being old and maimed, as though it belonged to me to stay the course of time; or as though my wounds had been received in some tavern broil, instead of the most lofty occasion which past ages have yet seen, or which shall ever be seen by those to come. the scars which the soldier wears on his person, instead of badges of infamy, are stars to guide the daring in the path of glory. as for mine, though they may not shine in the eyes of the envious, they are at least esteemed by those who know where they were received; and, even was it not yet too late to choose, i would rather remain as i am, maimed and mutilated, than be now whole of my wounds, without having taken part in so glorious an achievement." i shall, perhaps, be reproached for mingling with the immortal names of don john of austria and cervantes those of george wilson, of providence, rhode island, and james williams, a black of baltimore, cook on board lord cochrane's flagship in the great battle between the greek and turkish fleets. george wilson was a gunner on board one of the greek ships, and conducted himself with so much gallantry, that lord cochrane, at a dinner in commemoration of the event, publicly drank his health. in the same battle james williams, who had lost a finger in the united states service under decatur at algiers, and had conducted himself with great coolness and intrepidity in several engagements, when no greek could be found to take the helm, volunteered his services, and was struck down by a splinter, which broke his legs and arms. the historian will probably never mention these gallant fellows in his quarto volumes; but i hope the american traveller, as he stands at sunset by the shore of the gulf of lepanto, and recalls to mind the great achievements of don john and cervantes, will not forget _george wilson_ and _james williams_. at evening we returned to our room, built a fire in the middle, and, with as much dignity as we could muster, sitting on the floor, received a number of greek visiters. when they left us we wrapped ourselves in our cloaks and lay down to sleep. sleep, however, is not always won when wooed. sometimes it takes the perverse humour of the wild irish boy: "the more you call me, the more i won't come." our room had no chimney; and though, as i lay all night looking up at the roof, there appeared to be apertures enough to let out the smoke, it seemed to have a loving feeling toward us in our lowly position, and clung to us so closely that we were obliged to let the fire go out, and lie shivering till morning. every schoolboy knows how hard it is to write poetry, but few know the physical difficulties of climbing the poetical mountain itself. we had made arrangements to sleep the next night at castri, by the side of the sacred oracle of delphi, a mile up parnassus. our servant wanted to cross over and go up on the other side of the gulf, and entertained us with several stories of robberies committed on this road, to which we paid no attention. the greeks who visited us in the evening related, with much detail, a story of a celebrated captain of brigands having lately returned to his haunt on parnassus, and attacked nine greek merchants, of whom he killed three; the recital of which interesting incident we ascribed to demetrius, and disregarded. early in the morning we mounted our horses and started for parnassus. at the gate of the town we were informed that it was necessary, before leaving, to have a passport from the eparchos, and i returned to procure it. the eparchos was a man about forty-five, tall and stout, with a clear olive complexion and a sharp black eye, dressed in a rich greek costume, and, fortunately, able to speak french. he was sitting cross-legged on a divan, smoking a pipe, and looking out upon the sea; and when i told him my business, he laid down his pipe, repeated the story of the robbery and murder that we had heard the night before, and added that we must abandon the idea of travelling that road. he said, farther, that the country was in a distracted state; that poverty was driving men to desperation; and that, though they had driven out the turks, the greeks were not masters of their own country. hearing that i was an american, and as if in want of a bosom in which to unburden himself, and as one assured of sympathy, he told me the whole story of their long and bloody struggle for independence, and the causes that now made the friends of greece tremble for her future destiny. i knew that the seat of the muses bore a rather suspicious character, and, in fact, that the rocks and caves about parnassus were celebrated as the abodes of robbers, but i was unwilling to be driven from our purpose of ascending it. i went to the military commandant, a bavarian officer, and told him what i had just heard from the eparchos. he said frankly that he did not know much of the state of the country, as he had but lately arrived in it; but, with the true bavarian spirit, advised me, as a general rule, not to believe anything a greek should tell me. i returned to the gate, and made my double report to my companions. dr. w. returned with me to the eparchos, where the latter repeated, with great earnestness, all he had told me; and when i persisted in combating his objections, shrugged his shoulders in a manner that seemed to say, "your blood be on your own heads;" that he had done his duty, and washed his hands of the consequences. as we were going out he called me back, and, recurring to our previous conversation, said that he had spoken to me as an american more freely than he would have done to a stranger, and begged that, as i was going to athens, i would not repeat his words where they could do him injury. i would not mention the circumstance now, but that the political clouds which then hung over the horizon of greece have passed away; king otho has taken his seat on the throne, and my friend has probably long since been driven or retired from public life. i was at that time a stranger to the internal politics of greece, but i afterward found that the eparchos was one of a then powerful body of greeks opposed to the bavarian influence, and interested in representing the state of the country as more unsettled than it really was. i took leave of him, however, as one who had intended me a kindness, and, returning to the gate, found our companion sitting on his horse, waiting the result of our farther inquiries. both he and my fellow envoy were comparatively indifferent upon the subject, while i was rather bent on drinking from the castalian fount, and sleeping on the top of parnassus. besides, i was in a beautiful condition to be robbed. i had nothing but what i had on my back, and i felt sure that a greek mountain robber would scorn my stiff coat and pantaloons and black hat. my companions, however were not so well situated, particularly m., who had drawn money at corfu, and had no idea of trusting it to the tender mercies of a greek bandit. in the teeth of the advice we had received, it would, perhaps, have been foolhardy to proceed; and, to my great subsequent regret, for the first and the last time in my ramblings, i was turned aside from my path by fear of perils on the road. perhaps, after all, i had a lucky escape; for, if the greek tradition be true, whoever sleeps on the mountain becomes an inspired poet or a madman, either of which, for a professional man, is a catastrophe to be avoided. our change of plan suited demetrius exactly; he had never travelled on this side of the gulf of corinth; and, besides that, he considered it a great triumph that his stories of robbers were confirmed by others, showing his superior knowledge of the state of the country; he was glad to get on a road which he had travelled before, and on which he had a chance of meeting some of his old travelling acquaintance. in half an hour he had us on board a caique. we put out from the harbour of lepanto with a strong and favourable wind; our little boat danced lightly over the waters of the gulf of corinth; and in three hours, passing between the frowning castles of romelia and morea, under the shadow of the walls of which were buried the bodies of the christians who fell in the great naval battle, we arrived at padras. the first thing we recognised was the beautiful little cutter which we had left at missilonghi, riding gracefully at anchor in the harbour, and the first man we spoke to on landing was our old friend the captain. we exchanged a cordial greeting, and he conducted us to mr. robertson, the british vice-consul, who, at the moment of our entering, was in the act of directing a letter to me at athens. the subject was my interesting carpet-bag. there being no american consul at padras, i had taken the liberty of writing to mr. robertson, requesting him, if my estate should find its way into his hands, to forward it to me at athens, and the letter was to assure me of his attention to my wishes. it may be considered treason against classical taste, but it consoled me somewhat for the loss of parnassus to find a stranger taking so warm an interest in my fugitive habiliments. there was something, too, in the appearance of padras, that addressed itself to other feelings than those connected with the indulgence of a classical humour. our bones were still aching with the last night's rest, or, rather, the want of it, at lepanto; and when we found ourselves in a neat little locanda, and a complaisant greek asked us what we would have for dinner, and showed us our beds for the night, we almost agreed that climbing parnassus and such things were fit only for boys just out of college. padras is beautifully situated at the mouth of the gulf of corinth, and the windows of our locanda commanded a fine view of the bold mountains on the opposite side of the gulf, and the parallel range forming the valley which leads to missilonghi. it stands on the site of the ancient patræ, enumerated by herodotus among the twelve cities of achaia. during the intervals of peace in the peloponnesian war, alcibiades, about four hundred and fifty years before christ, persuaded its inhabitants to build long walls down to the sea. philip of macedon frequently landed there in his expeditions to peloponnesus. augustus cæsar, after the battle of actium, made it a roman colony, and sent thither a large body of his veteran soldiers; and, in the time of cicero, roman merchants were settled there just as french and italians are now. the modern town has grown up since the revolution, or rather since the accession of otho, and bears no marks of the desolation at missilonghi and lepanto. it contains a long street of shops well supplied with european goods; the english steamers from corfu to malta touch here; and, besides the little greek caiques trading in the gulf of corinth, vessels from all parts of the adriatic are constantly in the harbour. among others, there was an austrian man-of-war from trieste, on her way to alexandria. by a singular fortune, the commandant had been in one of the austrian vessels that carried to new-york the unfortunate poles; the only austrian man-of-war which had ever been to the united states. a day or two after their arrival at new-york i had taken a boat at the battery and gone on board this vessel, and had met the officers at some parties given to them at which he had been present; and though we had no actual acquaintance with each other, these circumstances were enough to form an immediate link between us, particularly as he was enthusiastic in his praises of the hospitality of our citizens and the beauty of our women. lest, however, any of the latter should be vainglorious at hearing that their praises were sounded so far from home, i consider it my duty to say that the commandant was almost blind, very slovenly, always smoking a pipe, and generally a little tipsy. early in the morning we started for athens. our turnout was rather better than at missilonghi, but not much. the day, however, was fine; the cold wind which, for several days, had been blowing down the gulf of corinth, had ceased, and the air was warm, and balmy, and invigorating. we had already found that greece had something to attract the stranger besides the recollections of her ancient glories, and often forgot that the ground we were travelling was consecrated by historians and poets, in admiration of its own wild and picturesque beauty. our road for about three hours lay across a plain, and then close along the gulf, sometimes winding by the foot of a wild precipitous mountain, and then again over a plain, with the mountains rising at some distance on our right. sometimes we rose and crossed their rugged summits, and again descended to the seashore. on our left we had constantly the gulf, bordered on the opposite side by a range of mountains sometimes receding and then rising almost out of the water, while high above the rest rose the towering summits of parnassus covered with snow. it was after dark when we arrived at vostitza, beautifully situated on the banks of the gulf of corinth. this is the representative of the ancient ægium, one of the most celebrated cities in greece, mentioned by homer as having supplied vessels for the trojan war, and in the second century containing sixteen sacred edifices, a theatre, a portico, and an agora. for many ages it was the seat of the achaian congress. probably the worthy delegates who met here to deliberate upon the affairs of greece had better accommodations than we obtained, or they would be likely, i should imagine, to hold but short sessions. we stopped at a vile locanda, the only one in the place, where we found a crowd of men in a small room, gathered around a dirty table, eating, one of whom sprang up and claimed me as an old acquaintance. he had on a greek capote and a large foraging cap slouched over his eyes, so that i had some difficulty in recognising him as an italian who, at padras, had tried to persuade me to go by water up to the head of the gulf. he had started that morning, about the same time we did, with a crowd of passengers, half of whom were already by the ears. fortunately, they were obliged to return to their boats, and left all the house to us; which, however, contained little besides a strapping greek, who called himself its proprietor. before daylight we were again in the saddle. during the whole day's ride the scenery was magnificent. sometimes we were hemmed in as if for ever enclosed in an amphitheatre of wild and gigantic rocks; then from some lofty summit we looked out upon lesser mountains, broken, and torn, and thrown into every wild and picturesque form, as if by an earthquake; and after riding among deep dells and craggy steeps, yawning ravines and cloud-capped precipices, we descended to a quiet valley and the seashore. at about four o'clock we came down, for the last time, to the shore, and before us, at some distance, espied a single khan, standing almost on the edge of the water. it was a beautiful resting-place for a traveller; the afternoon was mild, and we walked on the shore till the sun set. the khan was sixty or seventy feet long, and contained an upper room running the whole length of the building. this room was our bedchamber. we built a fire at one end, made tea, and roasted some eggs, the smoke ascending and curling around the rafters, and finally passing out of the openings in the roof; we stretched ourselves in our cloaks and, with the murmur of the waves in our ears, looked through the apertures in the roof upon the stars, and fell asleep. about the middle of the night the door opened with a rude noise, and a tall greek, almost filling the doorway, stood on the threshold. after pausing a moment he walked in, followed by half a dozen gigantic companions, their tall figures, full dresses, and the shining of their pistols and yataghans wearing a very ugly look to a man just roused from slumber. but they were merely greek pedlers or travelling merchants, and, without any more noise, kindled the fire anew, drew their capotes around them, stretched themselves upon the floor, and were soon asleep. chapter iii. quarrel with the landlord.--ægina.--sicyon.--corinth.--a distinguished reception.--desolation of corinth.--the acropolis.--view from the acropolis.--lechæum and cenchreæ.--kaka scala.--arrival at athens. in the morning demetrius had a roaring quarrel with the keeper of the locanda, in which he tried to keep back part of the money we gave him to pay for us. he did this, however, on principle, for we had given twice as much as our lodging was worth, and no man ought to have more. his character was at stake in preventing any one from cheating us too much; and, in order to do this, he stopped our funds in transitu. we started early, and for some time our road lay along the shore. it was not necessary, surrounded by such magnificent scenery, to draw upon historical recollections for the sake of giving interest to the road; still it did not diminish that interest to know that, many centuries ago, great cities stood here, whose sites are now desolate or occupied as the miserable gathering-places of a starving population. directly opposite parnassus, and at the foot of a hill crowned with the ruins of an acropolis, in perfect desolation now, stood the ancient ægira; once numbering a population of ten thousand inhabitants, and in the second century containing three hiera, a temple, and another sacred edifice. farther on, and toward the head of the gulf of corinth, the miserable village of basilico stands on the site of the ancient sicyon, boasting as high an antiquity as any city in greece, and long celebrated as the first of her schools of painting. in five hours we came in sight of the acropolis of corinth, and, shortly after, of corinth itself. the reader need not fear my plunging him deeply into antiquities. greece has been explored, and examined, and written upon, till the subject is almost threadbare; and i do not flatter myself that i discovered in it anything new. still no man from such a distant country as mine can find himself crossing the plain of corinth, and ascending to the ancient city, without a strange and indescribable feeling. we have no old monuments, no classical associations; and our history hardly goes beyond the memory of that venerable personage, "the oldest inhabitant." corinth is so old that its early records are blended with the history of the heathen gods. the corinthians say that it was called after the son of jupiter, and its early sovereigns were heroes of the grecian mythology. it was the friend of sparta and the rival of athens; the first city to build war-galleys and send forth colonies, which became great empires. it was the assembling-place of their delegates, who elected philip, and afterward alexander the great, to conduct the war against the persians. in painting, sculpture, and architecture surpassing all the achievements of greece, or which the genius of man has ever since accomplished. conquered by the then barbarous romans, her walls were razed to the ground, her men put to the sword, her women and children sold into captivity, and the historian who records her fall writes that he saw the finest pictures thrown wantonly on the ground, and roman soldiers playing on them at draughts and dice. for many years deserted, corinth was again peopled; rose rapidly from its ruins; and, when st. paul abode there "a year and six months"--to the christian the most interesting period in her history--she was again a populous city, and the corinthians a luxurious people. its situation in the early ages of the world could not fail to make it a great commercial emporium. in the inexperienced navigation of early times it was considered difficult and dangerous to go around the point of the peloponnesus, and there was a proverb, "before the mariner doubles cape malea, he should forget all he holds dearest in the world." standing on the isthmus commanding the adriatic and ægean seas; receiving in one hand the riches of asia and in the other those of europe; distributing them to every quarter of the then known world, wealth followed commerce, and then came luxury and extravagance to such an extent that it became a proverb, "it is not for every man to go to corinth." as travellers having regard to supper and lodging, we should have been glad to see some vestige of its ancient luxury; but times are changed; the ruined city stands where stood corinth of old, but it has fallen once more; the sailor no longer hugs the well-known coasts, but launches fearlessly into the trackless ocean, and corinth can never again be what she has been. our servant had talked so much of the hotel at corinth, that perhaps the idea of bed and lodging was rather too prominent in our reveries as we approached the fallen city. he rode on before to announce our coming, and, working our way up the hill through narrow streets, stared at by all the men, followed by a large representation from the juvenile portion of the modern corinthians, and barked at by the dogs, we turned into a large enclosure, something like a barnyard, on which opened a ruined balcony forming the entrance to the hotel. demetrius was standing before it with our host, as unpromising a looking scoundrel as ever took a traveller in. he had been a notorious captain of brigands, and when his lawless band was broken up and half of its number hanged, he could not overcome his disposition to prey upon travellers, but got a couple of mattresses and bedsteads, and set up a hotel at corinth. demetrius had made a bargain for us at a price that made him hang his head when he told it, and we were so indignant at the extortion that we at first refused to dismount. our host stood aloof, being used to such scenes, and perfectly sure that, after storming a little, we should be glad to take the only beds between padras and athens. in the end, however, we got the better both of him and demetrius; for, as he had fixed separate prices for dinner, beds, and breakfast, we went to a little greek coffee-house, and raised half corinth to get us something to eat, and paid him only for our lodging. we had a fine afternoon before us, and our first movement was to the ruins of a temple, the only monument of antiquity in corinth. the city has been so often sacked and plundered, that not a column of the corinthian order exists in the place from which it derives its name. seven columns of the old temple are still standing, fluted and of the doric order, though wanting in height the usual proportion to the diameter; built probably before that order had attained its perfection, and long before the corinthian order was invented; though when it was built, by whom, or to what god it was consecrated, antiquaries cannot agree in deciding. contrasted with these solitary columns of an unknown antiquity are ruins of yesterday. houses fallen, burned, and black with smoke, as if the wretched inmates had fled before the blaze of their dwellings; and high above the ruined city, now as in the days when the persian and roman invaded it, still towers the acropolis, a sharp and naked rock, rising abruptly a thousand feet from the earth, inaccessible and impregnable under the science of ancient war; and in all times of invasion and public distress, from her earliest history down to the bloody days of the late revolution, the refuge of the inhabitants. [illustration: corinth.] it was late in the afternoon when we set out for the acropolis. about a mile from the city we came to the foot of the hill, and ascended by a steep and difficult path, with many turnings and windings, to the first gate. having been in the saddle since early in the morning, we stopped several times to rest, and each time lingered and looked out with admiration upon the wild and beautiful scenery around us; and we thought of the frequently recurring times when hostile armies had drawn up before the city at our feet, and the inhabitants, in terror and confusion, had hurried up this path and taken refuge within the gate before us. inside the gate were the ruins of a city, and here, too, we saw the tokens of ruthless war; the fire-brand was hardly yet extinguished, and the houses were in ruins. within a few years it has been the stronghold and refuge of infidels and christians, taken and retaken, destroyed, rebuilt, and destroyed again, and the ruins of turkish mosques and christian churches are mingled together in undistinguishable confusion. this enclosure is abundantly supplied with water, issuing from the rock, and is capable of containing several thousand people. the fountain of pyrene, which supplies the acropolis, called the most salubrious in greece, is celebrated as that at which pegasus was drinking when taken by bellerophon. ascending among ruined and deserted habitations, we came to a second gate flanked by towers. a wall about two miles in circumference encloses the whole summit of the rock, including two principal points which still rise above the rest. one is crowned with a tower and the other with a mosque, now in ruins; probably erected where once stood a heathen temple. some have mistaken it for a christian church, but all agree that it is a place built and consecrated to divine use, and that, for unknown ages men have gone up to this cloud-capped point to worship their creator. it was a sublime idea to erect on this lofty pinnacle an altar to the almighty. above us were only the unclouded heavens; the sun was setting with that brilliancy which attends his departing glory nowhere but in the east; and the sky was glowing with a lurid red, as of some great conflagration. the scene around and below was wondrously beautiful. mountains and rivers, seas and islands, rocks, forests, and plains, thrown together in perfect wantonness, and yet in the most perfect harmony, and every feature in the expanded landscape consecrated by the richest associations. on one side the saronic gulf, with its little islands, and ægina and salamis, stretching off to "sunium's marble height," with the ruins of its temple looking out mournfully upon the sea; on the other, the gulf of corinth or lepanto, bounded by the dark and dreary mountains of cytheron, where acteon, gazing at the goddess, was changed into a stag, and hunted to death by his own hounds; and where bacchus, with his train of satyrs and frantic bacchantes, celebrated his orgies. beyond were helicon, sacred to apollo and the muses, and parnassus, covered with snow. behind us towered a range of mountains stretching away to argos and the ancient sparta, and in front was the dim outline of the temple of the acropolis at athens. the shades of evening gathered thick around us while we remained on the top of the acropolis, and it was dark long before we reached our locanda. the next morning we breakfasted at the coffee-house, and left corinth wonderfully pleased at having outwitted demetrius and our brigand host, who gazed after us with a surly scowl as we rode away, and probably longed for the good old days when, at the head of his hanged companions, he could have stopped us at the first mountain-pass and levied contributions at his own rate. i probably condemn myself when i say that we left this ancient city with such a trifle uppermost in our thoughts, but so it was; we bought a loaf of bread as we passed through the market-place, and descended to the plain of corinth. we had still the same horses which we rode from padras; they were miserable animals, and i did not mount mine the whole day. indeed, this is the true way to travel in greece; the country is mountainous, and the road or narrow horse-path so rough and precipitous that the traveller is often obliged to dismount and walk. the exercise of clambering up the mountains and the purity of the air brace every nerve in the body, and not a single feature of the scenery escapes the eye. but, as yet, there are other things beside scenery; on each side of the road and within site of each other are the ruins of the ancient cities of lechæum and cenchreæ, the ports of corinth on the corinthian and saronic gulfs; the former once connected with it by two long walls, and the road to the latter once lined with temples and sepulchres, the ruins of which may still be seen. the isthmus connecting the peloponnesus with the continent is about six miles wide, and corinth owed her commercial greatness to the profits of her merchants in transporting merchandise across it. entire vessels were sometimes carried from one sea and launched into the other. the project of a canal across suggested itself both to the greeks and romans, and there yet exist traces of a ditch commenced for that purpose. on the death of leonidas, and in apprehension of a persian invasion, the peloponnesians built a wall across the isthmus from lechæum to cenchreæ. this wall was at one time fortified with a hundred and fifty towers; it was often destroyed and as often rebuilt; and in one place, about three miles from corinth, vestiges of it may still be seen. here were celebrated those isthmian games so familiar to every tyro in grecian literature and history; toward mount oneus stands on an eminence an ancient mound, supposed to be the tomb of melicertes, their founder, and near it is at this day a grove of the sacred pine, with garlands of the leaves of which the victors were crowned. in about three hours from corinth we crossed the isthmus, and came to the village of kalamaki on the shore of the saronic gulf, containing a few miserable buildings, fit only for the miserable people who occupied them. directly on the shore was a large coffee-house enclosed by mud walls, and having branches of trees for a roof; and in front was a little flotilla of greek caiques. next to the greek's love for his native mountains is his passion for the waters that roll at their feet; and many of the proprietors of the rakish little boats in the harbour talked to us of the superior advantage of the sea over a mountainous road, and tried to make us abandon our horses and go by water to athens; but we clung to the land, and have reason to congratulate ourselves upon having done so, for our road was one of the most beautiful it was ever my fortune to travel over. for some distance i walked along the shore, on the edge of a plain running from the foot of mount geranion. the plain was intersected by mountain torrents, the channel-beds of which were at that time dry. we passed the little village of caridi, supposed to be the sidus of antiquity, while a ruined church and a few old blocks of marble mark the site of ancient crommyon, celebrated as the haunt of a wild boar destroyed by theseus. at the other end of the plain we came to the foot of mount geranion, stretching out boldly to the edge of the gulf, and followed the road along its southern side close to and sometimes overhanging the sea. from time immemorial this has been called the kaka scala, or bad way. it is narrow, steep, and rugged, and wild to sublimity. sometimes we were completely hemmed in by impending mountains, and then rose upon a lofty eminence commanding an almost boundless view. on the summit of the range the road runs directly along the mountain's brink, overhanging the sea, and so narrow that two horsemen can scarcely pass abreast; where a stumble would plunge the traveller several hundred yards into the waters beneath. indeed, the horse of one of my companions stumbled and fell, and put him in such peril that both dismounted and accompanied me on foot. in the olden time this wild and rugged road was famous as the haunt of the robber sciron, who plundered the luckless travellers, and then threw them from this precipice. the fabulous account is, that theseus, three thousand years before, on his first visit to athens, encountered the famous robber, and tossed him from the same precipice whence he had thrown so many better men. according to ovid, the earth and the sea refused to receive the bones of sciron, which continued for some time suspended in the open air, until they were changed into large rocks, whose points still appear at the foot of the precipice; and to this day, say the sailors, knock the bottoms out of the greek vessels. in later days this road was so infested by corsairs and pirates, that even the turks feared to travel on it; at one place, that looks as though it might be intended as a jumping-off point into another world, ino, with her son melicertes in her arms (so say the greek poets), threw herself into the sea to escape the fury of her husband; and we know that in later days st. paul travelled on this road to preach the gospel to the corinthians. but, independently of all associations, and in spite of its difficulties and dangers, if a man were by accident placed on the lofty height without knowing where he was, he would be struck with the view which it commands, as one of the most beautiful that mortal eyes ever beheld. it was my fortune to pass over it a second time on foot, and i often seated myself on some wild point, and waited the coming up of my muleteers, looking out upon the sea, calm and glistening as if plated with silver, and studded with islands in continuous clusters stretching away into the ægean. during the greater part of the passage of the kaka scala my companions walked with me; and, as we always kept in advance, when we seated ourselves on some rude rock overhanging the sea to wait for our beasts and attendants, few things could be more picturesque than their approach. on the summit of the pass we fell into the ancient paved way that leads from attica into the peloponnesus, and walked over the same pavement which the greeks travelled, perhaps, three thousand years ago. a ruined wall and gate mark the ancient boundary; and near this an early traveller observed a large block of white marble projecting over the precipice, and almost ready to fall into the sea, which bore an inscription, now illegible. here it is supposed stood the stèle erected by theseus, bearing on one side the inscription, "here is peloponnesus, not ionia;" and on the other the equally pithy notification, "here is not peloponnesus, but ionia." it would be a pretty place of residence for a man in misfortune; for, besides the extraordinary beauty of the scenery, by a single step he might avoid the service of civil process, and set the sheriff of attica or the peloponnesus at defiance. descending, we saw before us a beautiful plain, extending from the foot of the mountain to the sea, and afar off, on an eminence commanding the plain, was the little town of megara. it is unfortunate for the reader that every ruined village on the road stands on the site of an ancient city. the ruined town before us was the birthplace of euclid, and the representative of that megara which is distinguished in history more than two thousand years ago; which sent forth its armies in the persian and peloponnesian wars; alternately the ally and enemy of corinth and athens; containing numerous temples, and the largest public houses in greece; and though exposed, with her other cities, to the violence of a fierce democracy, as is recorded by the historian, "the megareans retained their independence and lived in peace." as a high compliment, the people offered to alexander the great the freedom of their city. when we approached it its appearance was a speaking comment upon human pride. it had been demolished and burned by greeks and turks, and now presented little more than a mass of blackened ruins. a few apartments had been cleared out and patched up, and occasionally i saw a solitary figure stalking amid the desolation. i had not mounted my horse all day; had kicked out a pair of greek shoes on my walk, and was almost barefoot when i entered the city. a little below the town was a large building enclosed by a high wall, with a bavarian soldier lounging at the gate. we entered, and found a good coffee-room below, and a comfortable bed chamber above, where we found good quilts and mattresses, and slept like princes. early in the morning we set out for athens, our road for some time lying along the sea. about half way to the piræus, a ruined village, with a starving population, stands on the site of the ancient eleusis, famed throughout all greece for the celebration of the mysterious rites of ceres. the magnificent temple of the goddess has disappeared, and the colossal statue made by the immortal phidias now adorns the vestibule of the university at cambridge. we lingered a little while in the village, and soon after entered the via sacra, by which, centuries ago, the priests and people moved in solemn religious processions from athens to the great temple of ceres. at first we passed underneath the cliff along the shore, then rose by a steep ascent among the mountains, barren and stony, and wearing an aspect of desolation equal to that of the roman campagna; then we passed through a long defile, upon the side of which, deeply cut in the rock, are seen the marks of chariot-wheels; perhaps of those used in the sacred processions. we passed the ruined monastery of daphne, in a beautifully picturesque situation, and in a few minutes saw the rich plain of attica; and our muleteers and demetrius, with a burst of enthusiasm, perhaps because the journey was ended, clapped their hands and cried out, "atinæ! atinæ!" the reader, perhaps, trembles at the name of athens, but let him take courage. i promise to let him off easily. a single remark, however, before reaching it. the plain of attica lies between two parallel ranges of mountains, and extends from the sea many miles back into the interior. on the border of the sea stands the piræus, now, as in former times, the harbour of the city, and toward the east, on a little eminence, athens itself, like the other cities in greece, presenting a miserable appearance, the effects of protracted and relentless wars. but high above the ruins of the modern city towers the acropolis, holding up to the skies the ruined temples of other days, and proclaiming what athens was. we wound around the temple of theseus, the most beautiful and perfect specimen of architecture that time has spared; and in striking contrast with this monument of the magnificence of past days, here, in the entrance to the city, our horses were struggling and sinking up to their saddle-girths in the mud. we did in athens what we should have done in boston or philadelphia; rode up to the best hotel, and, not being able to obtain accommodations there, rode to another; where, being again refused admittance, we were obliged to distribute ourselves into three parcels. dr. willet went to mr. hill's (of whom more anon). m. found entrance at a new hotel in the suburbs, and i betook myself to the hotel de france. the garçon was rather bothered when i threw him a pair of old boots which i had hanging at my saddle-bow, and told him to take care of my baggage; he asked me when the rest would come up; and hardly knew what to make of me when i told him that was all i travelled with. i was still standing in the court of the hotel, almost barefoot, and thinking of the prosperous condition of the owner of a dozen shirts, and other things conforming, when mr. hill came over and introduced himself; and telling me that his house was the house of every american, asked me to waive ceremony and bring my luggage over at once. this was again hitting my sore point; everybody seemed to take a special interest in my luggage, and i was obliged to tell my story more than once. i declined mr. hill's kind invitation, but called upon him early the next day, dined with him, and, during the whole of my stay in athens, was in the habit, to a great extent, of making his house my home; and this, i believe, is the case with all the americans who go there; besides which, some borrow his money, and others his clothes. chapter iv. american missionary school.--visit to the school.--mr. hill and the male department.--mrs. hill and the female department.--maid of athens.--letter from mr. hill.--revival of athens.--citizens of the world. the first thing we did in athens was to visit the american missionary school. among the extraordinary changes of an ever-changing world, it is not the least that the young america is at this moment paying back the debt which the world owes to the mother of science, and the citizen of a country which the wisest of the greeks never dreamed of, is teaching the descendants of plato and aristotle the elements of their own tongue. i did not expect among the ruins of athens to find anything that would particularly touch my national feelings, but it was a subject of deep and interesting reflection that, in the city which surpassed all the world in learning, where socrates, and plato, and aristotle taught, and cicero went to study, the only door of instruction was that opened by the hands of american citizens, and an american missionary was the only schoolmaster; and i am ashamed to say that i was not aware of the existence of such an institution until advised of it by my friend dr. w. in eighteen hundred and thirty the rev. messrs. hill and robinson, with their families, sailed from this city (new-york) as the agents of the episcopal missionary society, to found schools in greece. they first established themselves in the island of tenos; but, finding that it was not the right field for their labours, employed themselves in acquiring a knowledge of the language, and of the character and habits of the modern greeks. their attention was directed to athens, and in the spring of eighteen hundred and thirty-one they made a visit to that city, and were so confirmed in their impressions, that they purchased a lot of ground on which to erect edifices for a permanent establishment, and, in the mean time, rented a house for the immediate commencement of a school. they returned to tenos for their families and effects, and again arrived at athens about the end of june following. from the deep interest taken in their struggle for liberty, and the timely help furnished them in their hour of need, the greeks were warmly prepossessed in favour of our countrymen; and the conduct of the missionaries themselves was so judicious, that they were received with the greatest respect and the warmest welcome by the public authorities and the whole population of athens. their furniture, printing-presses, and other effects were admitted free of duties; and it is but justice to them to say that, since that time, they have moved with such discretion among an excitable and suspicious people, that, while they have advanced in the great objects of their mission, they have grown in the esteem and good-will of the best and most influential inhabitants of greece; and so great was mr. hill's confidence in their affections, that, though there was at that time a great political agitation, and it was apprehended that athens might again become the scene of violence and bloodshed, he told me he had no fears, and felt perfectly sure that, in any outbreaking of popular fury, himself and family, and the property of the mission, would be respected.[1] in the middle of the summer of their arrival at athens, mrs. hill opened a school for girls in the magazine or cellar of the house in which they resided; the first day she had twenty pupils, and in two months one hundred and sixty-seven. of the first ninety-six, not more than six could read at all, and that very imperfectly; and not more than ten or twelve knew a letter. at the time of our visit the school numbered nearly five hundred; and when we entered the large room, and the scholars all rose in a body to greet us as americans, i felt a deep sense of regret that, personally, i had no hand in such a work, and almost envied the feelings of my companion, one of its patrons and founders. besides teaching them gratitude to those from whose country they derived the privileges they enjoyed, mr. hill had wisely endeavoured to impress upon their minds a respect for the constituted authorities, particularly important in that agitated and unsettled community; and on one end of the wall, directly fronting the seats of the scholars, was printed, in large greek characters, the text of scripture, "fear god, honour the king." it was all important for the missionaries not to offend the strong prejudices of the greeks by any attempt to withdraw the children from the religion of their fathers; and the school purports to be, and is intended for, the diffusion of elementary education only; but it is opened in the morning with prayer, concluding with the lord's prayer as read in our churches, which is repeated by the whole school aloud; and on sundays, besides the prayers, the creed, and sometimes the ten commandments, are recited, and a chapter from the gospels is read aloud by one of the scholars, the missionaries deeming this more expedient than to conduct the exercises themselves. the lesson for the day is always the portion appointed for the gospel of the day in their own church; and they close by singing a hymn. the room is thrown open to the public, and is frequently resorted to by the parents of the children and strangers; some coming, perhaps, says mr. hill, to "hear what these babblers will say," and "other some" from a suspicion that "we are setters forth of strange gods." the boys' school is divided into three departments, the lowest under charge of a greek qualified on the lancasterian system. they were of all ages, from three to eighteen; and, as mr. hill told me, most of them had been half-clad, dirty, ragged little urchins, who, before they were put to their a, b, c, or, rather, their alpha, beta, gamma, delta, had to be thoroughly washed, rubbed, scrubbed, doctored, and dressed, and, but for the school, would now, perhaps, be prowling vagabonds in the streets of athens, or training for robbery in the mountains. they were a body of fine-looking boys, possessing, as mr. hill told me, in an extraordinary degree, all that liveliness of imagination, that curiosity and eagerness after knowledge, which distinguished the greeks of old, retaining, under centuries of dreadful oppression, the recollection of the greatness of their fathers, and, what was particularly interesting, many of them bearing the great names so familiar in grecian history; i shook hands with a little miltiades, leonidas, aristides, &c., in features and apparent intelligence worthy descendants of the immortal men whose names they bear. and there was one who startled me, he was the son of the maid of athens! to me the maid of athens was almost an imaginary being, something fanciful, a creation of the brain, and not a corporeal substance, to have a little urchin of a boy. but so it was. the maid of athens is married. she had a right to marry, no doubt; and it is said that there is poetry in married life, and, doubtless, she is a much more interesting person now than the maid of athens at thirty-six could be; but the maid of athens is married to a scotchman! the maid of athens is now mrs. black! wife of george black. comment is unnecessary. but the principal and most interesting part of this missionary school was the female department, under the direction of mrs. hill, the first, and, except at syra, the only school for females in all greece, and particularly interesting to me from the fact that it owed its existence to the active benevolence of my own country-women. at the close of the greek revolution, female education was a thing entirely unknown in greece, and the women of all classes were in a most deplorable state of ignorance. when the strong feeling that ran through our country in favour of this struggling people had subsided, and greece was freed from the yoke of the mussulman, an association of ladies in the little town of troy, perhaps instigated somewhat by an inherent love of power and extended rule, and knowing the influence of their sex in a cultivated state of society, formed the project of establishing at athens a school exclusively for the education of females; and, humble and unpretending as was its commencement, it is becoming a more powerful instrument in the civilization and moral and religious improvement of greece, than all that european diplomacy has ever done for her. the girls were distributed in different classes, according to their age and advancement; they had clean faces and hands, a rare thing with greek children, and were neatly dressed, many of them wearing frocks made by ladies at home (probably at some of our sewing societies); and some of them had attained such an age, and had such fine, dark, rolling eyes as to make even a northern temperament feel the powerful influence they would soon exercise over the rising, excitable generation of greeks and almost make him bless the hands that were directing that influence aright. mr. and mrs. hill accompanied us through the whole establishment, and, being americans, we were everywhere looked upon and received by the girls as patrons and fathers of the school, both which characters i waived in favour of my friend; the one because he was really entitled to it, and the other because some of the girls were so well grown that i did not care to be regarded as standing in that venerable relationship. the didaskalissas, or teachers, were of this description, and they spoke english. occasionally mr. hill called a little girl up to us, and told us her history, generally a melancholy one, as, being reduced to the extremity of want by the revolution; or an orphan, whose parents had been murdered by the turks; and i had a conversation with a little penelope, who, however, did not look as if she would play the faithful wife of ulysses, and, if i am a judge of physiognomy, would never endure widowhood twenty years for any man. before we went away the whole school rose at once, and gave us a glorious finale with a greek hymn. in a short time these girls will grow up into women and return to their several families; others will succeed them, and again go out, and every year hundreds will distribute themselves in the cities and among the fastnesses of the mountains, to exercise over their fathers, and brothers, and lovers, the influence of the education acquired here; instructed in all the arts of woman in civilized domestic life, firmly grounded in the principles of morality, and of religion purified from the follies, absurdities, and abominations of the greek faith. i have seen much of the missionary labours in the east, but i do not know an institution which promises so surely the happiest results. if the women are educated, the men cannot remain ignorant; if the women are enlightened in religion, the men cannot remain debased and degraded christians. the ex-secretary rigos was greatly affected at the appearance of this female school; and, after surveying it attentively for some moments, pointed to the parthenon on the summit of the acropolis, and said to mrs. hill, with deep emotion, "lady, you are erecting in athens a monument more enduring and more noble than yonder temple;" and the king was so deeply impressed with its value, that, a short time before my arrival, he proposed to mr. hill to take into his house girls from different districts and educate them as teachers, with the view of sending them back to their districts, there to organize new schools, and carry out the great work of female education. mr. hill acceded to the proposal, and the american missionary school now stands as the nucleus of a large and growing system of education in greece; and, very opportunely for my purpose, within a few days i have received a letter from mr. hill, in which, in relation to the school, he says, "our missionary establishment is much increased since you saw it; our labours are greatly increased, and i think i may say we have now reached the summit of what we had proposed to ourselves. we do not think it possible that it can be extended farther without much larger means and more personal aid. we do not wish or intend to ask for either. we have now nearly forty persons residing with us, of whom thirty-five are greeks, all of whom are brought within the influence of the gospel; the greater part of them are young girls from different parts of greece, and even from egypt and turkey (greeks, however), whom we are preparing to become instructresses of youth hereafter in their various districts. we have five hundred, besides, under daily instruction in the different schools under our care, and we employ under us in the schools twelve native teachers, who have themselves been instructed by us. we have provided for three of our dear pupils (all of whom were living with us when you were here), who are honourably and usefully settled in life. one is married to a person every way suited to her, and both husband and wife are in our missionary service. one has charge of the government female school at the piræus, and supports her father and mother and a large family by her salary; and the third has gone with our missionaries to crete, to take charge of the female schools there. we have removed into our new house" (of which the foundation was just laid at the time of my visit), "and, large as it is, it is not half large enough. we are trying to raise ways and means to enlarge it considerably, that we may take more boarders under our own roof, which we look up to as the most important means of making sure of our labour; for every one who comes to reside with us is taken away from the corrupt example exhibited at home, and brought within a wholesome influence. lady byron has just sent us one hundred pounds toward enlarging our house with this view, and we have commenced the erection of three additional dormitories with the money." athens is again the capital of a kingdom. enthusiasts see in her present condition the promise of a restoration to her ancient greatness; but reason and observation assure us that the world is too much changed for her ever to be what she has been. in one respect, her condition resembles that of her best days; for, as her fame then attracted strangers from every quarter of the world to study in her schools, so now the capital of king otho has become a great gathering-place of wandering spirits from many near and distant regions. for ages difficult and dangerous of access, the ancient capital of the arts lay shrouded in darkness, and almost cut off from the civilized world. at long intervals, a few solitary travellers only found their way to it; but, since the revolution, it has again become a place of frequent resort and intercourse. it is true that the ancient halls of learning are still solitary and deserted, but strangers from every nation now turn hither; the scholar to roam over her classic soil, the artist to study her ancient monuments, and the adventurer to carve his way to fortune. the first day i dined at the hotel i had an opportunity of seeing the variety of material congregated in the reviving city. we had a long table, capable of accommodating about twenty persons. the manner of living was à la carte, each guest dining when he pleased; but, by tacit consent, at about six o'clock all assembled at the table. we presented a curious medley. no two were from the same country. our discourse was in english, french, italian, german, greek, russian, polish, and i know not what else, as if we were the very people stricken with confusion of tongues at the tower of babel. dinner over, all fell into french, and the conversation became general. every man present was, in the fullest sense of the term, a citizen of the world. it had been the fortune of each, whether good or bad, to break the little circle in which so many are born, revolve, and die; and the habitual mingling with people of various nations had broken down all narrow prejudices, and given to every one freedom of mind and force of character. all had seen much, had much to communicate, and felt that they had much yet to learn. by some accident, moreover, all seemed to have become particularly interested in the east. they travelled over the whole range of eastern politics, and, to a certain extent, considered themselves identified with eastern interests. most of the company were or had been soldiers, and several wore uniforms and stars, or decorations of some description. they spoke of the different campaigns in greece in which some of them had served; of the science of war; of marlborough, eugene, and more modern captains; and i remember that they startled my feelings of classical reverence by talking of leonidas at thermopylæ and miltiades at marathon in the same tone as of napoleon at leipsic and wellington at waterloo. one of them constructed on the table, with the knives and forks and spoons, a map of marathon, and with a sheathed yataghan pointed out the position of the greeks and persians, and showed where miltiades, as a general, was wrong. they were not blinded by the dust of antiquity. they had been knocked about till all enthusiasm and all reverence for the past were shaken out of them, and they had learned to give things their right names. a french engineer showed us the skeleton of a map of greece, which was then preparing under the direction of the french geographical society, exhibiting an excess of mountains and deficiency of plain which surprised even those who had travelled over every part of the kingdom. one had just come from constantinople, where he had seen the sultan going to mosque; another had escaped from an attack of the plague in egypt; a third gave the dimensions of the temple of the sun at baalbeck; and a fourth had been at babylon, and seen the ruins of the tower of babel. in short, every man had seen something which the others had not seen, and all their knowledge was thrown into a common stock. i found myself at once among a new class of men; and i turned from him who sneered at miltiades to him who had seen the sultan, or to him who had been at bagdad, and listened with interest, somewhat qualified by consciousness of my own inferiority. i was lying in wait, however, and took advantage of an opportunity to throw in something about america; and, at the sound, all turned to me with an eagerness of curiosity that i had not anticipated. in europe, and even in england, i had often found extreme ignorance of my own country; but here i was astonished to find, among men so familiar with all parts of the old world, such total lack of information about the new. a gentleman opposite me, wearing the uniform of the king of bavaria, asked me if i had ever been in america. i told him that i was born, and, as they say in kentucky, raised there. he begged my pardon, but doubtfully _suggested_, "you are not black?" and i was obliged to explain to him that in our section of america the indian had almost entirely disappeared, and that his place was occupied by the descendants of the gaul and the briton. i was forthwith received into the fraternity, for my home was farther away than any of them had ever been; my friend opposite considered me a bijou, asked me innumerable questions, and seemed to be constantly watching for the breaking out of the cannibal spirit, as if expecting to see me bite my neighbour. at first i had felt myself rather a small affair but, before separating, _l'americain_, or _le sauvage_, or finally, _le cannibal_ found himself something of a lion. footnote: [1] since my return home i have seen in a newspaper an account of a popular commotion at syra, in which the printing-presses and books at the missionaries were destroyed, and mr. robinson was threatened with personal violence. chapter v. ruins of athens.--hill of mars.--temple of the winds.--lantern of demosthenes.--arch of adrian.--temple of jupiter olympus.--temple of theseus.--the acropolis.--the parthenon.--pentelican mountain.--mount hymettus.--the piræus.--greek fleas.--napoli. the next morning i began my survey of the ruins of athens. it was my intention to avoid any description of these localities and monuments, because so many have preceded me, stored with all necessary knowledge, ripe in taste and sound in judgment, who have devoted to them all the time and research they so richly merit; but as, in our community, through the hurry and multiplicity of business occupations, few are able to bestow upon these things much time or attention, and, farthermore, as the books which treat of them are not accessible to all, i should be doing injustice to my readers if i were to omit them altogether. besides, i should be doing violence to my own feelings, and cannot get fairly started in athens, without recurring to scenes which i regarded at the time with extraordinary interest. i have since visited most of the principal cities in europe, existing as well as ruined and i hardly know any to which i recur with more satisfaction than athens. if the reader tire in the brief reference i shall make, he must not impute it to any want of interest in the subject; and as i am not in the habit of going into heroics, he will believe me when i say that, if he have any reverence for the men or things consecrated by the respect and admiration of ages, he will find it called out at athens. in the hope that i may be the means of inducing some of my countrymen to visit that famous city, i will add another inducement by saying that he may have, as i had, mr. hill for a cicerone. this gentleman is familiar with every locality and monument around or in the city, and, which i afterward found to be an unusual thing with those living in places consecrated in the minds of strangers, he retains for them all that freshness of feeling which we possess who only know them from books and pictures. by an arrangement made the evening before, early in the morning of my second day in athens mr. hill was at the door of my hotel to attend us. as we descended the steps a greek stopped him, and, bowing with his hand on his heart, addressed him in a tone of earnestness which we could not understand; but we were struck with the sonorous tones of his voice and the musical cadence of his sentences; and when he had finished, mr. hill told us that he had spoken in a strain which, in the original, was poetry itself, beginning, "americanos, i am a stagyrite. i come from the land of aristotle, the disciple of plato," &c., &c.; telling him the whole story of his journey from the ancient stagyra and his arrival in athens; and that, having understood that mr. hill was distributing books among his countrymen, he begged for one to take home with him. mr. hill said that this was an instance of every-day occurrence, showing the spirit of inquiry and thirst for knowledge among the modern greeks. this little scene with a countryman of aristotle was a fit prelude to our morning ramble. the house occupied by the american missionary as a school stands on the site of the ancient agora or market-place, where st. paul "disputed daily with the athenians." a few columns still remain; and near them is an inscription mentioning the price of oil. the schoolhouse is built partly from the ruins of the agora; and to us it was an interesting circumstance, that a missionary from a newly-discovered world was teaching to the modern greeks the same saving religion which, eighteen hundred years ago, st. paul, on the same spot, preached to their ancestors. winding around the foot of the acropolis, within the ancient and outside the modern wall, we came to the areopagus or hill of mars, where, in the early days of athens, her judges sat in the open air; and, for many ages, decided with such wisdom and impartiality, that to this day the decisions of the court of areopagites are regarded as models of judicial purity. we ascended this celebrated hill, and stood on the precise spot where st. paul, pointing to the temples which rose from every section of the city and towered proudly on the acropolis, made his celebrated address: "ye men of athens, i see that in all things ye are too superstitious." the ruins of the very temples to which he pointed were before our eyes. descending, and rising toward the summit of another hill, we came to the pnyx, where demosthenes, in the most stirring words that ever fell from human lips, roused his countrymen against the macedonian invader. above, on the very summit of the hill, is the old pnyx, commanding a view of the sea of salamis, and of the hill where xerxes sat to behold the great naval battle. during the reign of the thirty tyrants the pnyx was removed beneath the brow of the hill, excluding the view of the sea, that the orator might not inflame the passions of the people by directing their eyes to salamis, the scene of their naval glory. but, without this, the orator had material enough; for, when he stood on the platform facing the audience, he had before him the city which the athenians loved and the temples in which they worshipped, and i could well imagine the irresistible force of an appeal to these objects of their enthusiastic devotion, their firesides and altars. the place is admirably adapted for public speaking. the side of the hill has been worked into a gently inclined plane, semicircular in form, and supported in some places by a wall of immense stones. this plain is bounded above by the brow of the hill, cut down perpendicularly. in the centre the rock projects into a platform about eight or ten feet square, which forms the pnyx or pulpit for the orator. the ascent is by three steps cut out of the rock, and in front is a place for the scribe or clerk. we stood on this pnyx, beyond doubt on the same spot where demosthenes thundered his philippics in the ears of the athenians. on the road leading to the museum hill we entered a chamber excavated in the rock, which tradition hallows as the prison of socrates; and though the authority for this is doubtful, it is not uninteresting to enter the damp and gloomy cavern wherein, according to the belief of the modern athenians, the wisest of the greeks drew his last breath. farther to the south is the hill of philopappus, so called after a roman governor of that name. on the very summit, near the extreme angle of the old wall, and one of the most conspicuous objects around athens, is a monument erected by the roman governor in honour of the emperor trajan. the marble is covered with the names of travellers, most of whom, like philopappus himself, would never have been heard of but for that monument. descending toward the acropolis, and entering the city among streets encumbered with ruined houses, we came to the temple of the winds, a marble octagonal tower, built by andronicus. on each side is a sculptured figure, clothed in drapery adapted to the wind he represents; and on the top was formerly a triton with a rod in his hand, pointing to the figure marking the wind. the triton is gone, and great part of the temple buried under ruins. part of the interior, however, has been excavated, and probably, before long, the whole will be restored. east of the foot of the acropolis, and on the way to adrian's gate, we came to the lantern of demosthenes (i eschew its new name of the choragic monument of lysichus), where, according to an absurd tradition, the orator shut himself up to study the rhetorical art. it is considered one of the most beautiful monuments of antiquity, and the capitals are most elegant specimens of the corinthian order refined by attic taste. it is now in a mutilated condition, and its many repairs make its dilapidation more perceptible. whether demosthenes ever lived here or not, it derives an interest from the fact that lord byron made it his residence during his visit to athens. farther on, and forming part of the modern wall, is the arch of adrian, bearing on one side an inscription in greek, "this is the city of theseus;" and on the other, "but this is the city of adrian." on the arrival of otho a placard was erected, on which was inscribed, "these were the cities of theseus and adrian, but now of otho." many of the most ancient buildings in athens have totally disappeared. the turks destroyed many of them to construct the wall around the city, and even the modern greeks have not scrupled to build their miserable houses with the plunder of the temples in which their ancestors worshipped. passing under the arch of adrian, outside the gate, on the plain toward the ilissus, we came to the ruined temple of jupiter olympus, perhaps once the most magnificent in the world. it was built of the purest white marble, having a front of nearly two hundred feet, and more than three hundred and fifty in length, and contained one hundred and twenty columns, sixteen of which are all that now remain; and these, fluted and having rich corinthian capitals, tower more than sixty feet above the plain, perfect as when they were reared. i visited these ruins often, particularly in the afternoon; they are at all times mournfully beautiful, but i have seldom known anything more touching than, when the sun was setting, to walk over the marble floor, and look up at the lonely columns of this ruined temple. i cannot imagine anything more imposing than it must have been when, with its lofty roof supported by all its columns, it stood at the gate of the city, its doors wide open, inviting the greeks to worship. that such an edifice should be erected for the worship of a heathen god! on the architrave connecting three of the columns a hermit built his lonely cell, and passed his life in that elevated solitude, accessible only to the crane and the eagle. the hermit is long since dead, but his little habitation still resists the whistling of the wind, and awakens the curiosity of the wondering traveller. the temple of theseus is the last of the principal monuments, but the first which the traveller sees on entering athens. it was built after the battle of marathon, and in commemoration of the victory which drove the persians from the shores of greece. it is a small but beautiful specimen of the pure doric, built of pentelican marble, centuries of exposure to the open air giving it a yellowish tint, which softens the brilliancy of the white. three englishmen have been buried within this temple. the first time i visited it a company of greek recruits, with some negroes among them, was drawn up in front, going through the manual under the direction of a german corporal; and, at the same time, workmen were engaged in fitting it up for the coronation of king otho! [illustration: temple of jupiter olympus and acropolis at athena.] these are the principal monuments around the city, and, except the temples at pæstum, they are more worthy of admiration than all the ruins in italy; but towering above them in position, and far exceeding them in interest, are the ruins of the acropolis. i have since wandered among the ruined monuments of egypt and the desolate city of petra, but i look back with unabated reverence to the athenian acropolis. every day i had gazed at it from the balcony of my hotel, and from every part of the city and suburbs. early on my arrival i had obtained the necessary permit, paid a hurried visit, and resolved not to go again until i had examined all the other interesting objects. on the fourth day, with my friend m., i went again. we ascended by a broad road paved with stone. the summit is enclosed by a wall, of which some of the foundation stones, very large, and bearing an appearance of great antiquity, are pointed out as part of the wall built by themistocles after the battle of salamis, four hundred and eighty years before christ. the rest is venetian and turkish, falling to decay, and marring the picturesque effect of the ruins from below. the guard examined our permit, and we passed under the gate. a magnificent propylon of the finest white marble, the blocks of the largest size ever laid by human hands, and having a wing of the same material on each side, stands at the entrance. though broken and ruined, the world contains nothing like it even now. if my first impressions do not deceive me, the proudest portals of egyptian temples suffer in comparison. passing this magnificent propylon, and ascending several steps, we reached the parthenon or ruined temple of minerva; an immense white marble skeleton, the noblest monument of architectural genius which the world ever saw. standing on the steps of this temple, we had around us all that is interesting in association and all that is beautiful in art. we might well forget the capital of king otho, and go back in imagination to the golden age of athens. pericles, with the illustrious throng of grecian heroes, orators, and sages, had ascended there to worship, and cicero and the noblest of the romans had gone there to admire; and probably, if the fashion of modern tourists had existed in their days, we should see their names inscribed with their own hands on its walls. the great temple stands on the very summit of the acropolis, elevated far above the propylæa and the surrounding edifices. its length is two hundred and eight feet, and breadth one hundred and two. at each end were two rows of eight doric columns, thirty-four feet high and six feet in diameter, and on each side were thirteen more. the whole temple within and without was adorned with the most splendid works of art, by the first sculptors in greece, and phidias himself wrought the statue of the goddess, of ivory and gold, twenty-six cubits high, having on the top of her helmet a sphinx, with griffins on each of the sides; on the breast a head of medusa wrought in ivory, and a figure of victory about four cubits high, holding a spear in her hand and a shield lying at her feet. until the latter part of the seventeenth century, this magnificent temple, with all its ornaments, existed entire. during the siege of athens by the venetians, the central part was used by the turks as a magazine; and a bomb, aimed with fatal precision or by a not less fatal chance, reached the magazine, and, with a tremendous explosion, destroyed a great part of the buildings. subsequently the turks used it as a quarry, and antiquaries and travellers, foremost among whom is lord elgin, have contributed to destroy "what goth, and turk, and time had spared." around the parthenon, and covering the whole summit of the acropolis, are strewed columns and blocks of polished white marble, the ruins of ancient temples. the remains of the temples of erectheus and minerva polias are pre-eminent in beauty; the pillars of the latter are the most perfect specimens of the ionic in existence, and its light and graceful proportions are in elegant contrast with the severe and simple majesty of the parthenon. the capitals of the columns are wrought and ornamented with a delicacy surpassing anything of which i could have believed marble susceptible. once i was tempted to knock off a corner and bring it home, as a specimen of the exquisite skill of the grecian artist, which it would have illustrated better than a volume of description; but i could not do it; it seemed nothing less than sacrilege. afar off, and almost lost in the distance, rises the pentelican mountain, from the body of which were hewed the rough rude blocks which, wrought and perfected by the sculptor's art, now stand the lofty and stately columns of the ruined temple. what labour was expended upon each single column! how many were employed in hewing it from its rocky bed, in bearing it to the foot of the mountain, transporting it across the plain of attica, and raising it to the summit of the acropolis! and then what time, and skill, and labour, in reducing it from a rough block to a polished shaft, in adjusting its proportions, in carving its rich capitals, and rearing it where it now stands, a model of majestic grace and beauty! once, under the direction of mr. hill, i clambered up to the very apex of the pediment, and, lying down at full length, leaned over and saw under the frieze the acanthus leaf delicately and beautifully painted on the marble, and, being protected from exposure, still retaining its freshness of colouring. it was entirely out of sight from below, and had been discovered, almost at the peril of his life, by the enthusiasm of an english artist. the wind was whistling around me as i leaned over to examine it, and, until that moment, i never appreciated fully the immense labour employed and the exquisite finish displayed in every portion of the temple. the sentimental traveller must already mourn that athens has been selected as the capital of greece. already have speculators and the whole tribe of "improvers" invaded the glorious city; and while i was lingering on the steps of the parthenon, a german, who was quietly smoking among the ruins, a sort of superintendent whom i had met before, came up, and offering me a segar, and leaning against one of the lofty columns of the temple, opened upon me with "his plans of city improvements;" with new streets, and projected railroads, and the rise of lots. at first i almost thought it personal, and that he was making a fling at me in allusion to one of the greatest hobbies of my native city; but i soon found that he was as deeply bitten as if he had been in chicago or dunkirk; and the way in which he talked of moneyed facilities, the wants of the community, and a great french bank then contemplated at the piræus, would have been no discredit to some of my friends at home. the removal of the court has created a new era in athens; but, in my mind, it is deeply to be regretted that it has been snatched from the ruin to which it was tending. even i, deeply imbued with the utilitarian spirit of my country, and myself a quondam speculator in "up-town lots," would fain save athens from the ruthless hand of renovation; from the building mania of modern speculators. i would have her go on till there was not a habitation among her ruins; till she stood, like pompeii, alone in the wilderness, a sacred desert, where the traveller might sit down and meditate alone and undisturbed among the relics of the past. but already athens has become a heterogeneous anomaly; the greeks in their wild costume are jostled in the streets by englishmen, frenchmen, italians, dutchmen, spaniards, and bavarians, russians, danes, and sometimes americans. european shops invite purchasers by the side of eastern bazars, coffee-houses, and billiard-rooms, and french and german restaurants are opened all over the city. sir pultney malcolm has erected a house to hire near the site of plato's academy. lady franklin has bought land near the foot of mount hymettus for a country-seat. several english gentlemen have done the same. mr. richmond, an american clergyman, has purchased a farm in the neighbourhood; and in a few years, if the "march of improvement" continues, the temple of theseus will be enclosed in the garden of the palace of king otho; the temple of the winds will be concealed by a german opera-house, and the lantern of demosthenes by a row of "three-story houses." i was not a sentimental traveller, but i visited all the localities around athens, and, therefore, briefly mention that several times i jumped over the poetic and perennial ilissus, trotted my horse over the ground where aristotle walked with his peripatetics, and got muddied up to my knees in the garden of plato. one morning my scotch friend and i set out early to ascend mount hymettus. the mountain is neither high nor picturesque, but a long flat ridge of bare rock, the sides cut up into ravines, fissures, and gullies. there is an easy path to the summit, but we had no guide, and about midday, after a wild scramble, were worn out, and descended without reaching the top, which is exceedingly fortunate for the reader, as otherwise he would be obliged to go through a description of the view therefrom. returning, we met the king taking his daily walk, attended by two aids, one of whom was young marco bozzaris. otho is tall and thin, and, when i saw him, was dressed in a german military frockcoat and cap, and altogether, for a king, seemed to be an amiable young man enough. all the world speaks well of him, and so do i. we touched our hats to him, and he returned the civility; and what could he do more without inviting us to dinner? in old times there was a divinity about a king; but now, if a king is a gentleman, it is as much as we can expect. he has spent his money like a gentleman, that is, he cannot tell what has become of it. two of the three-millions loan are gone, and there is no colonization, no agricultural prosperity, no opening of roads, no security in the mountains; not a town in greece but is in ruins, and no money to improve them. athens, however, is to be embellished. with ten thousand pounds in the treasury, he is building a palace of white pentelican marble, to cost three hundred thousand pounds. otho was very popular, because, not being of age, all the errors of his administration were visited upon count armansbergh and the regency, who, from all accounts, richly deserved it; and it was hoped that, on receiving the crown, he would shake off the bavarians who were preying upon the vitals of greece, and gather around him his native-born subjects. in private life he bore a most exemplary character. he had no circle of young companions, and passed much of his time in study, being engaged, among other things, in acquiring the greek and english languages. his position is interesting, though not enviable; and if, as the first king of emancipated greece, he entertains recollections of her ancient greatness, and the ambition of restoring her to her position among the nations of the earth, he is doomed to disappointment. otho is since crowned and married. the pride of the greeks was considerably humbled by a report that their king's proposals to several daughters of german princes had been rejected; but the king had great reason to congratulate himself upon the spirit which induced the daughter of the duke of oldenburgh to accept his hand. from her childhood she had taken an enthusiastic interest in greek history, and it had been her constant wish to visit greece; and when she heard that otho had been called to the throne, she naively expressed an ardent wish to share it with him. several years afterward, by the merest accident, she met otho at a german watering-place, travelling with his mother, the queen of bavaria, as the count de missilonghi; and in february last she accompanied him to athens, to share the throne which had been the object of her youthful wish. m. dined at my hotel, and, returning to his own, he was picked up and carried to the guardhouse. he started for his hotel without a lantern, the requisition to carry one being imperative in all the greek and turkish cities; the guard could not understand a word he said until he showed them some money, which made his english perfectly intelligible; and they then carried him to a bavarian corporal, who, after two hours' detention, escorted him to his hotel. after that we were rather careful about staying out late at night. "thursday. i don't know the day of the month." i find this in my notes, the caption of a day of business, and at this distance of time will not undertake to correct the entry. indeed, i am inclined to think that my notes in those days are rather uncertain and imperfect; certainly not taken with the precision of one who expected to publish them. nevertheless, the residence of the court, the diplomatic corps, and strangers form an agreeable society at athens. i had letters to some of the foreign ministers, but did not present them, as i was hardly presentable myself without my carpet-bag. on "thursday," however, in company with dr. w., i called upon mr. dawkins, the british minister. mr. dawkins went to greece on a special mission, which he supposed would detain him six months from home, and had remained there ten years. he is a high tory, but retained under a whig administration, because his services could not well be dispensed with. he gave us much interesting information in regard to the present condition and future prospects of greece; and, in answer to my suggestion that the united states were not represented at all in greece, not even by a consul, he said, with emphasis, "you are better represented than any power in europe. mr. hill has more influence here than any minister plenipotentiary among us." a few days after, when confined to my room by indisposition, mr. dawkins returned my visit, and again spoke in the same terms of high commendation of mr. hill. it was pleasing to me, and i have no doubt it will be so to mr. hill's numerous friends in this country, to know that a private american citizen, in a position that keeps him aloof from politics, was spoken of in such terms by the representative of one of the great powers of europe. i had heard it intimated that there was a prospect of mr. dawkins being transferred to this country, and parted with him in the hope at some future day of seeing him the representative of his government here. i might have been presented to the king, but my carpet-bag--dr. w. borrowed a hat, and was presented; the doctor had an old white hat, which he had worn all the way from new-york. the tide is rolling backward; athens is borrowing her customs from the barbarous nations of the north; and it is part of the etiquette to enter a drawing-room with a hat (a black one) under the arm. the doctor, in his republican simplicity, thought that a hat, good enough to put on his own head, was good enough to go into the king's presence; but he was advised to the contrary, and took one of mr. hill's, not very much too large for him. he was presented by dr. ----, a german, the king's physician, with whom he had discoursed much of the different medical systems in germany and america. dr. w. was much pleased with the king. did ever a man talk with a king who was not pleased with him? but the doctor was particularly pleased with king otho, as the latter entered largely into discourse on the doctor's favourite theme, mr. hill's school, and the cause of education in greece. indeed, it speaks volumes in favour of the young king, that education is one of the things in which he takes the deepest interest. the day the doctor was to be presented we dined at mr. hill's, having made arrangements for leaving athens that night; the doctor and m. to return to europe. in the afternoon, while the doctor remained to be presented, m. and i walked down to the piræus, now, as in the days of her glory, the harbour of athens. the ancient harbour is about five miles from athens, and was formerly joined to it by _long walls_ built of stone of enormous size, sixty feet high, and broad enough on the top for two wagons to pass abreast. these have long since disappeared, and the road is now over a plain shaded a great part of the way by groves of olives. as usual at this time of day, we met many parties on horseback, sometimes with ladies; and i remember particularly the beautiful and accomplished daughters of count armansbergh, both of whom are since married and dead.[2] it is a beautiful ride, in the afternoon particularly, as then the dark outline of the mountains beyond, and the reflections of light and shade, give a peculiarly interesting effect to the ruins of the acropolis. toward the other end we paced between the ruins of the old walls, and entered upon a scene which reminded me of home. eight months before there was only one house at the piræus; but, as soon as the court removed to athens, the old harbour revived; and already we saw long ranges of stores and warehouses, and all the hurry and bustle of one of our rising western towns. a railroad was in contemplation, and many other improvements, which have since failed; but an _omnibus!_ that most modern and commonplace of inventions, is now running regularly between the piræus and athens. a friend who visited greece six months after me brought home with him an advertisement printed in greek, english, french, and german, the english being in the words and figures following, to wit: "advertisement. "the public are hereby informed, that on the nineteenth instant an omnibus will commence running between athena and the piræus, and will continue to do so every day at the undermentioned hours until farther notice. _hours of departure._ from athens. from piræus. half past seven o'clock a.m. half past eight o'clock a.m. ten o'clock a.m. eleven o'clock a.m. two o'clock p.m. three o'clock p.m. half past four p.m. half past five p.m. "the price of a seat in the omnibus is one drachme. "baggage, if not too bulky and heavy, can be taken on the roof. "smoking cannot be allowed in the omnibus, nor can dogs be admitted. "small parcels and packages may be sent by this conveyance at a moderate charge, and given to the care of the conducteur. "the omnibus starts from the corner of the hermes and æolus streets at athens and from the bazar at the piræus, and will wait five minutes at each place, during which period the conducteur will sound his horn. "athens, 17th, 29th september, 1836." old things are passing away, and all things are becoming new. for a little while yet we may cling to the illusions connected with the past, but the mystery is fast dissolving, the darkness is breaking away, and greece, and rome, and even egypt herself, henceforward claim our attention with objects and events of the present hour. already they have lost much of the deep and absorbing interest with which men turned to them a generation ago. all the hallowed associations of these ancient regions are fading away. we may regret it, we may mourn over it, but we cannot help it. the world is marching onward; i have met parties of my own townsmen while walking in the silent galleries of the coliseum; i have seen americans drinking champagne in an excavated dwelling of the ancient pompeii, and i have dined with englishmen among the ruins of thebes, but, blessed be my fortune, i never rode in an omnibus from the piræus to athens. we put our baggage on board the caique, and lounged among the little shops till dark, when we betook ourselves to a dirty little coffee-house filled with greeks dozing and smoking pipes. we met there a boat's crew of a french man-of-war, waiting for some of the officers, who were dining with the french ambassador at athens. one of them had been born to a better condition than that of a common sailor. one juvenile indiscretion after another had brought him down, and, without a single vice, he was fairly on the road to ruin. once he brushed a tear from his eyes as he told us of prospects blighted by his own follies; but, rousing himself, hurried away, and his reckless laugh soon rose above the noise and clamour of his wild companions. about ten o'clock the doctor came in, drenched with rain and up to his knees in mud. we wanted to embark immediately, but the appearance of the weather was so unfavourable that the captain preferred waiting till after midnight. the greeks went away from the coffee-house, the proprietor fell asleep in his seat, and we extended ourselves on the tables and chairs; and now the fleas, which had been distributed about among all the loungers, made a combined onset upon us. life has its cares and troubles, but few know that of being given up to the tender mercies of greek fleas. we bore the infliction till human nature could endure no longer; and, at about three in the morning, in the midst of violent wind and rain, broke out of the coffee-house and went in search of our boat. it was very dark, but we found her and got on board. she was a caique, having an open deck with a small covering over the stern. under this we crept, and with our cloaks and a sailcloth spread over us, our heated blood cooled, and we fell asleep. when we woke we were on the way to epidaurus. the weather was raw and cold. we passed within a stone's throw of salamis and ægina, and at about three o'clock, turning a point which completely hid it from view, entered a beautiful little bay, on which stands the town of epidaurus. the old city, the birthplace of esculapius, stands upon a hill projecting into the bay, and almost forming an island. in the middle of the village is a wooden building containing a large chamber, where the greek delegates, a band of mountain warriors, with arms in their hands, "in the name of the greek nation, proclaimed before gods and men its independence." at the locanda there was by chance one bed, which not being large enough for three, i slept on the floor. at seven o'clock, after a quarrel with our host and paying him about half his demand, we set out for napoli di romania. for about an hour we moved in the valley running off from the beautiful shore of epidaurus; soon the valley deepened into a glen, and in an hour we turned off on a path that led into the mountains, and, riding through wild and rugged ravines, fell into the dry bed of a torrent; following which, we came to the hieron elios, or sacred grove of esculapius. this was the great watering-place for the invalids of ancient greece, the prototype of the cheltenham and saratoga of modern days. it is situated in a valley surrounded by high mountains, and was formerly enclosed by walls, within which, that the credit of the god might not be impeached, _no man was allowed to die, and no woman to be delivered_. within this enclosure were temples, porticoes and fountains, now lying in ruins hardly distinguishable. the theatre is the most beautiful and best preserved. it is scooped out of the side of the mountain, rather more than semicircular in form, and containing fifty-four seats. these seats are of pink marble, about fifteen inches high and nearly three feet wide. in the middle of each seat is a groove, in which, probably, woodwork was constructed, to prevent the feet of those above from incommoding them who sat below, and also to support the backs of an invalid audience. the theatre faces the north, and is so arranged that, with the mountain towering behind it, the audience was shaded nearly all the day. it speaks volumes in favour of the intellectual character of the greeks, that it was their favourite recreation to listen to the recitation of their poets and players. and their superiority in refinement over the romans is in no way manifested more clearly than by the fact, that in the ruined cities of the former are found the remains of theatres, and in the latter of amphitheatres, showing the barbarous taste of the romans for combats of gladiators and wild beasts. it was in beautiful keeping with this intellectual taste of the greeks, that their places of assembling were in the open air, amid scenery calculated to elevate the mind; and, as i sat on the marble steps of the theatre, i could well imagine the high satisfaction with which the greek, under the shade of the impending mountain, himself all enthusiasm and passion, rapt in the interest of some deep tragedy, would hang upon the strains of euripides or sophocles. what deep-drawn exclamations, what shouts of applause had rung through that solitude, what bursts of joy and grief had echoed from those silent benches! and then, too, what flirting and coqueting, the state of society at the springs in the grove of esculapius being probably much the same as at saratoga in our own days. the whole grove is now a scene of desolation. the lentisculus is growing between the crevices of the broken marble; birds sing undisturbed among the bushes; the timid hare steals among the ruined fragments; and sometimes the snake is seen gliding over the marble steps. we had expected to increase the interest of our visit by taking our noonday refection on the steps of the theatre, but it was too cold for a picnic _al fresco_; and, mounting our horses, about two o'clock we came in sight of argos, on the opposite side of the great plain; and in half an hour more, turning the mountain, saw napoli di romania beautifully situated on a gentle elevation on the shore of the gulf. the scenery in every direction around napoli is exceedingly beautiful; and, when we approached it, bore no marks of the sanguinary scenes of the late revolution. the plain was better cultivated than any part of the adjacent country; and the city contained long ranges of houses and streets, with german names, such as heidecker, maurer-street, &c., and was seemingly better regulated than any other city in greece. we drove up to the hotel des quatre nations, the best we had found in greece, dined at a restaurant with a crowd of bavarian officers and adventurers, and passed the evening in the streets and coffee-houses. the appearance of otho-street, which is the principal, is very respectable; it runs from what was the palace to the grand square or esplanade, on one side of which are the barracks of the bavarian soldiers, with a park of artillery posted so as to sweep the square and principal streets; a speaking comment upon the liberty of the greeks, and the confidence reposed in them by the government. everything in napoli recalls the memory of the brief and unfortunate career of capo d'istria. its recovery from the horrors of barbarian war, and the thriving appearance of the country around, are ascribed to the impulse given by his administration. a greek by birth, while his country lay groaning under the ottoman yoke he entered the russian service, distinguished himself in all the diplomatic correspondence during the french invasion, was invested with various high offices and honours, and subscribed the treaty of paris in 1815 as imperial russian plenipotentiary. he withdrew from her service because russia disapproved the efforts of his countrymen to free themselves from the turkish yoke; and, after passing five years in germany and switzerland, chiefly at geneva, in 1827 he was called to the presidency of greece. on his arrival at napoli amid the miseries of war and anarchy, he was received by the whole people as the only man capable of saving their country. civil war ceased on the very day of his arrival, and the traitor grievas placed in his hands the key of the palimethe. i shall not enter into any speculations upon the character of his administration. the rank he had attained in a foreign service is conclusive evidence of his talents, and his withdrawal from that service for the reason stated is as conclusive of his patriotism; but from the moment he took into his hands the reins of government, he was assailed by every so-called liberal press in europe with the party cry of russian influence. the greeks were induced to believe that he intended to sell them to a stranger; and capo d'istria, strong in his own integrity, and confidently relying on the fidelity and gratitude of his countrymen, was assassinated in the streets on his way to mass. young mauromichalis, the son of the old bey of maina, struck the fatal blow, and fled for refuge to the house of the french ambassador. a gentleman attached to the french legation told me that he himself opened the door when the murderer rushed in with the bloody dagger in his hand, exclaiming, "i have killed the tyrant." he was not more than twenty-one, tall and noble in his appearance, and animated by the enthusiastic belief that he had delivered his country. my informant told me that he barred all the doors and windows, and went up stairs to inform the minister, who had not yet risen. the latter was embarrassed and in doubt what he should do. a large crowd gathered round the house; but, as yet, they were all mauromichalis's friends. the young enthusiast spoke of what he had done with a high feeling of patriotism and pride; and while the clamour out of doors was becoming outrageous, he ate his breakfast and smoked his pipe with the utmost composure. he remained at the embassy more than two hours, and until the regular troops drew up before the house. the french ambassador, though he at first refused, was obliged to deliver him up; and my informant saw him shot under a tree outside the gate of napoli, dying gallantly in the firm conviction that he had played the brutus and freed his country from a cæsar. the fate of capo d'istria again darkened the prospects of greece, and the throne went begging for an occupant until it was accepted by the king of bavaria for his second son otho. the young monarch arrived at napoli in february, eighteen hundred and thirty-three. the whole population came out to meet him, and the grecian youth ran breast deep in the water to touch his barge as it approached the shore. in february, eighteen hundred and thirty-four, it was decided to establish athens as the capital. the propriety of this removal has been seriously questioned, for napoli possessed advantages in her location, harbour, fortress and a town already built; but the king of bavaria, a scholar and an antiquary, was influenced more, perhaps, by classical feeling than by regard for the best interests of greece. napoli has received a severe blow from the removal of the seat of government; still it was by far the most european in its appearance of any city i had seen in greece. it had several restaurants and coffee-houses, which were thronged all the evening with bavarian officers and broken-down european adventurers, discussing the internal affairs of that unfortunate country, which men of every nation seemed to think they had a right to assist in governing. napoli had always been the great gathering-place of the phil-hellenists, and many appropriating to themselves that sacred name were hanging round it still. all over europe thousands of men are trained up to be shot at for so much per day; the soldier's is as regular a business as that of the lawyer or merchant, and there is always a large class of turbulent spirits constantly on the look-out for opportunities, and ever ready with their swords to carve their way to fortune. i believe that there were men who embarked in the cause of greece with as high and noble purposes as ever animated the warrior; but of many, there is no lack of charity in saying that, however good they might be as fighters, they were not much as men; and i am sorry to add that, from the accounts i heard in greece, some of the american phil-hellenists were rather shabby fellows. mr. m., then resident in napoli, was accosted one day in the streets by a young man, who asked him where he could find general jarvis. "what do you want with him?" said mr. m. "i hope to obtain a commission in his army." "do you see that dirty fellow yonder?" said mr. m., pointing to a ragged patriot passing at the moment; "well, twenty such fellows compose jarvis's army, and jarvis himself is no better off." "well, then," said the young _american_, "i believe i'll join the turks!" allen, another american patriot, was hung at constantinople. one bore the sacred name of washington; a brave but unprincipled man. mr. m. had heard him say, that if the devil himself should raise a regiment and would give him a good commission, he would willingly march under him. he was struck by a shot from the fortress of napoli while directing a battery against it; was taken on board his britannic majesty's ship asia, and breathed his last uttering curses on his country. there were others, however, who redeemed the american character. the agents sent out by the greek committee (among them our townsmen, messrs. post and stuyvesant), under circumstances of extraordinary difficulty fulfilled the charitable purposes of their mission with such zeal and discretion as to relieve the wants of a famishing people, and secure the undying gratitude of the greeks. dr. russ, another of the agents, established an american hospital at poros, and, under the most severe privations, devoted himself gratuitously to attendance upon the sick and wounded. dr. howe, one of the earliest american phil-hellenists, in the darkest hour of the revolution, and at a time when the greeks were entirely destitute of all medical aid, with an honourable enthusiasm, and without any hope of pecuniary reward, entered the service as surgeon, was the fellow-labourer of dr. russ in establishing the american hospital, and, at the peril of his life, remained with them during almost the whole of their dreadful struggle. colonel miller, the principal agent, now resident in vermont, besides faithfully performing the duties of his trust, entered the army, and conducted himself with such distinguished gallantry that he was called by the greek braves the american delhi, or daredevil.[3] footnotes: [2] they married two brothers, the young princes cantacuzenes. some scruples being raised against this double alliance on the score of consanguinity, the difficulty was removed by each couple going to separate churches with separate priests to pronounce the mystic words at precisely the same moment; so that neither could be said to espouse his sister-in-law. [3] in the previous editions of his work, the author's remarks were so general as to reflect upon the character of individuals who stand in our community above reproach. the author regrets that the carelessness of his expressions should have wounded where he never intended, and hopes the gentlemen affected will do him the justice to believe that he would not wantonly injure any man's character or feelings. chapter vi. argos.--tomb of agamemnon.--mycenæ.--gate of the lions.--a misfortune.--a midnight quarrel.--gratitude of a greek family.--megara. in the morning, finding a difficulty in procuring horses, some of the loungers about the hotel told us there was a carriage in napoli, and we ordered it to be brought out, and soon after saw moving majestically down the principal street a bella carozza, imported by its enterprising proprietor from the strada toledo at naples. it was painted a bright flaring yellow, and had a big breeched albanian for coachman. while preparing to embark, a greek came up with two horses, and we discharged the bella carozza. my companion hired the horses for padras, and i threw my cloak on one of them and followed on foot. the plain of argos is one of the most beautiful i ever saw. on every side except toward the sea it is bounded by mountains, and the contrast between these mountains, the plain, and the sea is strikingly beautiful. the sun was beating upon it with intense heat; the labourers were almost naked, or in several places lying asleep on the ground, while the tops of the mountains were covered with snow. i walked across the whole plain, being only six miles, to argos. this ancient city is long since in ruins; her thirty temples, her costly sepulchres, her gymnasium, and her numerous and magnificent monuments and statues have disappeared, and the only traces of her former greatness are some remains of her cyclopean walls, and a ruined theatre cut in the rock and of magnificent proportions. modern argos is nothing more than a straggling village. mr. riggs, an american missionary, was stationed there, but was at that time at athens with an invalid wife. i was still on foot, and wandered up and down the principal street looking for a horse. every greek in argos soon knew my business, and all kinds of four-legged animals were brought to me at exorbitant prices. when i was poring over the iliad i little thought that i should ever visit argos; still less that i should create a sensation in the ancient city of the danai; but man little knows for what he is reserved. argos has been so often visited that homer is out of date. every middy from a mediterranean cruiser has danced on the steps of her desolate theatre, and, instead of busying myself with her ancient glories, i roused half the population in hiring a horse. in fact, in this ancient city i soon became the centre of a regular horsemarket. every rascally jockey swore that his horse was the best, and, according to the descendants of the respectable sons of atreus, blindness, lameness, spavin, and staggers were a recommendation. a bavarian officer, whom i had met in the bazars, came to my assistance, and stood by me while i made my bargain. i had more regard to the guide than the horse; and picking out one who had been particularly noisy, hired him to conduct me to corinth and athens. he was a lad of about twenty, with a bright sparkling eye, who, laughing roguishly at his unsuccessful competitors, wanted to pitch me at once on the horse and be off. i joined my companions, and in a few minutes we left argos. the plain of argos has been immortalized by poetic genius as the great gathering-place of the kings and armies that assembled for the siege of troy. to the scholar and poet few plains in the world are more interesting. it carries him back to the heroic ages, to the history of times bordering on the fabulous, when fact and fiction are so beautifully blended that we would not separate them if we could. i had but a little while longer to remain with my friends, for we were approaching the point where our roads separated, and about eleven o'clock we halted and exchanged our farewell greetings. we parted in the middle of the plain, they to return to padras and europe, and i for the tomb of agamemnon, and back to athens, and i hardly know where besides. dr. w. i did not meet again until my return home. about a year afterward i arrived in antwerp in the evening from rotterdam. the city was filled with strangers, and i was denied admission at a third hotel, when a young man brushed by me in the doorway, and i recognised maxwell. i hailed him, but in cap and cloak, and with a large red shawl around my neck, he did not know me. i unrolled and discovered myself, and it is needless to say that i did not leave the hotel that night. it was his very last day of two years' travel on the continent; he had taken his passage in the steamer for london, and one day later i should have missed him altogether. i can give but a faint idea of the pleasure of this meeting. he gave me the first information of the whereabout of dr. w.; we talked nearly all night, and about noon the next day i again bade him farewell on board the steamer. i have for some time neglected our servant. when we separated, the question was who should _not_ keep him. we were all heartily tired of him, and i would not have had him with me on any account. still, at the moment of parting in that wild and distant region, never expecting to see him again, i felt some slight leaning toward him. touching the matter of shirts, it will not be surprising to a man of the world that, at the moment of parting, i had one of m.'s on my back; and, in justice to him, i must say it was a very good one, and lasted a long time. a friend once wrote to me on a like occasion not to wear his out of its turn, but m. laid no such restriction upon me. but this trifling gain did not indemnify me for the loss of my friends. i had broken the only link that connected me with home, and was setting out alone for i knew not where. i felt at once the great loss i had sustained, for my young muleteer could speak only his own language, and, as queen elizabeth said to sir walter raleigh of her hebrew, we had "forgotten our" greek. but on that classical soil i ought not to have been lonely. i should have conjured up the ghosts of the departed atridæ, and held converse on their own ground with homer's heroes. nevertheless, i was not in the mood; and, entirely forgetting the glories of the past, i started my horse into a gallop. my companion followed on a full run, close at my heels, belabouring my horse with a stick, which when he broke, he pelted him with stones; indeed, this mode of scampering over the ground seemed to hit his humour, for he shouted, hurraed, and whipped, and sometimes laying hold of the tail of the beast, was dragged along several paces with little effort of his own. i soon tired of this, and made signs to him to stop; but it was his turn now, and i was obliged to lean back till i reached him with my cane before i could make him let go his hold, and then he commenced shouting and pelting again with stones. in this way we approached the village of krabata, about a mile below the ruins of mycenæ, and the most miserable place i had seen in greece. with the fertile plain of argos uncultivated before them, the inhabitants exhibited a melancholy picture of the most abject poverty. as i rode through, crowds beset me with outstretched arms imploring charity; and a miserable old woman, darting out of a wretched hovel, laid her gaunt and bony hand upon my leg, and attempted to stop me. i shrunk from her grasp, and, under the effect of a sudden impulse, threw myself off on the other side, and left my horse in her hands. hurrying through the village, a group of boys ran before me, crying out "agamemnon," "agamemnon." i followed, and they conducted me to the tomb of "the king of kings," a gigantic structure, still in good preservation, of a conical form, covered with turf; the stone over the door is twenty-seven feet long and seventeen wide, larger than any hewn stone in the world except pompey's pillar. i entered, my young guides going before with torches, and walked within and around this ancient sepulchre. a worthy dutchman, herman van creutzer, has broached a theory that the trojan war is a mere allegory, and that no such person as agamemnon ever existed. shame upon the cold-blooded heretic. i have my own sins to answer for in that way, for i have laid my destroying hand upon many cherished illusions; but i would not, if i could, destroy the mystery that overhangs the heroic ages. the royal sepulchre was forsaken and empty; the shepherd drives within it his flock for shelter; the traveller sits under its shade to his noonday meal; and, at the moment, a goat was dozing quietly in one corner. he started as i entered, and seemed to regard me as an intruder; and when i flared before him the light of my torch, he rose up to butt me. i turned away and left him in quiet possession. the boys were waiting outside, and crying "mycenæ," "mycenæ," led me away. all was solitude, and i saw no marks of a city until i reached the relics of her cyclopean walls. i never felt a greater degree of reverence than when i approached the lonely ruins of mycenæ. at argos i spent most of my time in the horsemarket, and i had galloped over the great plain as carelessly as if it had been the road to harlem; but all the associations connected with this most interesting ground here pressed upon me at once. its extraordinary antiquity, its gigantic remains, and its utter and long-continued desolation, came home to my heart. i moved on to the gate of the lions, and stood before it a long time without entering. a broad street led to it between two immense parallel walls; and this street may, perhaps, have been a market-place. over the gate are two lions rampant, like the supporters of a modern coat-of-arms, rudely carved, and supposed to be the oldest sculptured stone in greece. under this very gate agamemnon led out his forces for the siege of troy; three thousand years ago he saw them filing before him, glittering in brass, in all the pomp and panoply of war; and i held in my hand a book which told me that this city was so old that, more than seventeen hundred years ago, travellers came as i did to visit its ruins; and that pausanias had found the gate of the lions in the same state in which i beheld it now. a great part is buried by the rubbish of the fallen city. i crawled under, and found myself within the walls, and then mounted to the height on which the city stood. it was covered with a thick soil and a rich carpet of grass. my boys left me, and i was alone. i walked all over it, following the line of the walls. i paused at the great blocks of stone, the remnants of cyclopic masonry, the work of wandering giants. the heavens were unclouded, and the sun was beaming upon it with genial warmth. nothing could exceed the quiet beauty of the scene. i became entangled in the long grass, and picked up wild flowers growing over long-buried dwellings. under it are immense caverns, their uses now unknown; and the earth sounded hollow under my feet, as if i were treading on the sepulchre of a buried city. i looked across the plain to argos; all was as beautiful as when homer sang its praises; the plain, and the mountains, and the sea were the same, but the once magnificent city, her numerous statues and gigantic temples, were gone for ever; and but a few remains were left to tell the passing traveller the story of her fallen greatness. i could have remained there for hours; i could have gone again and again, for i had not found a more interesting spot in greece; but my reveries were disturbed by the appearance of my muleteer and my juvenile escort. they pointed to the sun as an intimation that the day was passing; and crying "cavallo," "cavallo," hurried me away. to them the ruined city was a playground; they followed capering behind; and, in descending, three or four of them rolled down upon me; they hurried me through the gate of the lions, and i came out with my pantaloons, my only pantaloons, rent across the knee almost irreparably. in an instant i was another man; i railed at the ruins for their strain upon wearing apparel, and bemoaned my unhappy lot in not having with me a needle and thread. i looked up to the old gate with a sneer. this was the city that homer had made such a noise about; a man could stand on the citadel and almost throw a stone beyond the boundary-line of agamemnon's kingdom. in full sight, and just at the other side of the plain, was the kingdom of argos. the little state of rhode island would make a bigger kingdom than both of them together. but i had no time for deep meditation, having a long journey to corinth before me. fortunately, my young greek had no tire in him; he started me off on a gallop, whipping and pelting my horse with stones, and would have hurried me on, over rough and smooth, till either he, or i, or the horse broke down, if i had not jumped off and walked. as soon as i dismounted he mounted, and then he moved so leisurely that i had to hurry him on in turn. in this way we approached the range of mountains separating the plain of argos from the isthmus of corinth. entering the pass, we rode along a mountain torrent, of which the channel-bed was then dry, and ascended to the summit of the first range. looking back, the scene was magnificent. on my right and left were the ruined heights of argos and mycenæ; before me, the towering acropolis of napoli di romania; at my feet, the rich plain of argos, extending to the shore of the sea; and beyond, the island-studded ægean. i turned away with a feeling of regret that, in all probability, i should never see it more. i moved on, and in a narrow pass, not wide enough to turn my horse if i had been disposed to take to my heels, three men rose up from behind a rock, armed to the teeth with long guns, pistols, yataghans, and sheepskin cloaks--the dress of the klept or mountain robber--and altogether presenting a most diabolically cutthroat appearance. if they had asked me for my purse i should have considered it all regular, and given up the remnant of my stock of borrowed money without a murmur; but i was relieved from immediate apprehension by the cry of passe porta. king otho has begun the benefits of civilized government in greece by introducing passports, and mountain warriors were stationed in the different passes to examine strangers. they acted, however, as if they were more used to demanding purses than passports, for they sprang into the road and rattled the butts of their guns on the rock with a violence that was somewhat startling. unluckily, my passport had been made out with those of my companions, and was in their possession, and when we parted neither thought of it; and this demand to me, who had nothing to lose, was worse than that of my purse. a few words of explanation might have relieved me from all difficulty, but my friends could not understand a word i said. i was vexed at the idea of being sent back, and thought i would try the effect of a little impudence; so, crying out "americanos," i attempted to pass on; but they answered me "nix," and turned my horse's head toward argos. the scene, which a few moments before had seemed so beautiful, was now perfectly detestable. finding that bravado had not the desired effect, i lowered my tone and tried a bribe; this was touching the right chord; half a dollar removed all suspicions from the minds of these trusty guardians of the pass; and, released from their attentions, i hurried on. the whole road across the mountain is one of the wildest in greece. it is cut up by numerous ravines, sufficiently deep and dangerous, which at every step threaten destruction to the incautious traveller. during the late revolution the soil of greece had been drenched with blood; and my whole journey had been through cities and over battle-fields memorable for scenes of slaughter unparalleled in the annals of modern war. in the narrowest pass of the mountains my guide made gestures indicating that it had been the scene of a desperate battle. when the turks, having penetrated to the plain of argos, were compelled to fall back again upon corinth, a small band of greeks, under niketas and demetrius ypsilanti, waylaid them in this pass. concealing themselves behind the rocks, and waiting till the pass was filled, all at once they opened a tremendous fire upon the solid column below, and the pass was instantly filled with slain. six thousand were cut down in a few hours. the terrified survivers recoiled for a moment; but, as if impelled by an invisible power, rushed on to meet their fate. "the mussulman rode into the passes with his sabre in his sheath and his hands before his eyes, the victim of destiny." the greeks again poured upon them a shower of lead, and several thousand more were cut down before the moslem army accomplished the passage of this terrible defile. it was nearly dark when we rose to the summit of the last range of mountains, and saw, under the rich lustre of the setting sun, the acropolis of corinth, with its walls and turrets, towering to the sky, the plain forming the isthmus of corinth; the dark, quiet waters of the gulf of lepanto; and the gloomy mountains of cithæron, and helicon, and parnassus covered with snow. it was after dark when we passed the region of the nemean grove, celebrated as the haunt of the lion and the scene of the first of the twelve labours of hercules. we were yet three hours from corinth; and, if the old lion had still been prowling in the grove, we could not have made more haste to escape its gloomy solitude. reaching the plain, we heard behind us the clattering of horses' hoofs, at first sounding in the stillness of evening as if a regiment of cavalry or a troop of banditti was at our heels, but it proved to be only a single traveller, belated like ourselves, and hurrying on to corinth. i could see through the darkness the shining butts of his pistols and hilt of his yataghan, and took his dimensions with more anxiety, perhaps, than exactitude. he recognised my frank dress; and accosted me in bad italian, which he had picked up at padras (being just the italian in which i could meet him on equal ground), and told me that he had met a party of franks on the road to padras, whom, from his description, i recognised as my friends. it was nearly midnight when we rattled up to the gate of the old locanda. the yard was thronged with horses and baggage, and greek and bavarian soldiers. on the balcony stood my old brigand host, completely crestfallen, and literally turned out of doors in his own house; a detachment of bavarian soldiers had arrived that afternoon from padras, and taken entire possession, giving him and his wife the freedom of the outside. he did not recognise me, and, taking me for an englishman, began, "sono inglesi signor" (he had lived at corfu under the british dominion); and, telling me the whole particulars of his unceremonious ouster, claimed, through me, the arm of the british government to resent the injury to a british subject; his wife was walking about in no very gentle mood, but, in truth, very much the contrary. i did not speak to her, and she did not trust herself to speak to me; but, addressing myself to the husband, introduced the subject of my own immediate wants, a supper and night's lodging. the landlord told me, however, that the bavarians had eaten everything in the house, and he had not a room, bed, blanket, or coverlet to give me; that i might lie down in the hall or the piazza, but there was no other place. i was outrageous at the hard treatment he had received from the bavarians. it was too bad to turn an honest innkeeper out of his house, and deny him the pleasure of accommodating a traveller who had toiled hard all day, with the perfect assurance of finding a bed at night. i saw, however, that there was no help for it; and noticing an opening at one end of the hall, went into a sort of storeroom filled with all kinds of rubbish, particularly old barrels. an unhinged door was leaning against the wall, and this i laid across two of the barrels, pulled off my coat and waistcoat, and on this extemporaneous couch went to sleep. i was roused from my first nap by a terrible fall against my door. i sprang up; the moon was shining through the broken casement, and, seizing a billet of wood, i waited another attack. in the mean time i heard the noise of a violent scuffling on the floor of the hall, and, high above all, the voices of husband and wife, his evidently coming from the floor in a deprecating tone, and hers in a high towering passion, and enforced with severe blows of a stick. as soon as i was fairly awake i saw through the thing at once. it was only a little matrimonial _tête-à-tête_. the unamiable humour in which i had left them against the bavarians had ripened into a private quarrel between themselves, and she had got him down, and was pummelling him with a broomstick or something of that kind. it seemed natural and right enough, and was, moreover, no business of mine; and remembering that whoever interferes between man and wife is sure to have both against him, i kept quiet. others, however, were not so considerate, and the occupants of the different rooms tumbled into the hall in every variety of fancy night-gear, among whom was one whose only clothing was a military coat and cap, with a sword in his hand. when the hubbub was at its highest i looked out, and found, as i expected, the husband and wife standing side by side, she still brandishing the stick, and both apparently outrageous at everything and everybody around them. i congratulated myself upon my superior knowledge of human nature, and went back to my bed on the door. in the morning i was greatly surprised to find that, instead of whipping her husband, she had been taking his part. two german soldiers, already half intoxicated, had come into the hall, and insisted upon having more wine; the host refused, and when they moved toward my sleeping place, where the wine was kept, he interposed, and all came down together with the noise which had woke me. his wife came to his aid, and the blows which, in my simplicity, i had supposed to be falling upon him, were bestowed on the two bavarians. she told me the story herself; and when she complained to the officers, they had capped the climax of her passion by telling her that her husband deserved more than he got. she was still in a perfect fury; and as she looked at them in the yard arranging for their departure, she added, in broken english, with deep and, as i thought, ominous passion, "'twas better to be under the turks." i learned all this while i was making my toilet on the piazza, that is, while she was pouring water on my hands for me to wash; and, just as i had finished, my eye fell upon my muleteer assisting the soldiers in loading their horses. at first i did not notice the subdued expression of his usually bright face, nor that he was loading my horse with some of their camp equipage; but all at once it struck me that they were pressing him into their service. i was already roused by what the woman had told me, and, resolving that they should not serve me as they did the greeks, i sprang off the piazza, cleared my way through the crowd, and going up to my horse, already staggering under a burden poised on his back, but not yet fastened, put my hand under one side and tumbled it over with a crash on the other. the soldiers cried out furiously; and, while they were sputtering german at me, i sprang into the saddle. i was in admirable pugilistic condition, with nothing on but pantaloons, boots, and shirt, and just in a humour to get a whipping, if nothing worse; but i detested the manner in which the bavarians lorded it in greece; and riding up to a group of officers who were staring at me, told them that i had just tumbled their luggage off my horse, and they must bear in mind that they could not deal with strangers quite so arbitrarily as they did with the greeks. the commandant was disposed to be indignant and very magnificent; but some of the others making suggestions to him, he said he understood i had only hired my horse as far as corinth; but, if i had taken him for athens, he would not interfere; and, apologizing on the ground of the necessities of government, ordered him to be released. i apologized back again, returned the horse to my guide, whose eyes sparkled with pleasure, and went in for my hat and coat. i dressed myself, and, telling him to be ready when i had finished my breakfast, went out expecting to start forthwith; but, to my surprise, my host told me that the lad refused to go any farther without an increase of pay; and, sure enough, there he stood, making no preparation for moving. the cavalcade of soldiers had gone, and taken with them every horse in corinth, and the young rascal intended to take advantage of my necessity. i told him that i had hired him to athens for such a price, and that i had saved him from impressment, and consequent loss of wages, by the soldiers, which he admitted. i added that he was a young rascal, which he neither admitted nor denied, but answered with a roguish laugh. the extra price was no object compared with the vexation of a day's detention; but a traveller is apt to think that all the world is conspiring to impose upon him, and, at times, to be very resolute in resisting. i was peculiarly so then, and, after a few words, set off to complain to the head of the police. without any ado he trotted along with me, and we proceeded together, followed by a troup of idlers, i in something of a passion, he perfectly cool, good-natured, and considerate, merely keeping out of the way of my stick. hurrying along near the columns of the old temple, i stumbled, and he sprang forward to assist me, his face expressing great interest, and a fear that i had hurt myself; and when i walked toward a house which i had mistaken for the bureau of the police department, he ran after me to direct me right. all this mollified me considerably; and, before we reached the door, the affair began to strike me as rather ludicrous. i stated my case, however, to the eparchos, a greek in frank dress, who spoke french with great facility, and treated me with the greatest consideration. he was so full of professions that i felt quite sure of a decision in my favour; but, assuming my story to be true, and without asking the lad for his excuse, he shrugged his shoulders, and said it would take time to examine the matter, and, if i was in a hurry, i had better submit. to be sure, he said, the fellow was a great rogue, and he gave his countrymen in general a character that would not tell well in print; but added, in their justification, that they were imposed upon and oppressed by everybody, and therefore considered that they had a right to take their advantage whenever an opportunity offered. the young man sat down on the floor, and looked at me with the most frank, honest, and open expression, as if perfectly unconscious that he was doing anything wrong. i could not but acknowledge that some excuse for him was to be drawn from the nature of the school in which he had been brought up, and, after a little parley, agreed to pay him the additional price, if, at the end of the journey, i was satisfied with his conduct. this was enough; his face brightened, he sprang up and took my hand, and we left the house the best friends in the world. he seemed to be hurt as well as surprised at my finding fault with him, for to him all seemed perfectly natural; and, to seal the reconciliation, he hurried on ahead, and had the horse ready when i reached the locanda. i took leave of my host with a better feeling than before, and set out a second time on the road to athens. at kalamaki, while walking along the shore, a greek who spoke the lingua franca came from on board one of the little caiques, and, when he learned that i was an american, described to me the scene that had taken place on that beach upon the arrival of provisions from america; when thousands of miserable beings who had fled from the blaze of their dwellings, and lived for months upon plants and roots; grayheaded men, mothers with infants at their breasts, emaciated with hunger and almost frantic with despair, came down from their mountain retreats to receive the welcome relief. he might well remember the scene, for he had been one of that starving people; and he took me to his house, and showed me his wife and four children, now nearly all grown, telling me that they had all been rescued from death by the generosity of my countrymen. i do not know why, but in those countries it did not seem unmanly for a bearded and whiskered man to weep; i felt anything but contempt for him when, with his heart overflowing and his eyes filled with tears, he told me, when i returned home, to say to my countrymen that i had seen and talked with a recipient of their bounty; and though the greeks might never repay us, they could never forget what we had done for them. i remembered the excitement in our country in their behalf, in colleges and schools, from the graybearded senator to the prattling schoolboy, and reflected that, perhaps, my mite, cast carelessly upon the waters, had saved from the extremity of misery this grateful family. i wish that the cold-blooded prudence which would have checked our honest enthusiasm in favour of a people, under calamities and horrors worse than ever fell to the lot of man struggling to be free, could have listened to the gratitude of this greek family. with deep interest i bade them farewell, and, telling my guide to follow with my horse, walked over to the foot of the mountain. ascending, i saw in one of the openings of the road a packhorse and a soldier in the bavarian uniform, and, hoping to find some one to talk with, i hailed him. he was on the top of the mountain, so far off that he did not hear me; and when, with the help of my greek, i had succeeded in gaining his attention, he looked for some time without being able to see me. when he did, however, he waited; but, to my no small disappointment, he answered my first question with the odious "nix." we tried each other in two or three dialects; but, finding it of no use, i sat down to rest, and he, for courtesy, joined me; my young greek, in the spirit of good-fellowship, doing the same. he was a tall, noble-looking fellow, and, like myself, a stranger in greece; and, though we could not say so, it was understood that we were glad to meet and travel together as comrades. the tongue causes more evils than the sword; and, as we were debarred the use of this mischievous member, and walked all day side by side, seldom three paces apart, before night we were sworn friends. about five o'clock in the afternoon we arrived at megara. a group of bavarian soldiers was lounging round the door of the khan, who welcomed their expected comrade and me as his companion. my friend left me, and soon returned with the compliments of the commandant, and an invitation to visit him in the evening. i had, however, accepted a prior invitation from the soldiers for a rendezvous in the locanda. i wandered till dark among the ruined houses of the town, thought of euclid and alexander the great, and returning, went up to the same room in which i had slept with my friends, pored over an old map of greece hanging on the wall, made a few notes, and throwing myself back on a sort of divan, while thinking what i should do fell asleep. about ten o'clock i was roused by the loud roar of a chorus, not like a sudden burst, but a thing that seemed to have swelled up to that point by degrees; and rubbing my eyes, and stumbling down stairs, i entered the banqueting hall; a long, rough wooden table extended the whole length of the room, supplied with only two articles, wine-flagons and tobacco-pouches; forty or fifty soldiers were sitting round it, smoking pipes and singing with all their souls, and, at the moment i entered, waving their pipes to the dying cadence of a hunting chorus. then followed a long thump on the table, and they all rose; my long travelling friend, with a young soldier who spoke a little french, came up, and, escorting me to the head of the table, gave me a seat by the side of the chairman. one of them attempted to administer a cup of wine, and the other thrust at me the end of a pipe, and i should have been obliged to kick and abscond but for the relief afforded me by the entrance of another new-comer. this was no other than the corporal's wife; and if i had been received warmly, she was greeted with enthusiasm. half the table sprang forward to escort her, two of them collared the president and hauled him off his seat, and the whole company, by acclamation, installed her in his place. she accepted it without any hesitation, while two of them, with clumsy courtesy, took off her bonnet, which i, sitting at her right hand, took charge of. all then resumed their places, and the revel went on more gayly than ever. the lady president was about thirty, plainly but neatly dressed, and, though not handsome, had a frank, amiable, and good-tempered expression, indicating that greatest of woman's attributes, a good heart. in fact, she looked what the young man at my side told me she was, the peacemaker of the regiment; and he added, that they always tried to have her at their convivial meetings, for when she was among them the brawling spirits were kept down, and every man would be ashamed to quarrel in her presence. there was no chivalry, no heroic devotion about them, but their manner toward her was as speaking a tribute as was ever paid to the influence of woman; and i question whether beauty in her bower, surrounded by belted knights and barons bold, ever exercised in her more exalted sphere a more happy influence. i talked with her, and with the utmost simplicity she told me that the soldiers all loved her; that they were all kind to her, and she looked upon them all as brothers. we broke up at about twelve o'clock with a song, requiring each person to take the hand of his neighbour; one of her hands fell to me, and i took it with a respect seldom surpassed in touching the hand of woman; for i felt that she was cheering the rough path of a soldier's life, and, among scenes calculated to harden the heart, reminding them of mothers, and sisters, and sweethearts at home. chapter vii. a dreary funeral.--marathon.--mount pentelicus.--a mystery.--woes of a lover.--reveries of glory.--scio's rocky isle.--a blood-stained page of history.--a greek prelate.--desolation.--the exile's return. early in the morning i again started. in a little khan at eleusis i saw three or four bavarian soldiers drinking, and ridiculing the greek proprietor, calling him patrioti and capitani. the greek bore their gibes and sneers without a word; but there was a deadly expression in his look, which seemed to say, "i bide my time;" and i remember then thinking that the bavarians were running up an account which would one day be settled with blood. in fact, the soldiers went too far; and, as i thought, to show off before me, one of them slapped the greek on the back, and made him spill a measure of wine which he was carrying to a customer, when the latter turned upon him like lightning, threw him down, and would have strangled him if he had not been pulled off by the by-standers. indeed, the greeks had already learned both their intellectual and physical superiority over the bavarians; and, a short time before, a party of soldiers sent to subdue a band of maniote insurgents had been captured, and, after a farce of selling them at auction at a dollar a head, were kicked, and whipped, and sent off. about four o'clock i arrived once more at athens, dined at my old hotel, and passed the evening at mr. hill's. the next day i lounged about the city. i had been more than a month without my carpet-bag, and the way in which i managed during that time is a thing between my travelling companions and myself. a prudent scotchman used to boast of a careful nephew, who, in travelling, instead of leaving some of his clothes at every hotel on the road, always brought home _more_ than he took away with him. i was a model of this kind of carefulness while my opportunities lasted; but my companions had left me, and this morning i went to the bazars and bought a couple of shirts. dressed up in one of them, i strolled outside the walls; and, while sitting in the shadow of a column of the temple of jupiter, i saw coming from the city, through hadrian's gate, four men, carrying a burden by the corners of a coverlet, followed by another having in his hands a bottle and spade. as they approached i saw they were bearing the dead body of a woman, whom, on joining them, i found to be the wife of the man who followed. he was an englishman or an american (for he called himself either, as occasion required) whom i had seen at my hotel and at mr. hill's; had been a sailor, and probably deserted from his ship, and many years a resident of athens, where he married a greek woman. he was a thriftless fellow, and, as he told me, had lived principally by the labour of his wife, who washed for european travellers. he had been so long in greece, and his connexions and associations were so thoroughly greek, that he had lost that sacredness of feeling so powerful both in englishmen and americans of every class in regard to the decent burial of the dead, though he did say that he had expected to procure a coffin, but the police of the city had sent officers to take her away and bury her. there was something so forlorn in the appearance of this rude funeral, that my first impulse was to turn away; but i checked myself and followed. several times the greeks laid the corpse on the ground and stopped to rest, chattering indifferently on various subjects. we crossed the ilissus, and at some distance came to a little greek chapel excavated in the rock. the door was so low that we were obliged to stoop on entering, and when within we could hardly stand upright. the greeks laid down the body in front of the altar; the husband went for the priest, the greeks to select a place for a grave, and i remained alone with the dead. i sat in the doorway, looking inside upon the corpse, and out upon the greeks digging the grave. in a short time the husband returned with a priest, one of the most miserable of that class of "blind teachers" who swarm in greece. he immediately commenced the funeral service, which continued nearly an hour, by which time the greeks returned and, taking up the body, carried it to the graveside and laid it within. i knew the hollow sound of the first clod of earth which falls upon the lid of a coffin, and shrunk from its leaden fall upon the uncovered body. i turned away, and, when at some distance, looked back and saw them packing the earth over the grave. i never saw so dreary a burial-scene. returning, i passed by the ancient stadium of herodes atticus, once capable of containing twenty-five thousand spectators; the whole structure was covered with the purest white marble. all remains of its magnificence are now gone; but i could still trace on the excavated side of the hill its ancient form of a horseshoe, and walked through the subterraneous passage by which the vanquished in the games retreated from the presence of the spectators. returning to the city, i learned that an affray had just taken place between some greeks and bavarians, and, hurrying to the place near the bazars, found a crowd gathered round a soldier who had been stabbed by a greek. according to the greeks, the affair had been caused by the habitual insults and provocation given by the bavarians, the soldier having wantonly knocked a drinking-cup out of the greek's hand while he was drinking. in the crowd i met a lounging italian (the same who wanted me to come up from padras by water), a good-natured and good-for-nothing fellow, and skilled in tongues; and going with him into a coffee-house thronged with bavarians and europeans of various nations in the service of government, heard another story, by which it appeared that the greeks, as usual, were in the wrong, and that the poor bavarian had been stabbed without the slightest provocation, purely from the greeks' love of stabbing. tired of this, i left the scene of contention, and a few streets off met an athenian, a friend of two or three days' standing, and, stopping under a window illuminated by a pair of bright eyes from above, happened to express my admiration of the lady who owned them, when he tested the strength of my feelings on the subject by asking me if i would like to marry her. i was not prepared at the moment to give precisely that proof, and he followed up his blow by telling me that, if i wished it, he would engage to secure her for me before the next morning. the greeks are almost universally poor. with them every traveller is rich, and they are so thoroughly civilized as to think that a rich man is, of course, a good match. toward evening i paid my last visit to the acropolis. solitude, silence, and sunset are the nursery of sentiment. i sat down on a broken capital of the parthenon; the owl was already flitting among the ruins. i looked up at the majestic temple and down at the ruined and newly-regenerated city, and said to myself, "lots must rise in athens!" i traced the line of the ancient walls, ran a railroad to the piræus, and calculated the increase on "up-town lots" from building the king's palace near the garden of plato. shall i or shall i not "make an operation" in athens? the court has removed here, the country is beautiful, climate fine, government fixed, steamboats are running, all the world is coming, and lots must rise. i bought (in imagination) a tract of good tillable land, laid it out in streets, had my plato, and homer, and washington places, and jackson avenue, built a row of houses to improve the neighbourhood where nobody lived, got maps lithographed, and sold off at auction. i was in the right condition to "go in," for i had nothing to lose; but, unfortunately, the greeks were very far behind the spirit of the age, knew nothing of the beauties of the credit system, and could not be brought to dispose of their consecrated soil "on the usual terms," _ten per cent. down, balance on bond and mortgage_, so, giving up the idea, at dark i bade farewell to the ruins of the acropolis, and went to my hotel to dinner. early the next morning i started for the field of marathon. i engaged a servant at the hotel to accompany me, but he disappointed me, and i set out alone with my muleteer. our road lay along the base of mount hymettus, on the borders of the plain of attica, shaded by thick groves of olives. at noon i was on the summit of a lofty mountain, at the base of which, still and quiet as if it had never resounded with the shock of war, the great battle-ground of the greeks and persians extended to the sea. the descent was one of the finest things i met with in greece; wild, rugged, and, in fact, the most magnificent kind of mountain scenery. at the foot of the mountain we came to a ruined convent, occupied by an old white-bearded monk. i stopped there and lunched, the old man laying before me his simple store of bread and olives, and looking on with pleasure at my voracious appetite. [illustration: mound of marathon.] this over, i hurried to the battle-field. toward the centre is a large mound of earth, erected over the athenians who fell in the battle. i made directly for this mound, ascended it, and threw the reins loose over my horse's neck; and, sitting on the top, read the account of the battle in herodotus. after all, is not our reverence misplaced, or, rather does not our respect for deeds hallowed by time render us comparatively unjust? the greek revolution teems with instances of as desperate courage, as great love of country, as patriotic devotion, as animated the men of marathon, and yet the actors in these scenes are not known beyond the boundaries of their native land. thousands whose names were never heard of, and whose bones, perhaps, never received burial, were as worthy of an eternal monument as they upon whose grave i sat. still that mound is a hallowed sepulchre; and the shepherd who looks at it from his mountain home, the husbandman who drives his plough to its base, and the sailor who hails it as a landmark from the deck of his caique, are all reminded of the glory of their ancestors. but away with the mouldering relics of the past. give me the green grave of marco bozzaris. i put herodotus in my pocket, gathered a few blades of grass as a memorial, descended the mound, betook myself to my saddle, and swept the plain on a gallop, from the mountain to the sea. it is about two miles in width, and bounded by rocky heights enclosing it at either extremity. toward the shore the ground is marshy, and at the place where the persians escaped to their ships are some unknown ruins; in several places the field is cultivated, and toward evening, on my way to the village of marathon, i saw a greek ploughing; and when i told him that i was an american, he greeted me as the friend of greece. it is the last time i shall recur to this feeling; but it was music to my heart to hear a ploughman on immortal marathon sound in my ears the praises of my country. i intended to pass the night at the village of marathon; but every khan was so cluttered up with goats, chickens, and children, that i rode back to the monastery at the foot of the mountain. it was nearly dark when i reached it. the old monk was on a little eminence at the door of his chapel, clapping two boards together to call his flock to vespers. with his long white beard, his black cap and long black gown, his picturesque position and primitive occupation, he seemed a guardian spirit hovering on the borders of marathon in memory of its ancient glory. he came down to the monastery to receive me, and, giving me a paternal welcome, and spreading a mat on the floor, returned to his chapel. i followed, and saw his little flock assemble. the ploughman came up from the plain and the shepherd came down from the mountain; the old monk led the way to the altar, and all kneeled down and prostrated themselves on the rocky floor. i looked at them with deep interest. i had seen much of greek devotion in cities and villages, but it was a spectacle of extraordinary interest to see these wild and lawless men assembled on this lonely mountain to worship in all sincerity, according to the best light they had, the god of their fathers. i could not follow them in their long and repeated kneelings and prostrations; but my young greek, as if to make amends for me, and, at the same time, to show how they did things in athens, led the van. the service over, several of them descended with us to the monastery; the old monk spread his mat, and again brought out his frugal store of bread and olives. i contributed what i had brought from athens, and we made our evening meal. if i had judged from appearances, i should have felt rather uneasy at sleeping among such companions; but the simple fact of having seen them at their devotions gave me confidence. though i had read and heard that the italian bandit went to the altar to pray forgiveness for the crimes he intended to commit, and, before washing the stains from his hands, hung up the bloody poniard upon a pillar of the church, and asked pardon for murder, i always felt a certain degree of confidence in him who practised the duties of his religion, whatever that religion might be. i leaned on my elbow, and, by the blaze of the fire, read herodotus, while my muleteer, as i judged from the frequent repetition of the word americanos, entertained them with long stories about me. by degrees the blaze of the fire died away, the greeks stretched themselves out for sleep, the old monk handed me a bench about four inches high for a pillow, and, wrapping myself in my cloak, in a few moments i was wandering in the land of dreams. before daylight my companions were in motion. i intended to return by the marble quarries on the pentelican mountain; and crying "cavallo" in the ear of my still sleeping muleteer, in a few minutes i bade farewell for ever to the good old monk of marathon. almost from the door of the monastery we commenced ascending the mountain. it was just peep of day, the weather raw and cold, the top of the mountain covered with clouds, and in an hour i found myself in the midst of them. the road was so steep and dangerous that i could not ride; a false step of my horse might have thrown me over a precipice several hundred feet deep; and the air was so keen and penetrating, that, notwithstanding the violent exercise of walking, i was perfectly chilled. the mist was so dense, too, that, when my guide was a few paces in advance, i could not see him, and i was literally groping my way through the clouds. i had no idea where i was nor of the scene around me, but i felt that i was in a measure lifted above the earth. the cold blasts drove furiously along the sides of the mountain, whistled against the precipices, and bellowed in the hollows of the rocks, sometimes driving so furiously that my horse staggered and fell back. i was almost bewildered in struggling blindly against them; but, just before reaching the top of the mountain, the thick clouds were lifted as if by an invisible hand, and i saw once more the glorious sun pouring his morning beams upon a rich valley extending a great distance to the foot of the pentelican mountain. about half way down we came to a beautiful stream, on the banks of which we took out our bread and olives. our appetites were stimulated by the mountain air, and we divided till our last morsel was gone. at the foot of the mountain, lying between it and mount pentelicus, was a large monastery, occupied by a fraternity of monks. we entered and walked through it, but found no one to receive us. in a field near by we saw one of the monks, from whom we obtained a direction to the quarries. moving on to the foot of the mountain, which rises with a peaked summit into the clouds, we commenced ascending, and soon came upon the strata of beautiful white marble for which mount pentelicus has been celebrated thousands of years. excavations appear to have been made along the whole route, and on the roadside were blocks, and marks caused by the friction of the heavy masses transported to athens. the great quarries are toward the summit. the surface has been cut perpendicularly smooth, perhaps eighty or a hundred feet high, and one hundred and fifty or two hundred feet in width, and excavations have been made within to an unknown extent. whole cities might have been built with the materials taken away, and yet by comparison with what is left, there is nothing gone. in front are entrances to a large chamber, in one corner of which, on the right, is a chapel with the painted figure of the virgin to receive the greeks' prayers. within are vast humid caverns, over which the wide roof awfully extends, adorned with hollow tubes like icicles, while a small transparent petrifying stream trickles down the rock. on one side are small chambers communicating with subterraneous avenues, used, no doubt, as places of refuge during the revolution, or as the haunts of robbers. bones of animals and stones blackened with smoke showed that but lately some part had been occupied as a habitation. the great excavations around, blocks of marble lying as they fell, perhaps, two thousand years ago, and the appearances of having been once a scene of immense industry and labour, stand in striking contrast with the desolation and solitude now existing. probably the hammer and chisel will never be heard there more, great temples will no more be raised, and modern genius will never, like the greeks of old, make the rude blocks of marble speak. [illustration: quarries of pentelicus.] at dark i was dining at the hotel de france, when mr. hill came over with the welcome intelligence that my carpet-bag had arrived. on it was pinned a large paper, with the words "huzzah!" "huzzah!" "huzzah!" by my friend maxwell, who had met it on horse back on the shores of the gulf of lepanto, travelling under the charge of a greek in search of me. i opened it with apprehension, and, to my great satisfaction, found undisturbed the object of my greatest anxiety, the precious notebook from which i now write, saved from the peril of an anonymous publication or of being used up for gun-waddings. the next morning, before i was up, i heard a gentle rap at my door, which was followed by the entrance of a german, a missionary, whom i had met several times at mr. hill's, and who had dined with me once at my hotel. i apologized for being caught in bed, and told him that he must possess a troubled spirit to send him so early from his pillow. he answered that i was right; that he did indeed possess a troubled spirit; and closing the door carefully, came to my bedside, and said he had conceived a great regard for me, and intended confiding in me an important trust. i had several times held long conversations with him at mr. hill's, and very little to my edification, as his english was hardly intelligible; but i felt pleased at having, without particularly striving for it, gained the favourable opinion of one who bore the character of a very learned and a very good man. i requested him to step into the dining-room while i rose and dressed myself; but he put his hand upon my breast to keep me down, and drawing a chair, began, "you are going to smyrna." he then paused, but, after some moments of hesitation, proceeded to say that the first name i would hear on my arrival there would be his own; that, unfortunately, it was in everybody's mouth. my friend was a short and very ugly middle-aged man, with a very large mouth, speaking english with the most disagreeable german sputter, lame from a fall, and, altogether, of a most uninteresting and unsentimental aspect; and he surprised me much by laying before me a veritable _affaire du coeur_. it was so foreign to my expectations, that i should as soon have expected to be made a confidant in a love affair by the archbishop of york. after a few preliminaries he went into particulars; lavished upon the lady the usual quota of charms "in such case made and provided," but was uncertain, rambling, and discursive in regard to the position he held in her regard. at first i understood that it was merely the old story, a flirtation and a victim; then that they were very near being married, which i afterward understood to be only so near as this, that he was willing and she not; and, finally, it settled down into the every-day occurrence, the lady smiled, while the parents and a stout two-fisted brother frowned. i could but think, if such a homely expression may be introduced in describing these tender passages, that he had the boot on the wrong leg, and that the parents were much more likely than the daughter to favour such a suitor. however, on this point i held my peace. the precise business he wished to impose on me was, immediately on my arrival in smyrna to form the acquaintance of the lady and her family, and use all my exertions in his favour. i told him i was an entire stranger in smyrna, and could not possibly have any influence with the parties; but, being urged, promised him that, if i could interfere without intruding myself improperly, he should have the benefit of my mediation. at first he intended giving me a letter to the lady, but afterward determined to give me one to the rev. mr. brewer, an american missionary, who, he said, was a particular friend of his, and intimate with the beloved and her family, and acquainted with the whole affair. placing himself at my table, on which were pens, ink, and paper, he proceeded to write his letter, while i lay quietly till he turned over the first side, when, tired of waiting, i rose, dressed myself, packed up, and, before he had finished, stood by the table with my carpet-bag, waiting until he should have done to throw in my writing materials. he bade me good-by after i had mounted my horse to leave, and, when i turned back to look at him, i could not but feel for the crippled, limping victim of the tender passion, though, in honesty, and with the best wishes for his success, i did not think it would help his suit for the lady to see him. an account of my journey from athens to smyrna, given in a letter to friends at home, was published during my absence and without my knowledge, in successive numbers of the american monthly magazine, and perhaps the favourable notice taken of it had some influence in inducing me to write a book. i give the papers as they were then published. _smyrna, april_, 1835. my dear ****, i have just arrived at this place, and i live to tell it. i have been three weeks performing a voyage usually made in three days. it has been tedious beyond all things; but, as honest dogberry would say, if it had been ten times as tedious, i could find it in my heart to bestow it all upon you. to begin at the beginning: on the morning of the second instant, i and my long-lost carpet-bag left the eternal city of athens, without knowing exactly whither we were going, and sincerely regretted by miltiades panajotti, the garçon of the hotel. we wound round the foot of the acropolis, and, giving a last look to its ruined temples, fell into the road to the piræus, and in an hour found ourselves at that ancient harbour, almost as celebrated in the history of greece as athens itself. here we took counsel as to farther movements, and concluded to take passage in a caique to sail that evening for syra, being advised that that island was a great place of rendezvous for vessels, and that from it we could procure a passage to any place we chose. having disposed of my better half (i may truly call it so, for what is man without pantaloons, vests, and shirts), i took a little sailboat to float around the ancient harbour and muse upon its departed glories. the day that i lingered there before bidding farewell, perhaps for ever, to the shores of greece, is deeply impressed upon my mind. i had hardly begun to feel the magic influence of the land of poets, patriots, and heroes, until the very moment of my departure. i had travelled in the most interesting sections of the country, and found all enthusiasm dead within me when i had expected to be carried away by the remembrance of the past; but here, i know not how it was, without any effort, and in the mere act of whiling away my time, all that was great, and noble, and beautiful in her history rushed upon me at once; the sun and the breeze, the land and the sea, contributed to throw a witchery around me; and in a rich and delightful frame of mind, i found myself among the monuments of her better days, gliding by the remains of the immense wall erected to enclose the harbour during the peloponnesian war, and was soon floating upon the classic waters of salamis. if i had got there by accident it would not have occurred to me to dream of battles and all the fierce panoply of war upon that calm and silvery surface. but i knew where i was, and my blood was up. i was among the enduring witnesses of the athenian glory. behind me was the ancient city, the acropolis, with its ruined temples, the telltale monuments of by-gone days, towering above the plain; here was the harbour from which the galleys carried to the extreme parts of the then known world the glories of the athenian name; before me was unconquered salamis; here the invading fleet of xerxes; there the little navy, the last hope of the athenians; here the island of ægina, from which aristides, forgetting his quarrel with themistocles, embarked in a rude boat, during the hottest of the battle, for the ship of the latter; and there the throne of xerxes, where the proud invader stationed himself as spectator of the battle that was to lay the rich plain of attica at his feet. there could be no mistake about localities; the details have been handed down from generation to generation, and are as well known to the greeks of the present day as they were to their fathers. so i went to work systematically, and fought the whole battle through. i gave the persians ten to one, but i made the greeks fight like tigers; i pointed them to their city; to their wives and children; i brought on long strings of little innocents, urging them as in the farce, "sing out, young uns;" i carried old themistocles among the persians like a modern greek fireship among the turks; i sunk ship after ship, and went on demolishing them at a most furious rate, until i saw old xerxes scudding from his throne, and the remnant of the persian fleet scampering away to the tune of "devil take the hindmost." by this time i had got into the spirit of the thing; and moving rapidly over that water, once red with blood of thousands from the fields of asia, i steered for the shore and mounted the vacant throne of xerxes. this throne is on a hill near the shore, not very high, and as pretty a place as a man could have selected to see his friends whipped and keep out of harm's way himself; for you will recollect that in those days there was no gunpowder nor cannon balls, and, consequently, no danger from long chance shots. i selected a particular stone, which i thought it probable xerxes, as a reasonable man, and with an eye to perspective, might have chosen as his seat on the eventful day of the battle; and on that same stone sat down to meditate upon the vanity of all earthly greatness. but, most provokingly, whenever i think of xerxes, the first thing that presents itself to my mind is the couplet in the primer, "xerxes the great did die, and so must you and i." this is a very sensible stanza, no doubt, and worthy of always being borne in mind; but it was not exactly what i wanted. i tried to drive it away; but the more i tried, the more it stuck to me. it was all in vain. i railed at early education, and resolved that acquired knowledge hurts a man's natural faculties; for if i had not received the first rudiments of education, i should not have been bothered with the vile couplet, and should have been able to do something on my own account. as it was, i lost one of the best opportunities ever a man had for moralizing; and you, my dear ----, have lost at least three pages. i give you, however, all the materials; put yourself on the throne of xerxes, and do what you can, and may your early studies be no stumbling-block in your way. as for me, vexed and disgusted with myself, i descended the hill as fast as the great king did of yore, and jumping into my boat, steered for the farthest point of the piræus; from the throne of _xerxes_ to the tomb of themistocles. i was prepared to do something here. this was not merely a place where he had been; i was to tread upon the earth that covered his bones; here were his ashes; here was all that remained of the best and bravest of the greeks, save his immortal name. as i approached i saw the large square stones that enclosed his grave, and mused upon his history; the deliverer of his country, banished, dying an exile, his bones begged by his repenting countrymen, and buried with peculiar propriety near the shore of the sea commanding a full view of the scene of his naval glory. for more than two thousand years the waves have almost washed over his grave, the sun has shone and the winds have howled over him; while, perhaps, his spirit has mingled with the sighing of the winds and the murmur of the waters, in moaning over the long captivity of his countrymen; perhaps, too, his spirit has been with them in their late struggle for liberty; has hovered over them in the battle and the breeze, and is now standing sentinel over his beloved and liberated country. i approached as to the grave of one who will never die. his great name, his great deeds, hallowed by the lapse of so many ages; the scene--i looked over the wall with a feeling amounting to reverence, when, directly before me, the first thing i saw, the only thing i could see, so glaring and conspicuous that nothing else could fix my eye, was a tall, stiff, wooden headboard, painted white, with black letters, to the memory of an englishman with as unclassical a name as that of _john johnson_. my eyes were blasted with the sight; i was ferocious; i railed at him as if he had buried himself there with his own hands. what had he to do there? i railed at his friends. did they expect to give him a name by mingling him with the ashes of the immortal dead? did they expect to steal immortality like fire from the flint? i dashed back to my boat, steered directly for the harbour, gave sentiment to the dogs, and in half an hour was eating a most voracious and spiteful dinner. in the evening i embarked on board my little caique. she was one of the most rakish of that rakish description of vessels. i drew my cloak around me and stretched myself on the deck as we glided quietly out of the harbour; saw the throne of xerxes, the island of salamis, and the shores of greece gradually fade from view; looked at the dusky forms of the greeks in their capotes lying asleep around me; at the helmsman sitting cross-legged at his post, apparently without life or motion; gave one thought to home, and fell asleep. in the morning i began to examine my companions. they were, in all, a captain and six sailors, probably all part owners, and two passengers from one of the islands, not one of whom could speak any other language than greek. my knowledge of that language was confined to a few rolling hexameters, which had stuck by me in some unaccountable way as a sort of memento of college days. these, however, were of no particular use, and, consequently, i was pretty much tongue-tied during the whole voyage. i amused myself by making my observations quietly upon my companions, as they did more openly upon me, for i frequently heard the word "americanos" pass among them. i had before had occasion to see something of greek sailors, and to admire their skill and general good conduct, and i was fortified in my previous opinion by what i saw of my present companions. their temperance in eating and drinking is very remarkable, and all my comparisons between them and european sailors were very much in their favour. indeed, i could not help thinking, as they sat collectively, turkish fashion, around their frugal meal of bread, caviari, and black olives, that i had never seen finer men. their features were regular, in that style which we to this day recognise as grecian; their figures good, and their faces wore an air of marked character and intelligence; and these advantages of person were set off by the island costume, the fez or red cloth cap, with a long black tassel at the top, a tight vest and jacket, embroidered and without collars, large turkish trousers coming down a little below the knee, legs bare, sharp-pointed slippers, and a sash around the waist, tied under the left side, with long ends hanging down, and a knife sticking out about six inches. there was something bold and daring in their appearance; indeed, i may say, rakish and piratical; and i could easily imagine that, if the mediterranean should again become infested with pirates, my friends would cut no contemptible figure among them. but i must not detain you as long on the voyage as i was myself. the sea was calm; we had hardly any wind; our men were at the oars nearly all the time, and, passing slowly by ægina, cape sunium, with its magnificent ruins mournfully overlooking the sea, better known in modern times as colonna's height and the scene of falconer's shipwreck, passing also the island of zea, the ancient chios, thermia, and other islands of lesser note, in the afternoon of the third day we arrived at syra. with regard to syra i shall say but little; i am as loath to linger about it now as i was to stay there then. the fact is, i cannot think of the place with any degree of satisfaction. the evening of my arrival i heard, through a greek merchant to whom i had a letter from a friend in athens, of a brig to sail the next day for smyrna; and i lay down on a miserable bed in a miserable locanda, in the confident expectation of resuming my journey in the morning. before morning, however, i was roused by "blustering boreas" rushing through the broken casement of my window; and for more than a week all the winds ever celebrated in the poetical history of greece were let loose upon the island. we were completely cut off from all communication with the rest of the world. not a vessel could leave the port, while vessel after vessel put in there for shelter. i do not mean to go into any details; indeed, for my own credit's sake i dare not; for if i were to draw a true picture of things as i found them; if i were to write home the truth, i should be considered as utterly destitute of taste and sentiment; i should be looked upon as a most unpoetical dog, who ought to have been at home poring over the revised statutes instead of breathing the pure air of poetry and song. and now, if i were writing what might by chance come under the eyes of a sentimental young lady or a young gentleman in his teens, the truth would be the last thing i would think of telling. no, though my teeth chatter, though a cold sweat comes over me when i think of it, i would go through the usual rhapsody, and huzzah for "the land of the east and the clime of the sun." indeed, i have a scrap in my portfolio, written with my cloak and greatcoat on, and my feet over a brazier, beginning in that way. but to you, my dear ----, who know my touching sensibilities, and who, moreover, have a tender regard for my character and will not publish me, i would as soon tell the truth as not. and i therefore do not hesitate to say, but do not whisper it elsewhere, that in one of the beautiful islands of the ægean; in the heart of the cyclades, in the sight of delos, and paros, and antiparos, any one of which is enough to throw one who has never seen them into raptures with their fancied beauties, here, in this paradise of a young man's dreams, in the middle of april, i would have hailed "chill november's surly blast" as a zephyr; i would have exchanged all the beauties of this balmy clime for the sunny side of kamschatka; i would have given my room and the whole island of syra for a third-rate lodging in communipaw. it was utterly impossible to walk out, and equally impossible to stay in my room; the house, to suit that delightful climate, being built without windows or window-shutters. if i could forget the island, i could remember with pleasure the society i met there. i passed my mornings in the library of mr. r., one of our worthy american missionaries; and my evenings at the house of mr. w., the british consul. this gentleman married a greek lady of smyrna, and had three beautiful daughters, more than half greeks in their habits and feelings; one of them is married to an english baronet, another to a greek merchant of syra, and the third--. on the ninth day the wind fell, the sun once more shone brightly, and in the evening i embarked on board a rickety brig for smyrna. at about six o'clock p.m. thirty or forty vessels were quietly crawling out of the harbour like rats after a storm. it was almost a calm when we started: in about two hours we had a favourable breeze; we turned in, going at the rate of eight miles an hour, and rose with a strong wind dead ahead. we beat about all that day; the wind increased to a gale, and toward evening we took shelter in the harbour of scio. the history of this beautiful little island forms one of the bloodiest pages in the history of the world, and one glance told that dreadful history. once the most beautiful island of the archipelago, it is now a mass of ruins. its fields, which once "budded and blossomed as the rose," have become waste places; its villages are deserted, its towns are in ruins, its inhabitants murdered, in captivity, and in exile. before the greek revolution the greeks of scio were engaged in extensive commerce, and ranked among the largest merchants in the levant. though living under hard taskmasters, subject to the exactions of a rapacious pacha, their industry and enterprise, and the extraordinary fertility of their island, enabled them to pay a heavy tribute to the turks and to become rich themselves. for many years they had enjoyed the advantages of a college, with professors of high literary and scientific attainments, and their library was celebrated throughout all that country; it was, perhaps, the only spot in greece where taste and learning still held a seat. but the island was far more famed for its extraordinary natural beauty and fertility. its bold mountains and its soft valleys, the mildness of its climate and the richness of its productions, bound the greeks to its soil by a tie even stronger than the chain of their turkish masters. in the early part of the revolution the sciotes took no part with their countrymen in their glorious struggle for liberty. forty of their principal citizens were given up as hostages, and they were suffered to remain in peace. wrapped in the rich beauties of their island, they forgot the freedom of their fathers and their own chains; and, under the precarious tenure of a tyrant's will, gave themselves up to the full enjoyment of all that wealth and taste could purchase. we must not be too hard upon human nature; the cause seemed desperate; they had a little paradise at stake; and if there is a spot on earth, the risk of losing which could excuse men in forgetting that they were slaves in a land where their fathers were free, it is the island of scio. but the sword hung suspended over them by a single hair. in an unexpected hour, without the least note of preparation, they were startled by the thunder of the turkish cannon; fifty thousand turks were let loose like bloodhounds upon the devoted island. the affrighted greeks lay unarmed and helpless at their feet, but they lay at the feet of men who did not know mercy even by name; at the feet of men who hungered and thirsted after blood; of men, in comparison with whom wild beasts are as lambs. the wildest beast of the forest may become gorged with blood; not so with the turks at scio. their appetite "grew with what it fed on," and still longed for blood when there was not a victim left to bleed. women were ripped open, children dashed against the walls, the heads of whole families stuck on pikes out of the windows of their houses, while their murderers gave themselves up to riot and plunder within. the forty hostages were hung in a row from the walls of the castle; an indiscriminate and universal burning and massacre took place; in a few days the ground was cumbered with the dead, and one of the loveliest spots on earth was a pile of smoking ruins. out of a population of one hundred and ten thousand, sixty thousand are supposed to have been murdered, twenty thousand to have escaped, and thirty thousand to have been sold into slavery. boys and young girls were sold publicly in the streets of smyrna and constantinople at a dollar a head. and all this did not arise from any irritated state of feeling toward them. it originated in the cold-blooded, calculating policy of the sultan, conceived in the same spirit which drenched the streets of constantinople with the blood of the janisaries; it was intended to strike terror into the hearts of the greeks, but the murderer failed in his aim. the groans of the hapless sciotes reached the ears of their countrymen, and gave a headlong and irresistible impulse to the spirit then struggling to be free. and this bloody tragedy was performed in our own days, and in the face of the civilized world. surely if ever heaven visits in judgment a nation for a nation's crimes, the burning and massacre at scio will be deeply visited upon the accursed turks. it was late in the afternoon when i landed, and my landing was under peculiarly interesting circumstances. one of my fellow-passengers was a native of the island, who had escaped during the massacre, and now revisited it for the first time. he asked me to accompany him ashore, promising to find some friends at whose house we might sleep; but he soon found himself a stranger in his native island: where he had once known everybody, he now knew nobody. the town was a complete mass of ruins; the walls of many fine buildings were still standing, crumbling to pieces, and still black with the fire of the incendiary turks. the town that had grown up upon the ruins consisted of a row of miserable shantees, occupied as shops for the sale of the mere necessaries of life, where the shopman slept on his window-shutter in front. all my companion's efforts to find an acquaintance who would give us a night's lodging were fruitless. we were determined not to go on board the vessel, if possible to avoid it; her last cargo had been oil, the odour of which still remained about her. the weather would not permit us to sleep on deck, and the cabin was intolerably disagreeable. to add to our unpleasant position, and, at the same time, to heighten the cheerlessness of the scene around us, the rain began to fall violently. under the guidance of a greek we searched among the ruins for an apartment where we might build a fire and shelter ourselves for the night, but we searched in vain; the work of destruction was too complete. cold, and thoroughly drenched with rain, we were retracing our way to our boat, when our guide told my companion that a greek archbishop had lately taken up his abode among the ruins. we immediately went there, and found him occupying apartments, partially repaired, in what had once been one of the finest houses in scio. the entrance through a large stone gateway was imposing; the house was cracked from top to bottom by fire, nearly one half had fallen down, and the stones lay scattered as they fell; but enough remained to show that in its better days it had been almost a palace. we ascended a flight of stone steps to a terrace, from which we entered into a large hall perhaps thirty feet wide and fifty feet long. on one side of this hall the wall had fallen down the whole length, and we looked out upon the mass of ruins beneath. on the other side, in a small room in one corner, we found the archbishop. he was sick, and in bed with all his clothes on, according to the universal custom here, but received us kindly. the furniture consisted of an iron bedstead with a mattress, on which he lay with a quilt spread over him, a wooden sofa, three wooden chairs, about twenty books, and two large leather cases containing clothes, napkins, and, probably, all his worldly goods. the rain came through the ceiling in several places; the bed of the poor archbishop had evidently been moved from time to time to avoid it, and i was obliged to change my position twice. an air of cheerless poverty reigned through the apartment. i could not help comparing his lot with that of more favoured and, perhaps, not more worthy servants of the church. it was a style so different from that of the priests at rome, the pope and his cardinals, with their gaudy equipages and multitudes of footmen rattling to the vatican; or from the pomp and state of the haughty english prelates, or even from the comforts of our own missionaries in different parts of this country, that i could not help feeling deeply for the poor priest before me. but he seemed contented and cheerful, and even thankful that, for the moment, there were others worse off than himself, and that he had it in his power to befriend them. sweetmeats, coffee, and pipes were served; and in about an hour we were conducted to supper in a large room, also opening from the hall. our supper would not have tempted an epicure, but suited very well an appetite whetted by exercise and travel. it consisted of a huge lump of bread and a large glass of water for each of us, caviari, black olives, and two kinds of turkish sweetmeats. we were waited upon by two priests: one of them, a handsome young man, not more than twenty, with long black hair hanging over his shoulders like a girl's, stood by with a napkin on his arm and a pewter vessel, with which he poured water on our hands, receiving it again in a basin. this was done both before and after eating; then came coffee and pipes. during the evening the young priest brought out an edition of homer, and i surprised _him_, and astounded _myself_, by being able to translate a passage in the iliad. i translated it in french, and my companion explained it in modern greek to the young priest. our beds were cushions laid on a raised platform or divan extending around the walls, with a quilt for each of us. in the morning, after sweetmeats, coffee, and pipes, we paid our respects to the good old archbishop, and took our leave. when we got out of doors, finding that the wind was the same, and that there was no possibility of sailing, my friend proposed a ride into the country. we procured a couple of mules, took a small basket of provisions for a collation, and started. our road lay directly along the shore; on one side the sea, and on the other the ruins of houses and gardens, almost washed by the waves. at about three miles' distance we crossed a little stream, by the side of which we saw a sarcophagus, lately disinterred, containing the usual vases of a grecian tomb, including the piece of money to pay charon his ferriage over the river styx, and six pounds of dust; being all that remained of a _man_--perhaps one who had filled a large space in the world; perhaps a hero--buried probably more than two thousand years ago. after a ride of about five miles we came to the ruins of a large village, the style of which would anywhere have fixed the attention, as having been once a favoured abode of wealth and taste. the houses were of brown stone, built together, strictly in the venetian style, after the models left during the occupation of the island by the venetians, large and elegant, with gardens of three or four acres, enclosed by high walls of the same kind of stone, and altogether in a style far superior to anything i had seen in greece. these were the country-houses and gardens of the rich merchants of scio. the manner of living among the proprietors here was somewhat peculiar, and the ties that bound them to this little village were peculiarly strong. this was the family home; the community was essentially mercantile, and most of their business transactions were carried on elsewhere. when there were three or four brothers in a family, one would be in constantinople a couple of years, another at trieste, and so on, while another remained at home; so that those who were away, while toiling amid the perplexities of business, were always looking to the occasional family reunion; and all trusted to spend the evening of their days among the beautiful gardens of scio. what a scene for the heart to turn to now! the houses and gardens were still there, some standing almost entire, others black with smoke and crumbling to ruins. but where were they who once occupied them? where were they who should now be coming out to rejoice in the return of a friend and to welcome a stranger? an awful solitude, a stillness that struck a cold upon the heart, reigned around us. we saw nobody; and our own voices, and the tramping of our horses upon the deserted pavements, sounded hollow and sepulchral in our ears. it was like walking among the ruins of pompeii; it was another city of the dead; but there was a freshness about the desolation that seemed of to-day; it seemed as though the inhabitants should be sleeping and not dead. indeed, the high walls of the gardens, and the outside of the houses too, were generally so fresh and in so perfect a state, that it seemed like riding through a handsome village at an early hour before the inhabitants had risen; and i sometimes could not help thinking that in an hour or two the streets would be thronged with a busy population. my friend continued to conduct me through the solitary streets; telling me, as we went along, that this was the house of such a family, this of such a family, with some of whose members i had become acquainted in greece, until, stopping before a large stone gateway, he dismounted at the gate of his father's house. in that house he was born; there he had spent his youth; he had escaped from it during the dreadful massacre, and this was the first time of his revisiting it. what a tide of recollections must have rushed upon him! we entered through the large stone gateway into a courtyard beautifully paved in mosaic in the form of a star, with small black and white round stones. on our left was a large stone reservoir, perhaps twenty-five feet square, still so perfect as to hold water, with an arbour over it supported by marble columns; a venerable grapevine completely covered the arbour. the garden covered an extent of about four acres, filled with orange, lemon, almond, and fig trees; overrun with weeds, roses, and flowers, growing together in wild confusion. on the right was the house, and a melancholy spectacle it was; the wall had fallen down on one side, and the whole was black with smoke. we ascended a flight of stone steps, with marble balustrades, to the terrace, a platform about twenty feet square, overlooking the garden. from the terrace we entered the saloon, a large room with high ceilings and fresco paintings on the walls; the marks of the fire kindled on the stone floor still visible, all the woodwork burned to a cinder, and the whole black with smoke. it was a perfect picture of wanton destruction. the day, too, was in conformity with the scene; the sun was obscured, the wind blew through the ruined building, it rained, was cold and cheerless. what were the feelings of my friend i cannot imagine; the houses of three of his uncles were immediately adjoining; one of these uncles was one of the forty hostages, and was hanged; the other two were murdered; his father, a venerable-looking old man, who came down to the vessel when we started to see him off, had escaped to the mountains, from thence in a caique to ipsara, and from thence into italy. i repeat it, i cannot imagine what were his feelings; he spoke but little; they must have been too deep for utterance. i looked at everything with intense interest; i wanted to ask question after question, but could not, in mercy, probe his bleeding wounds. we left the house and walked out into the garden. it showed that there was no master's eye to watch over it; i plucked an orange which had lost its flavour; the tree was withering from want of care; our feet became entangled among weeds, and roses, and rare hothouse plants growing wildly together. i said that he did not talk much; but the little he did say amounted to volumes. passing a large vase in which a beautiful plant was running wildly over the sides, he murmured indistinctly "the same vase" (le même vase), and once he stopped opposite a tree, and, turning to me, said, "this is the only tree i do not remember." these and other little incidental remarks showed how deeply all the particulars were engraved upon his mind, and told me, plainer than words, that the wreck and ruin he saw around him harrowed his very soul. indeed, how could it be otherwise? this was his father's house, the home of his youth, the scene of his earliest, dearest, and fondest recollections. busy memory, that source of all our greatest pains as well as greatest pleasures, must have pressed sorely upon him, must have painted the ruined and desolate scene around him in colours even brighter, far brighter, than they ever existed in; it must have called up the faces of well-known and well-loved friends; indeed, he must have asked himself, in bitterness and in anguish of spirit, "the friends of my youth where are they?" while the fatal answer fell upon his heart, "gone murdered, in captivity and in exile." chapter viii. a noble grecian lady.--beauty of scio.--an original.--foggi.--a turkish coffee-house.--mussulman at prayers.--easter sunday.--a greek priest.--a tartar guide.--turkish ladies.--camel scenes.--sight of a harem.--disappointed hopes.--a rare concert.--arrival at smyrna. (_continuation of the letter._) we returned to the house, and seeking out a room less ruined than the rest, partook of a slight collation, and set out on a visit to a relative of my sciote friend. on our way my companion pointed out a convent on the side of a hill, where six thousand greeks, who had been prevailed upon to come down from the mountains to ransom themselves, were treacherously murdered to a man; their unburied bones still whiten the ground within the walls of the convent. arriving at the house of his relative, we entered through a large gateway into a handsome courtyard, with reservoir, garden, &c., ruinous, though in better condition than those we had seen before. this relative was a widow, of the noble house of mavrocordato, one of the first families in greece, and perhaps the most distinguished name in the greek revolution. she had availed herself of the sultan's amnesty to return; had repaired two or three rooms, and sat down to end her days among the scenes of her childhood, among the ruins of her father's house. she was now not more than thirty; her countenance was remarkably pensive, and she had seen enough to drive a smile for ever from her face. the meeting between her and my friend was exceedingly affecting, particularly on her part. she wept bitterly, though, with the elasticity peculiar to the greek character, the smile soon chased away the tear. she invited us to spend the night there, pointing to the divan, and promising us cushions and coverlets. we accepted her invitation, and again set forth to ramble among the ruins. i had heard that an american missionary had lately come into the island, and was living somewhere in the neighbourhood. i found out his abode, and went to see him. he was a young man from virginia, by the name of ****; had married a lady from connecticut, who was unfortunately sick in bed. he was living in one room in the corner of a ruined building, but was then engaged in repairing a house into which he expected to remove soon. as an american, the first whom they had seen in that distant island, they invited me into the sickroom. in a strange land, and among a people whose language they did not understand, they seemed to be all in all to each other; and i left them, probably for ever, in the earnest hope that the wife might soon be restored to health, that hand in hand they might sustain each other in the rough path before them. toward evening we returned to the house of my friend's relative. we found there a nephew, a young man about twenty-two, and a cousin, a man about thirty-five, both accidentally on a visit to the island. as i looked at the little party before me, sitting around a brazier of charcoal, and talking earnestly in greek, i could hardly persuade myself that what i had seen and heard that day was real. all that i had ever read in history of the ferocity of the turkish character; all the wild stories of corsairs, of murdering, capturing, and carrying into captivity, that i had ever read in romances, crowded upon me, and i saw living witnesses that the bloodiest records of history and the wildest creations of romance were not overcharged. they could all testify in their own persons that these things were true. they had all been stripped of their property, and had their houses burned over their heads; had all narrowly escaped being murdered; and had all suffered in their nearest and dearest connexions. the nephew, then a boy nine years old, had been saved by a maidservant, his father had been murdered; a brother, a sister, and many of his cousins, were at that moment, and had been for years, in slavery among the turks; my friend, with his sister, had found refuge in the house of the austrian consul, and from thence had escaped into italy; the cousin was the son of one of the forty hostages who were hung, and was the only member of his father's family that escaped death; while our pensive and amiable hostess, a bride of seventeen, had seen her young husband murdered before her eyes; had herself been sold into slavery, and, after two years' servitude, redeemed by her friends. in the morning i rose early and walked out upon the terrace. nature had put on a different garb. the wind had fallen, and the sun was shining warmly upon a scene of softness and luxuriance surpassing all that i had ever heard or dreamed of the beauty of the islands of greece. away with all that i said about syra; skip the page. the terrace overlooked the garden filled with orange, lemon, almond, and fig trees; with plants, roses, and flowers of every description, growing in luxuriant wildness. but the view was not confined to the garden. looking back to the harbour of scio, was a bold range of rugged mountains bounding the view on that side; on the right was the sea, then calm as a lake; on both the other sides were ranges of mountains, irregular and picturesque in their appearance, verdant and blooming to their very summits; and within these limits, for an extent of perhaps five miles, were continued gardens like that at my feet, filled with the choicest fruit-trees, with roses and the greatest variety of rare plants and flowers that ever unfolded their beauties before the eyes of man; above all, the orange-trees, the peculiar favourite of the island, then almost in full bloom, covered with blossoms, from my elevated position on the terrace made the whole valley appear an immense bed of flowers. all, too, felt the freshening influence of the rain; and a gentle breeze brought to me from this wilderness of sweets the most delicious perfume that ever greeted the senses. do not think me extravagant when i say that, in your wildest dreams, you could never fancy so rich and beautiful a scene. even among ruins, that almost made the heart break, i could hardly tear my eyes from it. it is one of the loveliest spots on earth. it is emphatically a paradise lost, for the hand of the turks is upon it; a hand that withers all that it touches. in vain does the sultan invite the survivers, and the children made orphans by his bloody massacre, to return; in vain do the fruits and the flowers, the sun and the soil, invite them to return; their wounds are still bleeding; they cannot forget that the wild beast's paw might again be upon them, and that their own blood might one day moisten the flowers which grow over the graves of their fathers. but i must leave this place. i could hardly tear myself away then, and i love to linger about it now. while i was enjoying the luxury of the terrace a messenger came from the captain to call us on board. with a feeling of the deepest interest i bade farewell, probably for ever, to my sorrowing hostess and to the beautiful gardens of scio. we mounted our mules, and in an hour were at the port. my feelings were so wrought upon that i felt my blood boil at the first turk i met in the streets. i felt that i should like to sacrifice him to the shades of the murdered greeks. i wondered that the greeks did not kill every one on the island. i wondered that they could endure the sight of the turban. we found that the captain had hurried us away unnecessarily. we could not get out of the harbour, and were obliged to lounge about the town all day. we again made a circuit among the ruins; examined particularly those of the library, where we found an old woman who had once been an attendant there, living in a little room in the cellar, completely buried under the stones of the fallen building; and returning, sat down with a chibouk before the door of an old turkish coffee-house fronting the harbour. here i met an original in the person of the dutch consul. he was an old italian, and had been in america during the revolutionary war as _dragoman_, as he called it, to the count de grasse, though, from his afterward incidentally speaking of the count as "my master," i am inclined to think that the word dragoman, which here means a person of great character and trust, may be interpreted as "valet de chambre." the old consul was in scio during the whole of the massacre, and gave me many interesting particulars respecting it. he hates the greeks, and spoke with great indignation about the manner in which their dead bodies lay strewed about the streets for months after the massacre. "d--n them," he said, "he could not go anywhere without stumbling over them." as i began to have some apprehensions about being obliged to stay here another night, i thought i could not employ my time better than in trying to work out of the consul an invitation to spend it with him. but the old fellow was too much for me. when i began to talk about the unpleasantness of being obliged to spend the night on board, and the impossibility of spending it on shore, _having no acquaintance_ there, he began to talk poverty in the most up and down terms. i was a little discouraged, but i looked at his military coat, his cocked hat and cane, and considering his talk merely a sort of apology for the inferior style of housekeeping i would find, was ingeniously working things to a point, when he sent me to the right about by enumerating the little instances of kindness he had received from strangers who happened to visit the island; among others, from one--he had his name in his pocketbook; he should never forget him; perhaps i had heard of him--who, at parting, shook him affectionately by the hand, and gave him a doubloon and a spanish dollar. i hauled off from the representative of the majesty of holland, and perhaps, before this, have been served up to some new visitor as the "mean, stingy american." in the evening we again got under weigh; before morning the wind was again blowing dead ahead; and about midday we put into the harbour of foggi, a port in asia minor, and came to anchor under the walls of the castle, under the blood-red mussulman flag. we immediately got into the boat to go ashore. this was my first port in turkey. a huge ugly african, marked with the smallpox, with two pistols and a yataghan in his belt, stood on a little dock, waited till we were in the act of landing, and then rushed forward, ferocious as a tiger from his native sands, throwing up both his hands, and roaring out "quarantino." this was a new thing in turkey. heretofore the turks, with their fatalist notions, had never taken any precautions against the plague; but they had become frightened by the terrible ravages the disease was then making in egypt, and imposed a quarantine upon vessels coming from thence. we were, however, suffered to land, and our first movement was to the coffee-house directly in front of the dock. the coffee-house was a low wooden building, covering considerable ground, with a large piazza, or, rather, projecting roof all around it. inside and out there was a raised platform against the wall. this platform was one step from the floor, and on this step every one left his shoes before taking his seat on the matting. there were, perhaps, fifty turks inside and out; sitting cross-legged, smoking the chibouk, and drinking coffee out of cups not larger than the shell of a madeira-nut. we kicked our shoes off on the steps, seated ourselves on a mat outside, and took our chibouk and coffee with an air of savoir faire that would not have disgraced the worthiest moslem of them all. verily, said i, as i looked at the dozing, smoking, coffee-sipping congregation around me, there are some good points about the turks, after all. they never think--that hurts digestion; and they love chibouks and coffee--that shows taste and feeling. i fell into their humour, and for a while exchanged nods with my neighbours all around. suddenly the bitterness of thought came upon me; i found that my pipe was exhausted. i replenished it, and took a sip of coffee. verily, said i, there are few better things in this world than chibouks and coffee; they even make men forget there is blood upon their hands. the thought started me; i shrank from contact with my neighbours, cut my way through the volumes of smoke, and got out into the open air. my companion joined me. we entered the walls and made a circuit of the town. it was a dirty little place, having one principal street lined with shops or bazars; every third shop, almost, being a cafteria, where a parcel of huge turbaned fellows were at their daily labours of smoking pipes and drinking coffee. the first thing i remarked as being strikingly different from a european city was the total absence of women. the streets were thronged with men, and not a woman was to be seen, except occasionally i caught a glimpse of a white veil or a pair of black eyes sparkling through the latticed bars of a window. afterward, however, in walking outside the walls into the country, we met a large party of women. when we first saw them they had their faces uncovered; but, as soon as they saw us coming toward them, they stopped and arranged their long white shawls, winding them around their faces so as to leave barely space enough uncovered to allow them to see and breathe, but so that it was utterly impossible for us to distinguish a single one of their features. going on in the direction from which they came, and attracted by the mourning cypress, we came to a large burying-ground. it is situated on the side of a hill almost washed by the waves, and shaded by a thick grove of the funereal tree. there is, indeed, something peculiarly touching in the appearance of this tree; it seems to be endowed with feelings, and to mourn over the dead it shades. the monuments were generally a single upright slab of marble, with a turban on the top. there were many, too, in form like one of our oblong tombstones; and, instead of a slab of marble over the top, the interior was filled with earth, and the surface overrun with roses, evergreens, and flowers. the burying-grounds in the east are always favourite places for walking in; and it is a favourite occupation of the turkish women to watch and water the flowers growing over the graves of their friends. toward evening we returned to the harbour. i withdrew from my companion, and, leaning against one of the gates of the city, fixed my eyes upon the door of a minaret, watching till the muezzin should appear, and, for the last time before the setting of the sun, call all good mussulmans to prayer. the door opens toward mecca, and a little before dark the muezzin came out, and, leaning over the railing with his face toward the tomb of the prophet, in a voice, every tone of which fell distinctly upon my ear, made that solemn call which, from the time of mohammed, has been addressed five times a day from the tops of the minarets to the sons of the faithful. "allah! allah! god is god, and mohammed is his prophet. to prayer! to prayer!" immediately an old turk by my side fell upon his knees, with his face to the tomb of the prophet; ten times, in quick succession, he bowed his forehead till it touched the earth; then clasped his hands and prayed. i never saw more rapt devotion than in this pious old mussulman. i have often marked in italy the severe observance of religious ceremonies; i have seen, for instance, at rome, fifty penitents at a time mounting on their knees, and kissing, as they mounted, the steps of the scala santa, or holy staircase, by which, as the priests tell them, our saviour ascended into the presence of pontius pilate. i have seen the greek prostrate himself before a picture until he was physically exhausted; and i have seen the humble and pious christian at his prayers, beneath the simple fanes and before the peaceful altars of my own land; but i never saw that perfect abandonment with which a turk gives himself up to his god in prayer. he is perfectly abstracted from the things of this world; he does not regard time or place; in his closet or in the street, alone or in a crowd, he sees nothing, he hears nothing; the world is a blank; his god is everything. he is lost in the intensity of his devotion. it is a spectacle almost sublime, and for the moment you forget the polluted fountain of his religion, and the thousand crimes it sanctions, in your admiration of his sincerity and faith. not being able to find any place where we could sleep ashore, except on one of the mats of the coffee-house, head and heels with a dozen turks, we went on board, and toward morning again got under weigh. we beat up to the mouth of the gulf of smyrna, but, with the sirocco blowing directly in our teeth, it was impossible to go farther. we made two or three attempts to enter, but in tacking the last time our old brig, which had hardly ballast enough to keep her keel under water, received such a rough shaking that we got her away before the wind, and at three o'clock p.m. were again anchored in the harbour of foggi. i now began to think that there was a spell upon my movements, and that smyrna, which was becoming to me a sort of land of promise, would never greet my longing eyes. i was somewhat comforted, however, by remembering that i had never yet reached any port in the mediterranean for which i had sailed, without touching at one or two intermediate ports; and that, so far, i had always worked right at last. i was still farther comforted by our having the good fortune to be able to procure lodging ashore, at the house of a greek, the son of a priest. it was the saturday before easter sunday, and the resurrection of our saviour was to be celebrated at midnight, or, rather, the beginning of the next day, according to the rites and ceremonies of the greek church. it was also the last of the forty days' fasting, and the next day commenced feasting. supper was prepared for us, at which meat was put on the table for me only; my greek friend being supposed not to eat meat during the days of fasting. he had been, however, two years out of greece; and though he did not like to offend the prejudices of his countrymen, he did not like fasting. i felt for my fellow-traveller; and, cutting up some meat in small parcels, kept my eye upon the door while he whipped them into his mouth. after supper we lay down upon the divan, with large quilts over us, my friend having promised to rise at twelve o'clock and accompany me to the greek church. at midnight we were roused by the chant of the greeks in the streets, on their way to the church. we turned out, and fell into a procession of five hundred people, making the streets as light as day with their torches. at the door of the church we found our host, sitting at a table with a parcel of wax tapers on one side and a box to receive money on the other. we each bought a taper and went in. after remaining there at least two hours, listening to a monotonous and unintelligible routine of prayers and chants, the priests came out of the holy doors, bearing aloft an image of our saviour on the cross, ornamented with gold leaf, tassels, and festoons of artificial flowers; passed through the church, and out of the opposite door. the greeks lighted their tapers and formed into a procession behind them, and we did the same. immediately outside the door, up the staircase, and on each side of the corridor, allowing merely room enough for the procession to pass, were arranged the women, dressed in white, with long white veils, thrown back from their faces however, laid smooth over the tops of their heads, and hanging down to their feet. nearly every woman, old or young, had a child in her arms. in fact, there seemed to be as great a mustering of children as of men and women, and, for aught that i could see, as much to the edification of the former as the latter. a continued chant was kept up during the movements of the procession, and perhaps for half an hour after the arrival of the priests at the courtyard, when it rose to a tremendous burst. the torches were waved in the air; a wild, unmeaning, and discordant scream or yell rang through the hollow cloisters, and half a dozen pistols, two or three muskets, and twenty or thirty crackers were fired. this was intended as a feu-de-joie, and was supposed to mark the precise moment of our saviour's resurrection. in a few moments the phrensy seemed to pass away; the noise fell from a wild clamour to a slow chant, and the procession returned to the church. the scene was striking, particularly the part outside the church; the dead of night; the waving of torches; the women with their long white dresses, and the children in their arms, &c.; but, from beginning to end, there was nothing solemn in it. returned to the church, a priest came round with a picture of the saviour risen; and, as far as i could make it out, holding in his hand the greek flag, followed by another priest with a plate to receive contributions. he held out the picture to be kissed, then turned his hand to receive the same act of devotion, keeping his eye all the time upon the plate which followed to receive the offerings of the pious, as a sort of payment for the privilege of the kiss. his manner reminded me of the dutch parson, who, immediately after pronouncing a couple man and wife, touching the bridegroom with his elbow, said, "and now where ish mine dollar?" i kissed the picture, dodged his knuckles, paid my money, and left the church. i had been there four hours, during which time, perhaps, more than a thousand persons had been completely absorbed in their religious ceremonies; and though beginning in the middle of the night, i have seen more yawning at the theatre or at an italian opera than i saw there. they now began to disperse, though i remember i left a crowd of regular amateurs, at the head of whom were our sailors, still hanging round the desk of an exhorting priest, with an earnestness that showed a still craving appetite. i do not wonder that the turks look with contempt upon christians, for they have constantly under their eyes the disgusting mummeries of the greek church, and see nothing of the pure and sublime principles our religion inculcates. still, however, there was something striking and interesting in the manner in which the greeks in this turkish town had kept themselves, as it were, a peculiar people, and, in spite of the brands of "dog" and "infidel," held fast to the religion they received from their fathers. there was nothing interesting about them as greeks; they had taken no part with their countrymen in their glorious struggle for liberty; they were engaged in petty business, and bartered the precious chance of freedom once before them for base profits and ignoble ease; and even now were content to live in chains, and kiss the rod that smote them. we returned to the house where we had slept; and, after coffee, in company with our host and his father, the priest, sat down to a meal, in which, for the first time in forty days, they ate meat. i had often remarked the religious observance of fast days among the common people in greece. in travelling there i had more than once offered an egg to my guide on a fast day, but never could get one to accept anything that came so near to animal food, though, by a strange confusion of the principles of religious obligation, perhaps the same man would not have hesitated to commit murder if he had any inducement to do so. mrs. hill, at athens, told me that, upon one occasion, a little girl in her school refused to eat a piece of cake because it was made with eggs. at daylight i was lying on the floor looking through a crevice of the window-shutter at the door of the minaret, waiting for the muezzin's morning cry to prayer. at six o'clock i went out, and finding the wind still in the same quarter, without any apparent prospect of change, determined, at all hazards, to leave the vessel and go on by land. my friend and fellow-passenger was also very anxious to get to smyrna, but would not accompany me, from an indefinite apprehension of plague, robbers, &c. i had heard so many of these rumours, all of which had proved to be unfounded, that i put no faith in any of them. i found a turk who engaged to take me through in fourteen hours; and at seven o'clock i was in my saddle, charged with a dozen letters from captains, supercargoes, and passengers, whom i left behind waiting for a change of wind. my tartar was a big swarthy fellow, with an extent of beard and mustaches unusual even among his bearded countrymen. he was armed with a pair of enormous pistols and a yataghan, and was, altogether, a formidable fellow to look upon. but there was a something about him that i liked. there was a doggedness, a downright stubbornness that seemed honest. i knew nothing about him. i picked him up in the street, and took him in preference to others who offered, because he would not be beaten down in his price. when he saw me seated on my horse he stood by my side a little distance off, and looking at me without opening his lips, drew his belt tight around him, and adjusted his pistols and yataghan. his manner seemed to say that he took charge of me as a bale of goods, to be paid for on safe delivery, and that he would carry me through with fire and sword, if necessary. and now, said i, "let fate do her worst;" i have a good horse under me, and in fourteen hours i shall be in smyrna. "blow winds and crack your cheeks;" i defy you. my tartar led off at a brisk trot, never opening his lips nor turning his head except occasionally to see how i followed him across a stream. at about ten o'clock he turned off from the horse-path into a piece of fine pasture, and, slipping the bridle off his horse, turned him loose to feed. he then did the same with mine, and, spreading my cloak on the ground for me to sit upon, sat down by my side and opened his wallet. his manner seemed to intimate a disposition to throw provisions into a common stock, no doubt expecting the gain to be on his side; but as i could only contribute a couple of rolls of bread which i bought as we rode through the town, i am inclined to think that he considered me rather a sponge. while we were sitting there a travelling party came up, consisting of five turks and three women. the women were on horseback, riding crosswise, though there were so many quilts, cushions, &c., piled on the backs of their horses that they sat rather on seats than on saddles. after a few words of parley with my tartar, the men lifted the women from the horses, taking them in their arms, and, as it were, hauling them off, not very gracefully, but very kindly; and, spreading their quilts on the ground a short distance from us, turned their horses loose to feed, and sat down to make their morning meal. an unusual and happy thing for me the women had their faces uncovered nearly all the time, though they could not well have carried on the process of eating with them muffled up in the usual style. one of the women was old, the other two were exceedingly young; neither of them more than sixteen; each had a child in her arms, and, without any allowance for time and place, both were exceedingly beautiful. i do not say so under the influence of the particular circumstances of our meeting, nor with the view of making an incident of it, but i would have singled them out as such if i had met them in a ballroom at home. i was particularly struck with their delicacy of figure and complexion. notwithstanding their laughing faces, their mirth, and the kind treatment of the men, i could not divest myself of the idea that they were caged birds longing to be free. i could not believe that a woman belonging to a turk could be otherwise than unhappy. unfortunately, i could not understand a word of their language; and as they looked from their turbaned lords to my stiff hat and frockcoat, they seemed to regard me as something the tartar had just caught and was taking up to constantinople as a present to the sultan. i endeavoured to show, however, that i was not the wild thing they took me to be; that i had an eye to admire their beauty, and a heart to feel for their servitude. i tried to procure from them some signal of distress; i did all that i could to get some sign to come to their rescue, and to make myself generally agreeable. i looked sentimentally. this they did not seem to understand at all. i smiled; this seemed to please them better; and there is no knowing to what a point i might have arrived, but my tartar hurried me away; and i parted on the wild plains of turkey with two young and beautiful women, leading almost a savage life, whose personal graces would have made them ornaments in polished and refined society. verily, said i, the turks are not so bad, after all; they have handsome wives, and a handsome wife comes next after chibouks and coffee. i was now reminded at every step of my being in an oriental country by the caravans i was constantly meeting. caravans and camels are more or less associated with all the fairy scenes and glowing pictures of the east. they have always presented themselves to my mind with a sort of poetical imagery, and they certainly have a fine effect in a description or in a picture; but, after all, they are ugly-looking things to meet on the road. i would rather see the two young turk-_esses_ again than all the caravans in the east. the caravan is conducted by a guide on a donkey, with a halter attached to the first camel, and so on from camel to camel through the whole caravan. the camel is an exceedingly ugly animal in his proportions, and there is a dead uniformity in his movement; with a dead, vacant expression in his face, that is really distressing. if a man were dying of thirst in the desert, it would be enough to drive him to distraction to look in the cool, unconcerned, and imperturbable face of his camel. but their value is inestimable in a country like this, where there are no carriage roads, and where deserts and drought present themselves in every direction. one of the camel scenes, the encampment, is very picturesque, the camels arranged around on their knees in a circle, with their heads to the centre, and the camel-drivers with their bales piled up within; and i was struck with another scene; we came to the borders of a stream, which it was necessary to cross in a boat. the boat was then on the other side, and the boatman and camel driver were trying to get on board some camels. when we came up they had got three on board, down on their knees in the bottom of the boat, and were then in the act of coercing the fourth. the poor brute was frightened terribly; resisted with all his might, and put forth most piteous cries; i do not know a more distressing noise than the cry of a brute suffering from fear; it seems to partake of the feeling that causes it, and carries with it something fearful; but the cries of the poor brute were vain; they got him on board, and in the same way urged on board three others. they then threw in the donkey, and seven camels and the donkey were so stowed in the bottom of the boat, that they did not take up much more room than calves on board of our country boats. in the afternoon i met another travelling party of an entirely different description. if before i had occasionally any doubts or misgivings as to the reality of my situation; if sometimes it seemed to be merely a dream, that it could not be that i was so far from home, wandering alone on the plains of asia, with a guide whom i never saw till that morning, whose language i could not understand, and upon whose faith i could not rely; if the scenes of turbaned turks, of veiled women, of caravans and camels, of graveyards with their mourning cypress and thousands of tombstones, where every trace of the cities which supplied them with their dead had entirely disappeared; if these and the other strange scenes around me would seem to be the mere creations of a roving imagination, the party which i met now was so marked in its character, so peculiar to an oriental country, and to an oriental country only, that it roused me from my waking dreams, fixed my wandering thoughts, and convinced me, beyond all peradventure, that i was indeed far from home, among a people "whose thoughts are not as our thoughts, and whose ways are not as our ways;" in short, in a land where ladies are not the omnipotent creatures that they are with us. this party was no other than the ladies of a harem. they were all dressed in white, with their white shawls wrapped around their faces, so that they effectually concealed every feature, and could bring to bear only the artillery of their eyes. i found this, however, to be very potent, as it left so much room for the imagination; and it was a very easy matter to make a fatima of every one of them. they were all on horseback, not riding sidewise, but _otherwise_; though i observed, as before, that their saddles were so prepared that their delicate limbs were not subject to that extreme expansion required by the saddle of the rougher sex. they were escorted by a party of armed turks, and followed by a man in frank dress, who, as i after understood, was the physician of the harem. they were thirteen in number, just a baker's dozen, and belonged to a pacha who was making his annual tour of the different posts under his government, and had sent them on before to have the household matters all arranged upon his arrival. and no doubt, also, they were to be in readiness to receive him with their smiles; and if they continued in the same humour in which i saw them, he must have been a happy man who could call them all his own. i had not fairly recovered from the cries of the poor camel when i heard their merry voices: verily, thought i, stopping to catch the last musical notes, there are exceedingly good points about the turks: chibouks, coffee, and as many wives as they please. it made me whistle to think of it. oh, thought i, that some of our ladies could see these things; that some haughty beauty, at whose feet dozens of worthy and amiable young gentlemen are sighing themselves into premature wrinkles and ugliness, might see these things. i am no rash innovator. i would not sweep away the established customs of our state of society. i would not lay my meddling fingers upon the admitted prerogatives of our ladies; but i cannot help asking myself if, in the rapid changes of this turning world, changes which completely alter rocks and the hardest substances of nature, it may not by possibility happen that the tenour of a lady's humour will change. what a goodly spectacle to see those who are never content without a dozen admirers in their train, following by dozens in the train of one man! but i fear me much that this will never be, at least in our day. our system of education is radically wrong. the human mind, says some philosopher, and the gentleman is right, is like the sand upon the shore of the sea. you may write upon it what character you please. _we_ begin by writing upon their innocent unformed minds, that, "born for their use, we live but to oblige them." the consequence is, i will not say what; for i hope to return among them and kiss the rod in some fair hand; but this i do know, that here the "twig is so bent" that they become as gentle, as docile, and as tractable as any domestic animal. i say again, there are many exceeding good points about the turks. at about six o'clock we came in sight of smyrna, on the opposite side of the gulf, and still a long way off. at dusk we were directly opposite the city; and although we had yet to make a long circuit round the head of the gulf, i was revelling in the bright prospect before me. dreams of pulling off my pantaloons; delightful visions of clean sheets and a christian bed flitted before my eyes. yes, said i to my pantaloons and shirt, ye worthy and faithful servants, this night ye shall have rest. while other garments have fallen from me by the way, ye have stuck to me. and thou, my gray pantaloons, little did the neat parisian tailor who made thee think that the strength of his stitching would ever be tested by three weeks' uninterrupted wear; but to-morrow thou shalt go into the hands of a master, who shall sew on thy buttons and sew up thy rents; and thou, my--i was going on with words of the same affectionate import to my shirt, stockings, and drawers, which, however, did not deserve so well of me, for they had in a measure _dropped off_ on the way, when my tartar came to a dead stop before the door of a cabin, dismounted, and made signs to me to do the same. but i began now to have some notions of my own; heretofore i had been perfectly passive; i had always done as i was told, but in sight of smyrna i became restiff. i talked and shouted to him, pointed to the city, and turned my horse as though i was going on alone. my tartar, however, paid no attention to me; he very coolly took off my carpet-bag and carried it into the cabin, lighted his pipe, and sat down by the door, looking at me with the most imperturbable gravity. i had hardly had time to admire his impudence, and to calculate the chances of my being able, alone at night, to cross the many streams which emptied into the gulf, when the wind, which had been rising for some time, became very violent, and the rain began to fall in torrents. with a sigh i bade farewell to the bright visions that had deluded me, gave another sigh to the uncertainty of all human calculations, the cup and the lip, &c., and took refuge in the cabin. what a substitute for the pretty little picture i had drawn! three turks were sitting round a brazier of charcoal frying doughballs. three rugs were spread in three corners of the cabin, and over each of them were the eternal pistols and yataghan. there was nothing there to defend; their miserable lives were not worth taking; why were these weapons there? the turks at first took no notice of me, and i had now to make amends for my backwardness in entering. i resolved to go to work boldly, and at once elbowed among them for a seat around the brazier. the one next me on my right seemed a little struck by my easy ways; he put his hand on his ribs to feel how far my elbow had penetrated, and then took his pipe from his mouth and offered it to me. the ice broken, i smoked the pipe to the last whiff, and handed it to him to be refilled; with all the horrors of dyspepsy before my eyes, i scrambled with them for the last doughball, and, when the attention of all of them was particularly directed toward me, took out my watch, held it over the lamp, and wound it up. i addressed myself particularly to the one who had first taken notice of me, and made myself extremely agreeable by always smoking his pipe. after coffee and half a dozen pipes, he gave me to understand that i was to sleep with him upon his mat, at which i slapped him on the back and cried out, "bono," having heard him use that word apparently with a knowledge of its meaning. i was surprised in the course of the evening to see one of them begin to undress, knowing that such was not the custom of the country, but found that it was only a temporary disrobing for sporting purposes, to hunt fleas and bedbugs; by which i had an opportunity of comparing the turkish with some i had brought with me from greece; and though the turk had great reason to be proud of his, i had no reason to be ashamed of mine. i now began to be drowsy, and should soon have fallen asleep; but the youngest of the party, a sickly and sentimental young man, melancholy and musical, and, no doubt, in love, brought out the common turkish instrument, a sort of guitar, on which he worked with untiring vivacity, keeping time with his head and heels. my friend accompanied him with his voice, and this brought out my tartar, who joined in with groans and grunts which might have waked the dead. but my cup was not yet full. during the musical festival my friend and intended bedfellow took down from a shelf above me a large plaster, which he warmed over the brazier. he then unrolled his turban, took off a plaster from the back of his head, and disclosed a wound, raw, gory, and ghastly, that made my heart sink within me: i knew that the plague was about smyrna; i had heard that it was on this road; i involuntarily recurred to the italian prayer, "save me from the three miseries of the levant: plague, fire, and the dragoman." i shut my eyes; i had slept but two hours the night before; had ridden twelve hours that day on horseback; i drew my cloak around me; my head sank upon my carpet-bag, and i fell asleep, leaving the four turks playing cards on the bottom of a pewter plate. once during the night i was awakened by my bedfellow's mustaches tickling my lips. i turned my back and slept on. in the morning my tartar, with one jerk, stood me upright on the floor, and holding me in that position until i got awake, kicked open the door, and pointed to my horse standing before it ready saddled and bridled. in three hours i was crossing the caravan bridge, a bridge over the beautiful melissus, on the banks of which homer was born; and picking my way among caravans, which for ages have continued to cross this bridge laden with all the riches of the east, i entered the long-looked-for city of smyrna, a city that has braved the reiterated efforts of conflagrations, plagues, and earthquakes; ten times destroyed, and ten times risen from her ruins; the queen of the cities of anatolia; extolled by the ancients as smyrna the lovely, the crown of ionia, the pride of asia. but old things have passed away, and the ancient city now figures only under the head of arrivals in a newspaper, in the words and figures following, that is to say, "brig betsy, baker master, 57 days from smyrna, with figs and raisins to order. mastic dull, opium rising." in half an hour i was in the full enjoyment of a turkish bath; lolled half an hour on a divan, with chibouk and coffee, and came out fresh as if i had spent the last three weeks training for the ring. oh, these turks are luxurious dogs. chibouks, coffee, hot baths, and as many wives as they please. what a catalogue of human enjoyments! but i intend smyrna as a place of rest, and, in charity, give you the benefit, of it. **** chapter ix. first sight of smyrna.--unveiled women.--ruins of ephesus.--ruin, all ruin.--temple of diana.--encounter with a wolf.--love at first sight.--gatherings on the road. (_another letter._) my dear ****, after my bath i returned to my hotel, breakfasted, and sallied out for a walk. it was now about twelve o'clock, sunday--the first sunday after easter--and all the frank population was in the streets. my hotel was in an out-of-the-way quarter, and when, turning a corner, i suddenly found myself in the main street, i was not prepared for the sight that met my eye. paris on a fête day does not present so gay and animated a scene. it was gay, animated, striking, and beautiful, and entirely different from anything i had ever seen in any european city. franks, jews, greeks, turks, and armenians, in their various and striking costumes, were mingled together in agreeable confusion; and making all due allowance for the circumstance that i had for some time been debarred the sight of an unveiled woman, i certainly never saw so much beauty, and i never saw a costume so admirably calculated to set off beauty. at the same time the costume is exceedingly trying to a lady's pretensions. being no better than one of the uninitiated, i shall not venture upon such dangerous ground as a lady's toilet. i will merely refer to that part which particularly struck me, and that is the headdress; no odious broad-brimmed hat; no enormous veils enveloping nose, mouth, and eyes; but simply a large gauze turban, sitting lightly and gracefully on the head, rolled back over the forehead, leaving the whole face completely exposed, and exhibiting clear dark complexions, rosy lips closing over teeth of dazzling whiteness; and then such eyes, large, dark, and rolling. it is matter of history, and it is confirmed by poetry, that "the angelic youths of old, burning for maids of mortal mould, bewildered, left the glorious skies, and lost their heaven for woman's eyes." my dear friend, this is the country where such things happened; the throne of the thunderer, high olympus, is almost in sight, and these are the daughters of the women who worked such miracles. if the age of passion, like the age of chivalry, were not over and for ever gone, if this were not emphatically a bank-note world, i would say of the smyrniotes, above all others, that they are that description of women who could "raise a mortal to the skies, or bring an angel down." and they walk, too, as if conscious of their high pretensions, as if conscious that the reign of beauty is not yet ended; and, under that enchanting turban, charge with the whole artillery of their charms. it is a perfect unmasked battery; nothing can stand before it. i wonder the sultan allows it. the turks are as touchy as tinder; they take fire as quick as any of the old demigods, and a pair of black eyes is at any time enough to put mischief in them. but the turks are a considerate people. they consider that the franks, or rather the greeks, to whom i particularly refer, have periodical fits of insanity that they go mad twice a year during carnival and after lent; and if at such a time a follower of the prophet, accidentally straggling in the frank quarter, should find the current of his blood disturbed, he would sooner die, nay, he would sooner cut off his beard, than hurt a hair of any one of the light heads that he sees flitting before him. there is something remarkable, by-the-way, in the tenacity with which the grecian women have sustained the rights and prerogatives of beauty in defiance of turkish customs and prejudices; while the men have fallen into the habits of their quondam masters, have taken to pipes and coffee, and in many instances to turbans and big trousers, the women have ever gone with their faces uncovered, and to this day one and all eschew the veil of the turkish women. pleased and amused with myself and everything i saw, i moved along unnoticed and unknown, staring, observing, and admiring; among other things, i observed that one of the amiable customs of our own city was in full force here, viz., that of the young gentlemen, with light sticks in their hands, gathering around the door of the fashionable church to stare at the ladies as they came out. i was pleased to find such a mark of civilization in a land of barbarians, and immediately fell into a thing which seemed so much like home; but, in justice to the smyrniote ladies, i must say i cannot flatter myself that i stared a single one out of countenance. but i need not attempt to interest you in smyrna; it is too every-day a place; every cape cod sailor knows it better than i do. i have done all that i could; i have waived the musty reminiscences of its history; i have waived ruins which are said to exist here, and have endeavoured to give you a faint but true picture of its living and existing beauties, of the bright and beautiful scene that broke upon me the first morning of my arrival; and now, if i have not touched you with the beauty of its women, i should despair of doing so by any description of its beautiful climate, its charming environs, and its hospitable society. leave, then, what is, after all, but the city of figs and raisins, and go with me where, by comparison, the foot of civilized man seldom treads; go with me into the desert and solitary places; go with me among the cities of the seven churches of asia; and, first, to the ruins of ephesus. i had been several days expecting a companion to make this tour with me, but, being disappointed, was obliged to set out alone. i was not exactly alone, for i had with me a turk as guide and a greek as cicerone and interpreter, both well mounted and armed to the teeth. we started at two o'clock in the morning, under the light of thousands of stars; and the day broke upon us in a country wild and desolate, as if it were removed thousands of miles from the habitations of men. there was little variety and little incident in our ride. during the whole day it lay through a country decidedly handsome, the soil rich and fertile, but showing with appalling force the fatal effects of misgovernment, wholly uncultivated, and almost wholly uninhabited. indeed, the only habitations were the little turkish coffee-houses and the black tents of the turcomans. these are a wandering tribe, who come out from the desert, and approach comparatively near the abodes of civilization. they are a pastoral people; their riches are their flocks and herds; they lead a wandering life, free as the air they breathe; they have no local attachments; to-day they pitch their tents on the hillside, to-morrow on the plain; and wherever they sit themselves down, all that they have on earth, wife, children, and friends, are immediately around them. there is something primitive, almost patriarchal, in their appearance; indeed, it carries one back to a simple and perhaps a purer age, and you can almost realize that state of society when the patriarch sat in the door of his tent and called in and fed the passing traveller. the general character of the road is such as to prepare one for the scene that awaits him at ephesus; enormous burying-grounds, with thousands of headstones shaded by the mourning cypress, in the midst of a desolate country, where not a vestige of a human habitation is to be seen. they stand on the roadside as melancholy telltales that large towns or cities once existed in their immediate neighbourhood, and that the generations who occupied them have passed away, furnishing fearful evidence of the decrease of the turkish population, and perhaps that the gigantic empire of the ottoman is tottering to its fall. for about three hours before reaching ephesus, the road, crossing a rich and beautiful plain watered by the cayster, lies between two mountains; that on the right leads to the sea, and on the left are the ruins of ephesus. near, and in the immediate vicinity, storks were calmly marching over the plain and building among the ruins; they moved as if seldom disturbed by human footsteps, and seemed to look upon us as intruders upon a spot for a long time abandoned to birds and beasts of prey. about a mile this side are the remains of the turkish city of aysalook, or temple of the moon, a city of comparatively modern date, reared into a brief magnificence out of the ruins of its fallen neighbour. a sharp hill, almost a mountain, rises abruptly from the plain, on the top of which is a ruined fortress, with many ruins of turkish magnificence at the base; broken columns, baths overgrown with ivy, and the remains of a grand mosque, the roof sustained by four granite columns from the temple of diana; the minaret fallen, the mosque deserted; the mussulman no more goes there to pray; bats and owls were building in its lofty roof, and snakes and lizards were crawling over its marble floor. it was late in the afternoon when i arrived at the little coffee-house at aysalook; a caravan had already encamped under some fine old sycamores before the door, preparatory to passing the night. i was somewhat fatigued, and my greek, who had me in charge, was disposed to stop and wait for the morrow; but the fallen city was on the opposite hill at but a short distance, and the shades of evening seemed well calculated to heighten the effect of a ramble among its ruins. in a right line it was not more than half a mile, but we soon found that we could not go directly to it; a piece of low swampy ground lay between, and we had not gone far before our horses sank up to their saddle-girths. we were obliged to retrace our steps, and work our way around by a circuitous route of more than two miles. this, too, added to the effect of our approach. it was a dreary reflection, that a city, whose ports and whose gates had been open to the commerce of the then known world; whose wealth had invited the traveller and sojourner within its walls should lie a ruin upon a hillside, with swamps and morasses extending around it, in sight but out of reach, near but unapproachable. a warning voice seemed to issue from the ruins, "_procul, procul, este profani_," my day is past, my sun is set, i have gone to my grave; pass on, stranger, and disturb not the ashes of the dead. but my turk did not understand latin, and we continued to advance. we moved along in perfect silence, for besides that my turk never spoke, and my greek, who was generally loquacious enough, was out of humour at being obliged to go on, we had enough to do in picking our lonely way. but silence best suited the scene; the sound of the human voice seemed almost a mockery of fallen greatness. we entered by a large and ruined gateway into a place distinctly marked as having been a street, and, from the broken columns strewed on each side, probably having been lined with a colonnade. i let my reins fall upon my horse's neck; he moved about in the slow and desultory way that suited my humour; now sinking to his knees in heaps of rubbish, now stumbling over a corinthian capital, and now sliding over a marble pavement. the whole hillside is covered with ruins to an extent far greater than i expected to find, and they are all of a kind that tends to give a high idea of the ancient magnificence of the city. to me, these ruins appeared to be a confused and shapeless mass; but they have been examined by antiquaries with great care, and the character of many of them identified with great certainty. i had, however, no time for details; and, indeed, the interest of these ruins in my eyes was not in the details. it mattered little to me that this was the stadium and that a fountain; that this was a gymnasium and that a market-place; it was enough to know that the broken columns, the mouldering walls, the grass-grown streets, and the wide-extended scene of desolation and ruin around me were all that remained of one of the greatest cities of asia, one of the earliest christian cities in the world. but what do i say? who does not remember the tumults and confusion raised by demetrius the silversmith, "lest the temple of the great goddess diana should be despised, and her magnificence be destroyed;" and how the people, having caught "caius and aristarchus, paul's companions in travel," rushed with one accord into the theatre, crying out, "great is diana of the ephesians." my dear friend, i sat among the ruins of that theatre; the stillness of death was around me; far as the eye could reach, not a living soul was to be seen save my two companions and a group of lazy turks smoking at the coffee-house in aysalook. a man of strong imagination might almost go wild with the intensity of his own reflections; and do not let it surprise you, that even one like me, brought up among the technicalities of declarations and replications, rebutters and surrebutters, and in nowise given to the illusions of the senses, should find himself roused, and irresistibly hurried back to the time when the shapeless and confused mass around him formed one of the most magnificent cities in the world; when a large and busy population was hurrying through its streets, intent upon the same pleasures and the same business that engage men now; that he should, in imagination, see before him st. paul preaching to the ephesians, shaking their faith in the gods of their fathers, gods made with their own hands; and the noise and confusion, and the people rushing tumultuously up the very steps where he sat; that he should almost hear their cry ringing in his ears, "great is diana of the ephesians;" and then that he should turn from this scene of former glory and eternal ruin to his own far-distant land; a land that the wisest of the ephesians never dreamed of; where the wild man was striving with the wild beast when the whole world rang with the greatness of the ephesian name; and which bids fair to be growing greater and greater when the last vestige of ephesus shall be gone and its very site unknown. but where is the temple of the great diana, the temple two hundred and twenty years in building; the temple of one hundred and twenty-seven columns, each column the gift of a king? can it be that the temple of the "great goddess diana," that the ornament of asia, the pride of ephesus, and one of the seven wonders of the world, has gone, disappeared, and left not a trace behind? as a traveller, i would fain be able to say that i have seen the ruins of this temple; but, unfortunately, i am obliged to limit myself by facts. its site has of course engaged the attention of antiquaries. i am no skeptic in these matters, and am disposed to believe all that my cicerone tells me. you remember the countryman who complained to his minister that he never gave him any latin in his sermons; and when the minister answered that he would not understand it, the countryman replied that he paid for the best, and ought to have it. i am like that honest countryman; but my cicerone understood himself better than the minister; he knew that i paid him for the best; he knew what was expected from him, and that his reputation was gone for ever if, in such a place as ephesus, he could not point out the ruins of the great temple of diana. he accordingly had _his_ temple, which he stuck to with as much pertinacity as if he had built it himself; but i am sorry to be obliged to say, in spite of his authority and my own wish to believe him, that the better opinion is, that now not a single stone is to be seen. topographers have fixed the site on the plain, near the gate of the city which opened to the sea. the sea, which once almost washed the walls, has receded or been driven back for several miles. for many years a new soil has been accumulating, and all that stood on the plain, including so much of the remains of the temple as had not been plundered and carried away by different conquerors, is probably now buried many feet under its surface. it was dark when i returned to aysalook. i had remarked, in passing, that several caravans had encamped there, and on my return found the camel-drivers assembled in the little coffee-house in which i was to pass the night. i soon saw that there were so many of us that we should make a tight fit in the sleeping part of the khan, and immediately measured off space enough to fit my body, allowing turning and kicking room. i looked with great complacency upon the light slippers of the turks, which they always throw off, too, when they go to sleep, and made an ostentatious display of a pair of heavy iron-nailed boots, and, in lying down, gave one or two preliminary thumps to show them that i was restless in my movements, and, if they came too near me these iron-nailed boots would be uncomfortable neighbours. and here i ought to have spent half the night in musing upon the strange concatenation of circumstances which had broken up a quiet practising attorney, and sent him a straggler from a busy, money-getting land, to meditate among the ruins of ancient cities, and sleep pellmell with turbaned turks. but i had no time for musing; i was amazingly tired; i looked at the group of turks in one corner, and regretted that i could not talk with them; thought of the tower of babel and the wickedness of man, which brought about a confusion of tongues; of camel-drivers, and arabian nights' entertainments; of home, and my own comfortable room in the third story; brought my boot down with a thump that made them all start, and in five minutes was asleep. in the morning i again went over to the ruins. daylight, if possible, added to their effect; and a little thing occurred, not much in itself, but which, under the circumstances, fastened itself upon my mind in such a way that i shall never forget it. i had read that here, in the stillness of the night, the jackal's cry was heard; that, if a stone was rolled, a scorpion or lizard slipped from under it; and, while picking our way slowly along the lower part of the city, a wolf of the largest size came out above, as if indignant at being disturbed in his possessions. he moved a few paces toward us with such a resolute air that my companions both drew their pistols; then stopped, and gazed at us deliberately as we were receding from him, until, as if satisfied that we intended to leave his dominions, he turned and disappeared among the ruins. it would have made a fine picture; the turk first, then the greek, each with a pistol in his hand, then myself, all on horseback, the wolf above us, the valley, and the ruined city. i feel my inability to give you a true picture of these ruins. indeed, if i could lay before you every particular, block for block, fragment for fragment, here a column and there a column, i could not convey a full idea of the desolation that marks the scene. to the christian, the ruins of ephesus carry with them a peculiar interest; for here, upon the wreck of heathen temples, was established one of the earliest christian churches; but the christian church has followed the heathen temple, and the worshippers of the true god have followed the worshippers of the great goddess diana; and in the city where paul preached, and where, in the words of the apostle, "much people were gathered unto the lord," now not a solitary christian dwells. verily, in the prophetic language of inspiration, the "candlestick is removed from its place;" a curse seems to have fallen upon it, men shun it, not a human being is to be seen among its ruins; and ephesus, in faded glory and fallen grandeur, is given up to birds and beasts of prey, a monument and a warning to nations. from ephesus i went to scala nova, handsomely situated on the shore of the sea, and commanding a fine view of the beautiful island of samos, distant not more than four miles. i had a letter to a greek merchant there, who received me kindly, and introduced me to the turkish governor. the governor, as usual, was seated upon a divan, and asked us to take seats beside him. we were served with coffee and pipes by two handsome greek slaves, boys about fourteen, with long hair hanging down their necks, and handsomely dressed; who, after serving us, descended from the platform, and waited with folded arms until we had finished. soon after a third guest came, and a third lad, equally handsome and equally well dressed, served him in the same manner. this is the style of the turkish grandees, a slave to every guest. i do not know to what extent it is carried, but am inclined to think that, in the present instance, if one or two more guests had happened to come in, my friend's retinue of slaves would have fallen short. the governor asked me from what country i came, and who was my king; and when i told him that we had no king, but a president, he said, very graciously, that our president and the grand seignior were very good friends; a compliment which i acknowledged with all becoming humility. wanting to show off a little, i told him that we were going to fight the french, and he said we should certainly whip them if we could get the grand seignior to help us. i afterward called on my own account upon the english consul. the consuls in these little places are originals. they have nothing to do, but they have the government arms blazoned over their doors, and strut about in cocked hats and regimentals, and shake their heads, and look knowing, and talk about their government; they do not know what the government will think, &c., when half the time their government hardly knows of the existence of its worthy representatives. this was an old maltese, who spoke french and italian. he received me very kindly, and pressed me to stay all night. i told him that i was not an englishman, and had no claim upon his hospitality; but he said that made no difference; that he was consul for all civilized nations, among which he did me the honour to include mine. at three o'clock i took leave of the consul. my greek friend accompanied me outside the gate, where my horses were waiting for me; and, at parting, begged me to remember that i had a friend, who hardly knew what pleasure was except in serving me. i told him that the happiness of my life was not complete before i met him; we threw ourselves into each other's arms, and, after a two hours' acquaintance, could hardly tear away from each other's embraces. such is the force of sympathy between congenial spirits. my friend was a man about fifty, square built, broad shouldered, and big mustached; and the beauty of it was, that neither could understand a word the other said; and all this touching interchange of sentiment had to pass through my mustached, big-whiskered, double-fisted, six-feet interpreter. at four o'clock we set out on our return; at seven we stopped in a beautiful valley surrounded by mountains, and on the sides of the mountains were a number of turcomans tents. the khan was worse than any i had yet seen. it had no floor and no mat. the proprietor of the khan, if such a thing, consisting merely of four mud walls with a roof of branches, which seemed to have been laid there by the winds, could be said to have a proprietor, was uncommonly sociable; he set before me my supper, consisting of bread and yort--a preparation of milk--and appeared to be much amused at seeing me eat. he asked my guide many questions about me; examined my pistols, took off his turban, and put my hat upon his shaved head, which transformed him from a decidedly bold, slashing-looking fellow, into a decidedly sneaking-looking one. i had certainly got over all fastidiousness in regard to eating, drinking, and sleeping; but i could not stand the vermin at this khan. in the middle of the night i rose and went out of doors; it was a brilliant starlight night, and, as the bare earth was in any case to be my bed, i exchanged the mud floor of my khan for the greensward and the broad canopy of heaven. my turk was sleeping on the ground, about a hundred yards from the house, with his horse grazing around him. i nestled close to him, and slept perhaps two hours. toward morning i was awakened by the cold, and, with the selfishness of misery, i began punching my turk under the ribs to wake him. this was no easy matter; but, after a while, i succeeded, got him to saddle the horses, and in a few minutes we were off, my greek not at all pleased with having his slumbers so prematurely disturbed. at about two o'clock we passed some of the sultan's _volunteers_. these were about fifty men chained together by the wrists and ankles, who had been chased, run down, and caught in some of the villages, and were now on their way to constantinople, under a guard, to be trained as soldiers. i could but smile as i saw them, not at them, for, in truth, there was nothing in their condition to excite a smile, but at the recollection of an article i had seen a few days before in a european paper, which referred to the new levies making by the sultan, and the spirit with which his subjects entered into the service. they were a speaking comment upon european insight into turkish politics. but, without more ado, suffice it to say, that at about four o'clock i found myself at the door of my hotel, my outer garments so covered with creeping things that my landlord, a prudent swiss, with many apologies, begged me to shake myself before going into the house; and my nether garments so stained with blood, that i looked as if a corps of the sultan's regulars had pricked me with their bayonets. my enthusiasm on the subject of the seven churches was in no small degree abated, and just at that moment i was willing to take upon trust the condition of the others, that all that was foretold of them in the scriptures had come to pass. i again betook me to the bath, and, in thinking of the luxury of my repose, i feel for you, and come to a full stop. **** chapter x. position of smyrna.--consular privileges.--the case of the lover.--end of the love affair.--the missionary's wife.--the casino.--only a greek row.--rambles in smyrna.--the armenians.--domestic enjoyments. but i must go back a little, and make the amende honourable, for, in truth, ghiaour ismir, or infidel smyrna, with its wild admixture of european and asiatic population, deserves better than the rather cavalier notice contained in my letter. before reaching it i had remarked its exceeding beauty of position, chosen as it is with that happy taste which distinguished the greeks in selecting the sites of their ancient cities, on the declivity of a mountain running down to the shore of the bay, with houses rising in terraces on its sides; its domes and minarets, interspersed with cypresses, rising above the tiers of houses, and the summit of the hill crowned with a large solitary castle. it was the first large turkish city i had seen, and it differed, too, from all other turkish cities in the strong foothold obtained there by europeans. indeed, remembering it as a place where often, and within a very few years, upon a sudden outbreaking of popular fury, the streets were deluged with christian blood, i was particularly struck, not only with the air of confidence and security, but, in fact, with the bearing of superiority assumed by the "christian dog!" among the followers of the prophet. directly on the bay is a row of large houses running along the whole front of the city, among which are seen emblazoned over the doors the arms of most of the foreign consuls, including the american. by the treaties of the porte with christian powers, the turkish tribunals have no jurisdiction of matters touching the rights of foreign residents; and all disputes between these, and even criminal offences, fall under the cognizance of their respective consuls. this gives the consuls in all the maritime ports of turkey great power and position; and all over the levant they are great people; but at smyrna they are far more important than ambassadors and ministers at the european capitals; and, with their janisaries and their appearance on all public occasions in uniform, are looked up to by the levantines somewhat like the consuls sent abroad under the roman empire, and by the turks as almost sultans. the morning after my arrival i delivered letters of introduction to mr. offley, the american consul, a native of philadelphia, thirty years resident in smyrna, and married to an armenian lady, mr. langdon, a merchant of boston, and mr. styth, of baltimore, of the firm of issaverdens, styth, and company; one to mr. jetter, a german missionary, whose lady told me, while her husband was reading it, that she had met me in the street the day before, and on her return home told him that an american had just arrived. i was curious to know the mark by which she recognised me as an american, being rather dubious whether it was by reason of anything praiseworthy or the reverse; but she could not tell. i trust the reader has not forgotten the victim of the tender passion who, in the moment of my leaving athens, had reposed in my sympathizing bosom the burden of his hopes and fears. at the very first house in which i was introduced to the female members of the family, i found making a morning call the lady who had made such inroads upon his affections. i had already heard her spoken of as being the largest fortune, and, par consequence, the greatest belle in smyrna, and i hailed it as a favourable omen that i accidentally made her acquaintance so soon after my arrival. i made my observations, and could not help remarking that she was by no means pining away on account of the absence of my friend. i was almost indignant at her heartless happiness, and, taking advantage of an opportunity, introduced his name, hoping to see a shade come over her, and, perhaps, to strike her pensive for two or three minutes; but her comment was a deathblow to my friend's prospects and my mediation: "poor m.!" and all present repeated "poor m.!" with a portentous smile, and the next moment had forgotten his existence. i went away in the full conviction that it was all over with "poor m.!" and murmuring to myself, put not your trust in woman, i dined, and in the afternoon called with my letter of introduction upon his friend the rev. mr. brewer, and mr. brewer's comment on reading it was about equal to the lady's "poor m.!" he asked me in what condition i left our unfortunate friend. i told him his _leg_ was pretty bad, though he continued to hobble about; but mr. brewer interrupted me; he did not mean his leg, but, he hesitated and with reluctance, as if he wished to avoid speaking of it outright, added, _his mind_. i did not comprehend him, and, from his hesitation and delicacy, imagined that he was alluding to the lover's heart; but he cleared the matter up, and to my no small surprise, by telling me that, some time before he left smyrna, "poor m." had shown such strong marks of aberration of intellect, that his friends had deemed it advisable to put him under the charge of a brother missionary and send him home, and that they hoped great benefit from travel and change of scene. i was surprised, and by no means elevated in my own conceit, when i found that i had been made the confidant of a crazy man. mr. hill, not knowing of any particular intimacy between us, and probably not wishing to publish his misfortune unnecessarily, had not given me the slightest intimation of it, and i had not discovered it. i had considered his communication to me strange, and his general conduct not less so, but i had no idea that it was anything more than the ordinary derangement which every man is said to labour under when in love. i then told mr. brewer my story, and the commission with which i was intrusted, which he said was perfectly characteristic, his malady being a sort of monomania on the subject of the tender passion; and every particle of interest which i might nevertheless have taken in the affair, in connecting his derangement in some way with the lady in question, was destroyed by the volatile direction of his passion, sometimes to one object and sometimes with another; and in regard to the lady to whom i was accredited, he had never shown any penchant toward her in particular, and must have given me her name because it happened to be the first that suggested itself at the moment of his unburdening himself to me. fortunately, i had not exposed myself by any demonstrations in behalf of my friend, so i quietly dropped him. on leaving mr. brewer i suggested a doubt whether i could be regarded as an acquaintance upon the introduction of a crazy man; but we had gone so far that it was decided, for that specific purpose, to admit his sanity. i should not mention these particulars if there was any possibility of their ever wounding the feelings of him to whom they refer; but he is now beyond the reach either of calumny or praise, for about a year after i heard, with great regret, that his malady had increased, accompanied with a general derangement of health; and, shortly after his return home, he died. my intercourse with the franks was confined principally to my own countrymen, whose houses were open to me at all times; and i cannot help mentioning the name of mr. van lennup, the dutch consul, the great friend of the missionaries in the levant, who had been two years resident in the united states, and was intimately acquainted with many of my friends at home. society in smyrna is purely mercantile; and having been so long out of the way of it, it was actually grateful to me once more to hear men talking with all their souls about cotton, stocks, exchanges, and other topics of _interest_, in the literal meaning of the word. sometimes lounging in a merchant's counting-room, i took up an american paper, and heard boston, and new-york, and baltimore, and cotton, and opium, and freight, and quarter per cent. less bandied about, until i almost fancied myself at home; and when this became too severe i had a resource with the missionaries, gentlemanly and well-educated men, well acquainted with the countries and the places worth visiting, with just the books i wanted, and, i had almost said, the wives; i mean with wives always glad to see a countryman, and to talk about home. there is something exceedingly interesting in a missionary's wife. a soldier's is more so, for she follows him to danger and, perhaps, to death; but glory waits him if he falls, and while she weeps she is proud. before i went abroad the only missionary i ever knew i despised, for i believed him to be a canting hypocrite; but i saw much of them abroad, and made many warm friends among them; and, i repeat it, there is something exceedingly interesting in a missionary's wife. she who had been cherished as a plant that the winds must not breathe on too rudely, recovers from the shock of a separation from her friends to find herself in a land of barbarians, where her loud cry of distress can never reach their ears. new ties twine round her heart, and the tender and helpless girl changes her very nature, and becomes the staff and support of the man. in his hours of despondency she raises his drooping spirits; she bathes his aching head; she smooths his pillow of sickness; and, after months of wearisome silence, i have entered her dwelling, and her heart instinctively told her that i was from the same land. i have been welcomed as a brother; answered her hurried, and anxious, and eager questions; and sometimes, when i have known any of her friends at home, i have been for a moment more than recompensed for all the toils and privations of a traveller in the east. i have left her dwelling burdened with remembrances to friends whom she will perhaps never see again. i bore a letter to a father, which was opened by a widowed mother. where i could, i have discharged every promise to a missionary's wife; but i have some yet undischarged which i rank among the sacred obligations of my life. it is true, the path of the missionary is not strewed with roses; but often, in leaving his house at night, and following my guide with a lantern through the narrow streets of a turkish city, i have run over the troubles incident to every condition of life, not forgetting those of a traveller, and have taken to whistling, and, as i stumbled into the gate of an old convent, have murmured involuntarily, "after all, these missionaries are happy fellows." every stranger, upon his arrival in smyrna, is introduced at the casino. i went there the first time to a concert. it is a large building, erected by a club of merchants, with a suite of rooms on the lower floor, billiards, cards, reading and sitting room, and a ball room above covering the whole. the concert was given in the ballroom, and, from what i had seen in the streets, i expected an extraordinary display of beauty; but i was much disappointed. the company consisted only of the aristocracy or higher mercantile classes, the families of the gentlemen composing the club, and excluded the greek and smyrniote women, among whom is found a great portion of the beauty of the place. a patent of nobility in smyrna, as in our own city, is founded upon the time since the possessor gave up selling goods, or the number of consignments he receives in the course of a year. the casino, by-the-way, is a very aristocratic institution, and sometimes knotty questions occur in its management. captains of merchant vessels are not admitted. a man came out as owner of a vessel and cargo, and also master: _quere_, could he be admitted? his consignee said yes; but the majority, not being interested in the sales of his cargo, went for a strict construction, and excluded him. the population of smyrna, professing three distinct religions, observe three different sabbaths; the mohammedans friday, the jews saturday, and the christians sunday, so that there are only four days in the week in which all the shops and bazars are open together, and there are so many fête days that these are much broken in upon. the most perfect toleration prevails, and the religious festivals of the greeks often terminate in midnight orgies which debase and degrade the christian in the eyes of the pious mussulman. on saturday morning i was roused from my bed by a loud cry and the tramp of a crowd through the street. i ran to my window, and saw a greek tearing down the street at full speed, and another after him with a drawn yataghan in his hand; the latter gained ground at every step, and, just as he turned the corner, stabbed the first in the back. he returned with the bloody poniard in his hand, followed by the crowd, and rushed into a little greek drinking-shop next door to my hotel. there was a loud noise and scuffling inside, and presently i saw him pitched out headlong into the street, and the door closed upon him. in a phrensy of passion he rushed back, and drove his yataghan with all his force into the door, stamped against it with his feet, and battered it with stones; unable to force it open, he sat down on the opposite side of the street, occasionally renewing his attack upon the door, talking violently with those inside, and sometimes the whole crowd laughing loud at the answers from within. nobody attempted to interfere. giusseppi, my host, said it was only a row among the greeks. the greek kept the street in an uproar for more than an hour, when he was secured and taken into custody. after dinner, under the escort of a merchant, a jew from trieste residing at the same hotel, i visited the jews' quarter. the jews of smyrna are the descendants of that unhappy people who were driven out from spain by the bloody persecutions of ferdinand and isabel; they still talk spanish in their families; and though comparatively secure, now, as ever, they live the victims of tyranny and oppression, ever toiling and accumulating, and ever fearing to exhibit the fruits of their industry, lest they should excite the cupidity of a rapacious master. their quarter is by far the most miserable in smyrna, and within its narrow limits are congregated more than ten thousand of "the accursed people." it was with great difficulty that i avoided wounding the feelings of my companion by remarking its filthy and disgusting appearance; and wishing to remove my unfavourable impression by introducing me to some of the best families first, he was obliged to drag me through the whole range of its narrow and dirty streets. from the external appearance of the tottering houses, i did not expect anything better within; and, out of regard to his feelings, was really sorry that i had accepted his offer to visit his people; but with the first house i entered i was most agreeably disappointed. ascending outside by a tottering staircase to the second story, within was not only neatness and comfort, but positive luxury. at one end of a spacious room was a raised platform opening upon a large latticed window, covered with rich rugs and divans along the wall. the master of the house was taking his afternoon siesta, and while we were waiting for him i expressed to my gratified companion my surprise and pleasure at the unexpected appearance of the interior. in a few minutes the master entered, and received us with the greatest hospitality and kindness. he was about thirty, with the high square cap of black felt, without any rim or border, long silk gown tied with a sash around the waist, a strongly-marked jewish face, and amiable expression. in the house of the israelite the welcome is the same as in that of the turk; and seating himself, our host clapped his hands together, and a boy entered with coffee and pipes. after a little conversation he clapped his hands again; and hearing a clatter of wooden shoes, i turned my head and saw a little girl coming across the room, mounted on high wooden sabots almost like stilts, who stepped up the platform, and with quite a womanly air took her seat on the divan. i looked at her, and thought her a pert, forward little miss, and was about asking her how old she was, when my companion told me she was our host's wife. i checked myself, but in a moment felt more than ever tempted to ask the same question; and, upon inquiring, learned that she had attained the respectable age of thirteen, and had been then two years a wife. our host told us that she had cost him a great deal of money, and the expense consisted in the outlay necessary for procuring a divorce from another wife. he did not like the other one at all; his father had married him to her, and he had great difficulty in prevailing on his father to go to the expense of getting him freed. this wife was also provided by his father, and he did not like her much at first; he had never seen her till the day of marriage, but now he began to like her very well, though she cost him a great deal for ornaments. all this time we were looking at her, and she, with a perfectly composed expression, was listening to the conversation as my companion interpreted it, and following with her eyes the different speakers. i was particularly struck with the cool, imperturbable expression of her face, and could not help thinking that, on the subject of likings and dislikings, young as she was, she might have some curious notions of her own; and since we had fallen into this little disquisition on family matters, and thinking that he had gone so far himself that i might waive delicacy, i asked him whether she liked him; he answered in that easy tone of confidence of which no idea can be given in words, "oh yes;" and when i intimated a doubt, he told me i might ask herself. but i forbore, and did not ask her, and so lost the opportunity of learning from both sides the practical operation of matches made by parents. our host sustained them; the plan saved a great deal of trouble, and wear and tear of spirit; prudent parents always selected such as were likely to suit each other; and being thrown together very young, they insensibly assimilated in tastes and habits; he admitted that he had missed it the first time, but he had hit it the second, and allowed that the system would work much better if the cost of procuring a divorce was not so great. with the highest respect, and a pressing invitation to come again, seconded by his wife, i took my leave of the self-satisfied israelite. from this we went into several other houses, in all of which the interior belied, in the same manner, their external appearance. i do not say that they were gorgeous or magnificent, but they were clean, comfortable, and striking by their oriental style of architecture and furniture; and being their sabbath, the women were in their best attire, with their heads, necks, and wrists adorned with a profusion of gold and silver ornaments. several of the houses had libraries, with old hebrew books, in which an old rabbi was reading or sometimes instructing children. in the last house a son was going through his days of mourning on the death of his father. he was lying in the middle of the floor, with his black cap on, and covered with a long black cloak. twenty or thirty friends were sitting on the floor around him, who had come in to condole with him. when we entered, neither he nor any of his friends took any notice of us, except to make room on the floor. we sat down with them. it was growing dark, and the light broke dimly through the latticed windows upon the dusky figures of the mourning israelites; and there they sat, with stern visages and long beards, the feeble remnant of a fallen people, under scorn and contumely, and persecution and oppression, holding on to the traditions received from their fathers, practising in the privacy of their houses the same rites as when the priests bore aloft the ark of the covenant, and out of the very dust in which they lie still looking for the restoration of their temporal kingdom. in a room adjoining sat the widow of the deceased, with a group of women around her, all perfectly silent; and they too took no notice of us either when we entered or when we went away. the next day the shops were shut, and the streets again thronged as on the day of my arrival. i went to church at the english chapel attached to the residence of the british consul, and heard a sermon from a german missionary. i dined at one o'clock, and, in company with mine host of the pension suisse, and a merchant of smyrna resident there, worked my way up the hill through the heart of the turks' quarter to the old castle standing alone and in ruins on its summit. we rested a little while at the foot of the castle, and looked over the city and the tops of the minarets upon the beautiful bay, and descending in the rear of the castle, we came to the river meles winding through a deep valley at the foot of the hill. this stream was celebrated in grecian poetry three thousand years ago. it was the pride of the ancient smyrneans, once washed the walls of the ancient city, and tradition says that on its banks the nymph critheis gave birth to homer. we followed it in its winding course down the valley, murmuring among evergreens. over it in two places were the ruins of aqueducts which carried water to the old city, and in one or two places it turns an overshot mill. on each side, at intervals along its banks, were oriental summer-houses, with verandahs, and balconies, and latticed windows. approaching the caravan bridge we met straggling parties, and by degrees fell into a crowd of people, franks, europeans of every nation, greeks, turks, and armenians, in all their striking costumes, sitting on benches under the shade of noble old sycamores, or on the grass, or on the river's brink, and moving among them were turks cleanly dressed, with trays of refreshments, ices, and sherbet. there was an unusual collection of greek and smyrniote women, and an extraordinary display of beauty; none of them wore hats, but the greek women a light gauze turban, and the smyrniotes a small piece of red cloth, worked with gold, secured on the top of the head by the folds of the hair, with a long tassel hanging down from it. opposite, and in striking contrast, the great turkish burying-ground, with its thick grove of gloomy cypress, approached the bank of the river. i crossed over and entered the burying-ground, and penetrated the grove of funereal trees; all around were the graves of the dead; thousands and tens of thousands who but yesterday were like the gay crowd i saw flitting through the trees, were sleeping under my feet. over some of the graves the earth was still fresh, and they who lay in them were already forgotten; but no, they were not forgotten; woman's love still remembered them, for turkish women, with long white shawls wrapped around their faces, were planting over them myrtle and flowers, believing that they were paying an acceptable tribute to the souls of the dead. i left the burying-ground and plunged once more among the crowd. it may be that memory paints these scenes brighter than they were; but, if that does not deceive me, i never saw at paris or vienna so gay and beautiful a scene, so rich in landscape and scenery, in variety of costume, and in beauty of female form and feature. we left the caravan bridge early to visit the armenian quarter, this being the best day for seeing them collectively at home; and i had not passed through the first street of their beautiful quarter before i was forcibly struck with the appearance of a people different from any i had yet seen in the east. the armenians are one of the oldest nations of the civilized world, and, amid all the revolutions of barbarian war and despotism, have maintained themselves as a cultivated people. from the time when their first chieftain fled from babylon, his native place, to escape from the tyranny of belus, king of assyria, this warlike people, occupying a mountainous country near the sources of the tigris and euphrates, battled the assyrians, medes, the persians, macedonians, and arabians, until their country was depopulated by the shah of persia. less than two millions are all that now remain of that once powerful people. commerce has scattered them, like the israelites, among all the principal nations of europe and asia, and everywhere they have preserved their stern integrity and uprightness of character. the armenian merchant is now known in every quarter of the globe, and everywhere distinguished by superior cultivation, honesty, and manners. as early as the fourth century the armenians embraced christianity; they never had any sympathy with, and always disliked and avoided, the greek christians, and constantly resisted the endeavours of the popes to bring them within the catholic pale. their doctrine differs from that of the orthodox chiefly in their admitting only one nature in christ, and believing the holy spirit to issue from the father alone. their first abode, mount ararat, is even at the present day the centre of their religious and political union. they are distinguished by a patriarchal simplicity in their domestic manners; and it was the beautiful exhibition of this trait in their character that struck me on entering their quarter at smyrna. in style and appearance their quarter is superior to any in smyrna; their streets are broad and clean; their houses large, in good order, and well painted; oriental in their style of architecture, with large balconies and latticed windows, and spacious halls running through the centre, floored with small black and white stones laid in the form of stars and other fanciful devices, and leading to large gardens in the rear, ornamented with trees, vines, shrubs, and flowers, then in full bloom and beauty. all along the streets the doors of the houses were thrown wide open, and the old armenian "knickerbockers" were sitting outside or in the doorway, in their flowing robes, grave and sedate, with long pipes and large amber mouth pieces, talking with their neighbours, while the younger members were distributed along the hall or strolling through the garden, and children climbing the trees and arbours. it was a fête day for the whole neighbourhood. all was social, and cheerful, and beautiful, without being gay or noisy, and all was open to the observation of every passer-by. my companion, an old resident of smyrna, stopped with me at the house of a large banker, whose whole family, with several neighbours young and old, were assembled in the hall. in the street the armenian ladies observe the turkish custom of wearing the shawl tied around the face so that it is difficult to see their features, though i had often admired the dignity and grace of their walk, and their propriety of manners; but in the house there was a perfect absence of all concealment; and i have seldom seen more interesting persons than the whole group of armenian ladies, and particularly the young armenian girls. they were not so dark, and wanted the bold, daring beauty of the greek, but altogether were far more attractive. the great charm of their appearance was an exceeding modesty, united with affability and elegance of manner; in fact, there was a calm and quiet loveliness about them that would have made any one of them dangerous to be shut up alone with, i.e., if a man could talk with her without an interpreter. this was one of the occasions when i numbered among the pains of life the confusion of tongues. but, notwithstanding this, the whole scene was beautiful; and, with all the simplicity of a dutchman's fireside, the style of the house, the pebbled hall, the garden, the foliage, and the oriental costumes, threw a charm around it which now, while i write, comes over me again. chapter xi. an american original.--moral changes in turkey.--wonders of steam navigation.--the march of mind.--classic localities.--sestos and abydos.--seeds of pestilence. on my return from ephesus i heard of the arrival in smyrna of two american travellers, father and son, from egypt; and the same day, at mr. langdon's, i met the father, dr. n. of mississippi. the doctor had made a long and interesting tour in egypt and the holy land, interrupted, however, by a severe attack of ophthalmia on the nile, from which he had not yet recovered, and a narrow escape from the plague at cairo. he was about fifty-five, of a strong, active, and inquiring mind; and the circumstances which had brought him to that distant country were so peculiar, that i cannot help mentioning them. he had passed all his life on the banks of the mississippi, and for many years had busied himself with speculations in regard to the creation of the world. year after year he had watched the deposites and the formation of soil on the banks of the mississippi, had visited every mound and mountain indicating any peculiar geological formation, and, unable to find any data to satisfy him, he started from his plantation directly for the banks of the nile. he possessed all the warm, high-toned feelings of the southerner, but a thorough contempt for the usages of society and everything like polish of manners. he came to new-york and embarked for havre. he had never been even to new-york before; was utterly ignorant of any language but his own; despised all foreigners, and detested their "jabber." he worked his way to marseilles with the intention of embarking for alexandria, but was taken sick, and retraced his steps directly to his plantation on the mississippi. recovering, he again set out for the nile the next year, accompanied by his son, a young man of about twenty-three, acquainted with foreign languages, and competent to profit by foreign travel. this time he was more successful, and, when i saw him, he had rambled over the pyramids and explored the ruined temples of egypt. the result of his observations had been to fortify his preconceived notions, that the age of this world far exceeds six thousand years. indeed, he was firmly persuaded that some of the temples of the nile were built more than six thousand years ago. he had sent on to smyrna enormous boxes of earth and stones, to be shipped to america, and was particularly curious on the subject of trees, having examined and satisfied himself as to the age of the olive-trees in the garden of gethsemane and the cedars of lebanon. i accompanied him to his hotel, where i was introduced to his son; and i must not forget another member of this party, who is, perhaps, already known to some of my readers by the name of paolo nuozzo, or, more familiarly, paul. this worthy individual had been travelling on the nile with two hungarian counts, who discharged him, or whom he discharged (for they differed as to the fact), at cairo. dr. n. and his son were in want, and paul entered their service as dragoman and superintendent of another man, who, they said, was worth a dozen of paul. i have a very imperfect recollection of my first interview with this original. indeed, i hardly remember him at all until my arrival at constantinople, and have only an indistinct impression of a dark, surly-looking, mustached man following at the heels of dr. n., and giving crusty answers in horrible english. before my visit to ephesus i had talked with a prussian baron of going up by land to constantinople; but on my return i found myself attacked with a recurrence of an old malady, and determined to wait for the steamboat. the day before i left smyrna, accompanied by mr. o. langdon, i went out to boujac to dine with mr. styth. the great beauty of smyrna is its surrounding country. within a few miles there are three villages, bournabat, boujac, and sediguey, occupied by franks, of which boujac is the favourite. the franks are always looking to the time of going out to their country houses, and consider their residences in their villages the most agreeable part of their year; and, from what i saw of it, nothing can be more agreeable. not more than half of them had yet moved out, but after dinner we went round and visited all who were there. they are all well acquainted, and, living in a strange and barbarous country, are drawn closer together than they would be in their own. every evening there is a reunion at some of their houses, and there is among them an absence of all unnecessary form and ceremony, without which there can be no perfect enjoyment of the true pleasures of social intercourse. these villages, too, are endeared to them as places of refuge during the repeated and prolonged visitations of the plague, the merchant going into the city every morning and returning at night, and during the whole continuance of the disease avoiding to touch any member of his family. the whole region of country around their villages is beautiful in landscape and scenery, producing the choicest flowers and fruits; the fig tree particularly growing with a luxuriance unknown in any other part of the world. but the whole of this beautiful region lies waste and uncultivated, although, if the government could be relied on, holding out, by reason of its fertility, its climate, and its facility of access, particularly now by means of steamboats, far greater inducements to european emigration than any portion of our own country. i will not impose upon the reader my speculations on this subject; my notes are burdened with them; but, in my opinion, the old world is in process of regeneration, and at this moment offers greater opportunities for enterprise than the new. on monday, accompanied by dr. n. and his son and paolo nuozzo, i embarked on board the steamboat maria dorothea for constantinople; and here follows another letter, and the last, dated from the capital of the eastern empire. constantinople, may ----, 1835. my dear ****, oh you who hope one day to roam in eastern lands, to bend your curious eyes upon the people warmed by the rising sun, come quickly, for all things are changing. you who have pored over the story of the turk; who have dreamed of him as a gloomy enthusiast, hating, spurning, and slaying all who do not believe and call upon the prophet; "one of that saintly, murderous brood, to carnage and the koran given, who think through unbelievers' blood lies their directest path to heaven;" come quickly, for that description of turk is passing away. the day has gone by when the haughty mussulman spurned and persecuted the "christian dog." a few years since it would have been at peril of a man's life to appear in many parts of turkey in a european dress; but now the european is looked upon, not only as a creature fit to live, but as a man to be respected. the sultan himself, the great head of the nation and the religion, the vicegerent of god upon earth, has taken off the turban, and all the officers of government have followed his example. the army wears a bastard european uniform, and the great study of the sultan is to introduce european customs. thanks to the infirmities of human nature, many of these customs have begun to insinuate themselves. the pious follower of the prophet has dared to raise the winecup to his lips; and in many instances, at the peril of losing his paradise of houris, has given himself up to strong drink. time was when the word of a turk was sacred as a precept of the koran; now he can no more be relied upon than a jew or a christian. he has fallen with great facility into lying, cheating, and drinking, and if the earnest efforts to change him are attended with success, perhaps we may soon add stealing and having but one wife. and all this change, this mighty fall, is ascribed by the europeans here to the destruction of the janisaries, a band of men dangerous to government, brave, turbulent, and bloody, but of indomitable pride; who were above doing little things, and who gave a high tone to the character of the whole people. if i was not bent upon a gallop, and could stop for the jogtrot of an argument, i would say that the destruction of the janisaries is a mere incidental circumstance, and that the true cause is--_steam navigation_. do not laugh, but listen. the turks have ever been a proud people, possessing a sort of peacock pride, an extravagantly good opinion of themselves, and a superlative contempt for all the rest of the world. heretofore they have had comparatively little intercourse with europeans, consequently but little opportunity of making comparisons, and consequently, again, but little means of discovering their own inferiority. but lately things have changed; the universal peace in europe and the introduction of steamboats into the mediterranean have brought the europeans and the turks comparatively close together. it seems to me that the effect of steamboats here has as yet hardly begun to be felt. there are but few of them, indifferent boats, constantly getting out of order, and running so irregularly that no reliance can be placed upon them. but still their effects are felt, their convenience is acknowledged; and, so far as my knowledge extends, they have never been introduced anywhere yet without multiplying in numbers, and driving all other vessels off the water. now the mediterranean is admirably suited to the use of steamboats; indeed, the whole of these inland waters, the mediterranean, the adriatic, the archipelago, the dardanelles, the sea of marmora, the bosphorus, and the black sea, from the straits of gibraltar to the sea of azoff, offer every facility that can be desired for steam navigation; and when we consider that the most interesting cities in the world are on the shores of these waters, i cannot but believe that in a very few years they will be, to a certain extent, covered with steamboats. at all events, i have no doubt that in two or three years you will be able to go from paris to constantinople in fifteen or twenty days; and, when that time comes, it will throw such numbers of europeans into the east as will have a sensible effect upon the manners and customs of the people. these eastern countries will be invaded by all classes of people, travellers, merchants, and mechanics, gentlemen of elegant leisure, and blacksmiths, shoemakers, tinkers, and tailors, nay, even mantuamakers, milliners, and bandboxes, the last being an incident to civilized life as yet unknown in turkey. indeed, wonderful as the effects of steamboats have been under our own eyes, we are yet to see them far more wonderful in bringing into close alliance, commercial and social, people from distant countries, of different languages and habits; in removing national prejudices, and in breaking down the great characteristic distinctions of nations. nous verrons, twenty years hence, what steamboats will have done in this part of the world! but, in standing up for steamboats, i must not fail in doing justice to the grand seignior. his highness has not always slept upon a bed of roses. he had to thank the petticoats of a female slave for saving his life when a boy, and he had hardly got upon his throne before he found that he should have a hard task to keep it. it lay between him and the janisaries. in spite of them and of the general prejudices of the people, he determined to organize an army according to european tactics. he staked his throne and his head upon the issue; and it was not until he had been pushed to the desperate expedient of unfurling the sacred standard of the prophet, parading it through the streets of constantinople, and calling upon all good mussulmans to rally round it; in short, it was not until the dead bodies of thirty thousand janisaries were floating down the bosphorus, that he found himself the master in his own dominions. since that time, either because he is fond of new things, or because he really sees farther than those around him, he is constantly endeavouring to introduce european improvements. for this purpose he invites talent, particularly mechanical and military, from every country, and has now around him europeans among his most prominent men, and directing nearly all his public works. the turks are a sufficiently intelligent people, and cannot help feeling the superiority of strangers. probably the immediate effect may be to make them prone rather to catch the faults and vices than the virtues of europeans; but afterward better things will come; they will fall into our better ways; and perhaps, though that is almost more than we dare hope for, they will embrace a better religion. but, however this may be, or whatever may be the cause, all ye who would see the turk of mohammed; the turk who swept the plains of asia, who leaned upon his bloody sword before the walls of vienna, and threatened the destruction of christendom in europe; the turk of the turban, and the pipe, and the seraglio, come quickly, for he is becoming another man. a little longer, and the great characteristic distinctions will be broken down; the long pipe, the handsome pipe-bearer, and the amber mouthpiece are gone, and oh, death to all that is beautiful in eastern romance, the walls of the seraglio are prostrated, the doors of the harem thrown open, the black eunuch and the veiled woman are no more seen, while the honest turk trudges home from a quiet tea-party stripped of his retinue of fair ones, with his one and only wife tucked under his arm, his head drooping between his shoulders, taking a lecture from his better half for an involuntary sigh to the good old days that are gone. and oh you who turn up your aristocratic noses at such parvenues as mohammed and the turks; who would go back to those distant ages which time covers with its dim and twilight glories, "when the world was fresh and young, and the great deluge still had left it green;" you who come piping-hot from college, your brains teeming with recollections of the heroic ages; who would climb mount ida, to sit in council with the gods, come quickly, also, for all things are changing. a steamboat--shade of hector, ajax, and agamemnon, forgive the sins of the day--an austrian steamboat is now splashing the island-studded ægean, and paddling the classic waters of the hellespont. oh ye princes and heroes who armed for the trojan war, and covered these waters with your thousand ships, with what pious horror must you look down from your blessed abodes upon the impious modern monster of the deep, which strips the tall mast of its flowing canvass, renders unnecessary the propitiation of the gods, and flounders on its way in spite of wind and weather! a new and unaccountable respect for the classics almost made me scorn the newfangled conveyance, though much to the comfort of wayfaring men; but sundry recollections of greek caiques, and also an apprehension that there might be those yet living who had heard me in early days speak anything but respectfully of homer, suggested to me that one man could not stem the current of the times, and that it was better for a humble individual like myself to float with the tide. this idea, too, of currents and tides made me think better of prince metternich and his steamboat; and smothering, as well as i could, my sense of shame, i sneaked on board the maria dorothea for a race to constantinople. join me, now, in this race; and if your heart does not break at going by at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour, i will whip you over a piece of the most classic ground consecrated in history, mythology, or poetry, and in less time than ever the swiftfooted achilles could have travelled it. at eleven o'clock on a bright sunny day the maria dorothea turned her back upon the city and beautiful bay of smyrna; in about two hours passed the harbour of vourla, then used as a quarantine station, the yellow plague flag floating in the city and among the shipping; and toward dark, turning the point of the gulf, came upon my old acquaintance foggi, the little harbour into which i had been twice driven by adverse winds. my greek friend happened to be on board, and, in the honesty of his heart, congratulated me upon being this time independent of the elements, without seeming to care a fig whether he profaned the memory of his ancestors in travelling by so unclassical a conveyance. if he takes it so coolly, thought i, what is it to me? they are his relations, not mine. in the evening we were moving close to the island of mytilene, the ancient lesbos, the country of sappho, alcæus, and terpander, famed for the excellence of its wine and the beauty of its women, and pre-eminently distinguished for dissipation and debauchery, the fatal plague flag now floating mournfully over its walls, marking it as the abode of pestilence and death. early in the morning i found myself opposite the promontory of lectum, now cape baba, separating the ancient troas from æolia; a little to the right, but hardly visible, were the ruins of assos, where the apostles stopped to take in paul; a little farther the ruins of alexandria troas, one of the many cities founded by alexander during his conquests in asia; to the left, at some distance in the sea, is the island of lemnos, in the songs of the poets overshadowed by the lofty olympus, the island that received vulcan after he was kicked out of heaven by jupiter. a little farther, nearer the land, is the island of tenedos, the ancient leucophrys, where paris first landed after carrying off helen, and behind which the greeks withdrew their fleet when they pretended to have abandoned the siege of troy. still farther, on the mainland, is the promontory of sigæum, where the scamander empties into the sea, and near which were fought the principal of homer's battles. a little farther--but hold, stop the engine! if there be a spot of classic ground on earth in which the historical, and the poetical, and the fabulous are so beautifully blended together that we would not separate them even to discover the truth, it is before us now. extending for a great distance along the shore, and back as far as the eye can reach, under the purest sky that ever overshadowed the earth, lies a rich and beautiful plain, and it is the plain of troy, the battle-ground of heroes. oh field of glory and of blood, little does he know, that surly turk who is now lazily following his plough over thy surface, that every blade of thy grass could tell of heroic deeds, the shock of armies, the meeting of war chariots, the crashing of armour, the swift flight, the hot pursuit, the shouts of victors, and the groans of the dying. beyond it, towering to the heavens, is a lofty mountain, and it is mount ida, on whose top paris adjudged the golden apple to the goddess of beauty, and paved the way for those calamities which brought on the ten years' siege, and laid in ruins the ancient city of priam. two small streams, taking their rise from the mountain of the gods, join each other in the middle of the plain; scamander and simois, whose waters once washed the walls of the ancient city of dardanus; and that small, confused, and shapeless mass of ruins, that beautiful sky and the songs of homer, are all that remain to tell us that "troy was." close to the sea, and rising like mountains above the plain, are two immense mounds of earth; they are the tombs of ajax and achilles. shades of departed heroes, fain would we stop and pay the tribute which we justly owe, but we are hurried past by an engine of a hundred horse power. onward, still onward! we have reached the ancient hellespont, the dardanelles of the turks, famed as the narrow water that divides europe from asia, for the beauties that adorn its banks, and for its great turkish fortifications. three miles wide at the mouth, it becomes gradually narrower, until, in the narrowest part, the natives of europe and asia can talk together from the opposite sides. for sixty miles (its whole length) it presents a continued succession of new beauties, and in the hands of europeans, particularly english, improved as country seats, would make one of the loveliest countries in the world. i had just time to reflect that it was melancholy, and seemed inexplicable that this and other of the fairest portions of the earth should be in the hands of the turks, who neither improve it themselves nor allow others to do so. at three o'clock we arrived at the dardanelles, a little turkish town in the narrowest and most beautiful part of the straits; a strong fort with enormous cannon stands frowning on each side. these are the terrible fortifications of mohammed ii., the keys of constantinople. the guns are enormous; of one in particular, the muzzle is two feet three inches in diameter; but, with turkish ingenuity, they are so placed as to be discharged when a ship is directly opposite. if the ship is not disabled by the first fire, and does not choose to go back and take another, she is safe. at every moment a new picture presents itself; a new fort, a new villa, or the ruins of an ancient city. a naked point on the european side, so ugly compared with all around it as to attract particular attention, projects into the strait, and here are the ruins of sestos; here xerxes built his bridge of boats to carry over his millions to the conquest of greece; and here, when he returned with the wreck of his army, defeated and disgraced, found his bridge destroyed by a tempest, and, in his rage, ordered the chains to be thrown into the sea and the waves to be lashed with rods. from this point, too, leander swam the hellespont for love of hero, and lord byron and mr. ekenhead for fun. nearly opposite, close to a turkish fort, are the ruins of abydos. here xerxes, and leander, and lord byron, and mr. ekenhead landed. our voyage is drawing to a close. at gallipoli, a large turkish town handsomely situated at the mouth of the dardanelles, we took on board the turkish governor, with his pipe-bearer and train of attendants, escorted by thirty or forty boats, containing three or four hundred people, his mightiness taking a deck passage. toward evening we were entering the sea of marmora, the ancient propontis, like one of our small lakes, and i again went to sleep lulled by the music of a high-pressure engine. at daylight we were approaching constantinople; twelve miles this side, on the bank of the sea of marmora, is the village of st. stephano, the residence of commodore porter. here the domes and minarets of the ancient city, with their golden points and glittering crescents, began to appear in sight. high above the rest towered the mosque of sultan achmet and the beautiful dome of st. sophia, the ancient christian church, but now, for nearly four hundred years, closed against the christians' feet. we approach the walls and pass a range of gloomy turrets; there are the seven towers, prisons, portals of the grave, whose mysteries few live to publish: the bowstring and the sea reveal no secrets. that palace, with its blinded windows and its superb garden, surrounded by a triple range of walls, is the far-famed seraglio; there beauty lingers in a splendid cage, and, lolling on her rich divan, sighs for the humblest lot and freedom. in front, that narrow water, a thousand caiques shooting through it like arrows, and its beautiful banks covered with high palaces and gardens in the oriental style, is the thracian bosphorus. we float around the walls of the seraglio, enter the golden horn, and before us, with its thousand mosques and its myriad of minarets, their golden points glittering in the sun, is the roman city of constantinople, the thracian byzantium, the stamboul of the turks; the city which, more than all others, excites the imagination and interests the feelings; once dividing with rome the empire of the world; built by a christian emperor and consecrated as a christian city, a "burning and a shining light" in a season of universal darkness, all at once lost to the civilized world; falling into the hands of a strange and fanatic people, the gloomy followers of a successful soldier; a city which, for nearly four centuries, has sat with its gates closed in sullen distrust and haughty defiance of strangers; which once sent forth large and terrible armies, burning, slaying, and destroying, shaking the hearts of princes and people, now lying like a fallen giant, huge, unwieldy, and helpless, ready to fall into the hands of the first invader, and dragging out a precarious and ignoble existence but by the mercy or policy of the great christian powers. the morning sun, now striking upon its domes and minarets, covers it, as it were, with burnished gold; a beautiful verdure surrounds it, and pure waters wash it on every side. can this beautiful city, rich with the choicest gifts of heaven, be pre-eminently the abode of pestilence and death? where a man carries about with him the seeds of disease to all whom he holds dear? if he extend the hand of welcome to a friend, if he embrace his child or rub against a stranger, the friend, and the child, and the stranger follow him to the grave? where, year after year, the angel of death stalks through the streets, and thousands and tens of thousands look him calmly in the face, and murmuring "allah, allah, god is merciful," with a fatal trust in the prophet, lie down and die? we enter the city, and these questions are quickly answered. a lazy, lounging, and filthy population; beggars basking in the sun, and dogs licking their sores; streets never cleaned but by the winds and rains; immense burying-grounds all over the city; tombstones at the corners of the streets; graves gaping ready to throw out their half-buried dead, the whole approaching to one vast charnel-house, dispel all illusions and remove all doubts, and we are ready to ask ourselves if it be possible that, in such a place, health can ever dwell. we wonder that it should ever, for the briefest moment, be free from that dreadful scourge which comes with every summer's sun and strews its streets with dead. **** chapter xii. mr. churchill.--commodore porter.--castle of the seven towers.--the sultan's naval architect.--launch of the great ship.--sultan mahmoud.--jubilate.--a national grievance.--visit to a mosque.--the burial-grounds. there is a good chance for an enterprising connecticut man to set up a hotel in constantinople. the reader will see that i have travelled with my eyes open, and i trust this shrewd observation on entering the city of the cæsars will be considered characteristic and american. paul was at home in pera, and conducted us to the hotel d'italia, which was so full that we could not get admission, and so vile a place that we were not sorry for it. we then went to madame josephine's, a sort of private boarding-house, but excellent of its kind. we found there a collection of travellers, english, french, german, and russian, and the dinner was particularly social; but dr. n. was so disgusted with the clatter of foreign tongues, that he left the table with the first course, and swore he would not stay there another day. we tried to persuade him. i reminded him that there was an englishman among them, but this only made him worse; he hated an englishman, and wondered how i, as an american, could talk with one as i had with him. in short, he was resolved, and had paul running about every street in pera looking for rooms. notwithstanding his impracticabilities as a traveller, i liked the doctor, and determined to follow him, and before breakfast the next morning we were installed in a suite of rooms in the third story of a house opposite the old palace of the british ambassador. for two or three days i was _hors du combat_, and put myself under the hands of dr. zohrab, an armenian, educated at edinburgh, whom i cordially recommend both for his kindness and medical skill. on going out, one of my first visits was to my banker, mr. churchill, a gentleman whose name has since rung throughout europe, and who at one time seemed likely to be the cause of plunging the whole civilized world into a war. he was then living in sedikuey, on the site of the ancient chalcedon, in asia; and i have seldom been more shocked than by reading in a newspaper, while in the lazaretto at malta, that, having accidentally shot a turkish boy with a fowling-piece, he had been seized by the turks, and, in defiance of treaties, _bastinadoed_ till he was almost dead. i had seen the infliction of that horrible punishment; and, besides the physical pain, there was a sense of the indignity that roused every feeling. i could well imagine the ferocious spirit with which the turks would stand around and see a christian scourged. the civilized world owes a deep debt of gratitude to the english government for the uncompromising stand taken in this matter with the sultan, and the firmness with which it insisted on, and obtained, the most ample redress for mr. churchill, and atonement for the insult offered to all christendom in his person. my companions and myself had received several invitations from commodore porter, and, accompanied by mr. dwight, one of our american missionaries, to whom i am under particular obligations for his kindness, early in the morning we took a caique with three athletic turks, and, after a beautiful row, part of it from the seraglio point to the seven towers, a distance of five miles, being close under the walls of the city, in two hours reached the commodore's residence at st. stephano, twelve miles from constantinople, on the borders of the sea of marmora. the situation is beautiful, abounding in fruit-trees, among which are some fig trees of the largest size; and the commodore was then engaged in building a large addition to his house. it will be remembered that commodore porter was the first envoy ever sent by the united states' government to the sublime porte. he had formerly lived at buyukdere, on the bosphorus, with the other members of the diplomatic corps; but his salary as chargé being inadequate to sustain a becoming style, he had withdrawn to this place. i had never seen commodore porter before. i afterward passed a month with him in the lazaretto at malta, and i trust he will not consider me presuming when i say that our acquaintance ripened into friendship. he is entirely different from the idea i had formed of him; small, dark, weather-beaten, much broken in health, and remarkably mild and quiet in his manners. his eye is his best feature, though even that does not indicate the desperate hardihood of character which he has exhibited on so many occasions. perhaps i ought not to say so, but he seemed ill at ease in his position, and i could not but think that he ought still to be standing in the front rank of that service he so highly honoured. he spoke with great bitterness of the foxardo affair, and gave me an account of an interesting interview between general jackson and himself on his recall from south america. general jackson wished him to resume his rank in the navy, but he answered that he would never accept service with men who had suspended him for doing what, they said in their sentence of condemnation, was done "to sustain the honour of the american flag." at the primitive hour of one we sat down to a regular family dinner. we were all americans. the commodore's sister, who was living with him, presided, and we looked out on the sea of marmora and talked of home. i cannot describe the satisfaction of these meetings of americans so far from their own country. i have often experienced it most powerfully in the houses of the missionaries in the east. besides having, in many instances, the same acquaintances, we had all the same habits and ways of thinking; their articles of furniture were familiar to me, and there was scarcely a house in which i did not find an article unknown except among americans, a boston rocking-chair. we talked over the subject of our difficulties with france, then under discussion in the chamber of deputies, and i remember that commodore porter was strong in the opinion that the bill paying the debt would pass. before rising from table, the commodore's janisary came down from constantinople, with papers and letters just arrived by the courier from paris. he told me that i should have the honour of breaking the seals, and i took out the paper so well known all over europe, "galignani's messenger," and had the satisfaction of reading aloud, in confirmation of the commodore's opinion, that the bill for paying the american claims had passed the chamber of deputies by a large majority. [illustration: castle of the seven towers.] about four o'clock we embarked in our caique to return to constantinople. in an hour mr. d. and i landed at the foot of the seven towers, and few things in this ancient city interested me more than my walk around its walls. we followed them the whole extent on the land side, from the sea of marmora to the golden horn. they consist of a triple range, with five gates, the principal of which is the cannon gate, through which mohammed ii. made his triumphal entry into the christian city. they have not been repaired since the city fell into the hands of the turks, and are the same walls which procured for it the proud name of the "well-defended city;" to a great extent, they are the same walls which the first constantine built and the last constantine died in defending. time has laid his ruining hand upon them, and they are everywhere weak and decaying, and would fall at once before the thunder of modern war. the moat and fossé have alike lost their warlike character, and bloom and blossom with the vine and fig tree. beyond, hardly less interesting than the venerable walls, and extending as far as the eye can reach, is one continued burying-ground, with thousands and tens of thousands of turbaned headstones, shaded by thick groves of the mourning cypress. opposite the damascus gate is an elevated enclosure, disconnected from all around, containing five headstones in a row, over the bodies of ali pacha, the rebel chief of yanina, and his four sons. the fatal mark of death by the bowstring is conspicuous on the tombs, as a warning to rebels that they cannot escape the sure vengeance of the porte. it was toward the sunset of a beautiful evening, and all stamboul was out among the tombs. at dark we reached the golden horn, crossed over in a caique, and in a few minutes were in pera. the next day i took a caique at tophana, and went up to the shipyards at the head of the golden horn to visit mr. rhodes, to whom i had a letter from a friend in smyrna. mr. rhodes is a native of long island, but from his boyhood a resident of this city, and i take great pleasure in saying that he is an honour to our state and country. the reader will remember that, some years ago, mr. eckford, one of our most prominent citizens, under a pressure of public and domestic calamities, left his native city. he sailed from new-york in a beautiful corvette, its destination unknown, and came to anchor under the walls of the seraglio in the harbour of constantinople. the sultan saw her, admired her, and bought her; and i saw her "riding like a thing of life" on the waters of the golden horn, a model of beauty. the fame of his skill, and the beautiful specimen he carried out with him, recommended mr. eckford to the sultan as a fit instrument to build up the character of the ottoman navy; and afterward, when his full value became known, the sultan remarked of him that america must be a great nation if she could spare from her service such a man. had he lived, even in the decline of life he would have made for himself a reputation in that distant quarter of the globe equal to that he had left behind him, and doubtless would have reaped the attendant pecuniary reward. mr. rhodes went out as mr. eckford's foreman, and on his death the task of completing his employer's work devolved on him. it could not have fallen upon a better man. from a journeyman shipbuilder, all at once mr. rhodes found himself brought into close relations with the seraskier pacha, the reis effendi, the grand vizier, and the sultan himself; but his good sense never deserted him. he was then preparing for the launch of the great ship; the longest, as he said, and he knew the dimensions of every ship that floated, in the world. i accompanied him over the ship and through the yards, and it was with no small degree of interest that i viewed a townsman, an entire stranger in the country, by his skill alone standing at the head of the great naval establishment of the sultan. he was dressed in a blue roundabout jacket, without whiskers or mustache, and, except that he wore the tarbouch, was thorough american in his appearance and manners, while his dragoman was constantly by his side, communicating his orders to hundreds of mustached turks, and in the same breath he was talking with me of shipbuilders in new-york, and people and things most familiar in our native city. mr. rhodes knows and cares but little for things that do not immediately concern him; his whole thoughts are of his business, and in that he possesses an ambition and industry worthy of all praise. as an instance of his discretion, particularly proper in the service of that suspicious and despotic government, i may mention that, while standing near the ship and remarking a piece of cloth stretched across her stern, i asked him her name, and he told me he did not know; that it was painted on her stern, and his dragoman knew, but he had never looked under, that he might not be able to answer when asked. i have seldom met a countryman abroad with whom i was more pleased, and at parting he put himself on a pinnacle in my estimation by telling me that, if i came to the yard the next day at one, i would see the sultan! there was no man living whom i had a greater curiosity to see. at twelve o'clock i was at the yard, but the sultan did not come. i went again, and his highness had come two hours before the time; had accompanied mr. rhodes over the ship, and left the yard less than five minutes before my arrival; his caique was still lying at the little dock, his attendants were carrying trays of refreshments to a shooting-ground in the rear, and two black eunuchs belonging to the seraglio, handsomely dressed in long black cloaks of fine pelisse cloth, with gold-headed canes and rings on their fingers, were still lingering about the ship, their effeminate faces and musical voices at once betraying their neutral character. the next was the day of the launch; and early in the morning, in the suite of commodore porter, i went on board an old steamer provided by the sultan expressly for the use of mr. rhodes's american friends. the waters of the golden horn were already covered; thousands of caiques, with their high sharp points, were cutting through it, or resting like gulls upon its surface; and there were ships with the still proud banner of the crescent, and strangers with the flags of every nation in christendom, and sailboats, longboats, and rowboats, ambassadors' barges, and caiques of effendis, beys, and pachas, with red silk flags streaming in the wind, while countless thousands were assembled on the banks to behold the extraordinary spectacle of an american ship, the largest in the world, launched in the harbour of old stamboul. the sultan was then living at his beautiful palace at sweet waters, and was obliged to pass by our boat; he had made a great affair of the launch; had invited all the diplomatic corps, and, through the reis effendi, particularly requested the presence of commodore porter; had stationed his harem on the opposite side of the river; and as i saw prepared for himself near the ship a tent of scarlet cloth trimmed with gold, i expected to see him appear in all the pomp and splendour of the greatest potentate on earth. i had already seen enough to convince me that the days of eastern magnificence had gone by, or that the gorgeous scenes which my imagination had always connected with the east had never existed; but still i could not divest myself of the lingering idea of the power and splendour of the sultan. his commanding style to his own subjects: "i command you, ----, my slave, that you bring the head of ----, my slave, and lay it at my feet;" and then his lofty tone with foreign powers: "i, who am, by the infinite grace of the great, just, and all-powerful creator, and the abundance of the miracles of the chief of his prophets, emperor of powerful emperors; refuge of sovereigns; distributor of crowns to the kings of the earth; keeper of the two very holy cities (mecca and medina); governor of the holy city of jerusalem; master of europe, asia, and africa, conquered with our victorious sword and our terrible lance; lord of two seas (black and white); of damascus, the odour of paradise; of bagdad, the seat of the califs; of the fortresses of belgrade, agra, and a multitude of countries, isles, straits, people, generations, and of so many victorious armies who repose under the shade of our sublime porte; i, in short, who am the shadow of god upon earth;" i was rolling these things through my mind when a murmur, "the sultan is coming," turned me to the side of the boat, and one view dispelled all my gorgeous fancies. there was no style, no state, a citizen king, a republican president, or a democratic governor, could not have made a more unpretending appearance than did this "shadow of god upon earth." he was seated in the bottom of a large caique, dressed in the military frockcoat and red tarbouch, with his long black beard, the only mark of a turk about him, and he moved slowly along the vacant space cleared for his passage, boats with the flags of every nation, and thousands of caiques falling back, and the eyes of the immense multitude earnestly fixed upon him, but without any shouts or acclamations; and when he landed at the little dock, and his great officers bowed to the dust before him, he looked the plainest, mildest, kindest man among them. i had wished to see him as a wholesale murderer, who had more blood upon his hands than any man living; who had slaughtered the janisaries, drenched the plains of greece, to say nothing of bastinadoes, impalements, cutting off heads, and tying up in sacks, which are taking place every moment; but i will not believe that sultan mahmoud finds any pleasure in shedding blood. dire necessity, or, as he himself would say, fate, has ever been driving him on. i look upon him as one of the most interesting characters upon earth; as the creature of circumstances, made bloody and cruel by the necessities of his position. i look at his past life and at that which is yet in store for him, through all the stormy scenes he is to pass until he completes his unhappy destiny, the last of a powerful and once-dreaded race, bearded by those who once crouched at the footstool of his ancestors, goaded by rebellious vassals, conscious that he is going a downward road, and yet unable to resist the impulse that drives him on. like the strong man encompassed with a net, he finds no avenue of escape, and cannot break through it. the seraskier pacha and other principal officers escorted him to his tent, and now all the interest which i had taken in the sultan was transferred to mr. rhodes. he had great anxiety about the launch, and many difficulties to contend with: first, in the turks' jealousy of a stranger, which obliged him to keep constantly on the watch lest some of his ropes should be cut or fastenings knocked away; and he had another turkish prejudice to struggle against: the day had been fixed twice before, but the astronomers found an unfortunate conjunction of the stars, and it was postponed, and even then the stars were unpropitious; but mr. rhodes had insisted that the work had gone so far that it could not be stopped. and, besides these, he had another great difficulty in his ignorance of their language. with more than a thousand men under him, all his orders had to pass through interpreters, and often, too, the most prompt action was necessary, and the least mistake might prove fatal. fortunately, he was protected from treachery by the kindness of mr. churchill and dr. zohrab, one of whom stood on the bow and the other in the stern of the ship, and through whom every order was transmitted in turkish. probably none there felt the same interest that we did; for the flags of the barbarian and every nation in christendom were waving around us, and at that distance from home the enterprise of a single citizen enlisted the warmest feelings of every american. we watched the ship with as keen an interest as if our own honour and success in life depended upon her movements. for a long time she remained perfectly quiet. at length she moved, slowly and almost imperceptibly; and then, as if conscious that the eyes of an immense multitude were on her, and that the honour of a distant nation was in some measure at stake, she marched proudly to the water, plunged in with a force that almost buried her, and, rising like a huge leviathan, parted the foaming waves with her bow, and rode triumphantly upon them. even mussulman indifference was disturbed; all petty jealousies were hushed; the whole immense mass was roused into admiration; loud and long-continued shouts of applause rose with one accord from turks and christians, and the sultan was so transported that he jumped up and clapped his hands like a schoolboy. mr. rhodes's triumph was complete; the sultan called him to his tent, and with his own hands fixed on the lappel of his coat a gold medal set in diamonds, representing the launching of a ship. mr. rhodes has attained among strangers the mark of every honourable man's ambition, the head of his profession. he has put upon the water what commodore porter calls the finest ship that ever floated, and has a right to be proud of his position and prospects under the "shade of the sublime porte." the sultan wishes to confer upon him the title of chief naval constructor, and to furnish him with a house and a caique with four oars. in compliment to his highness, who detests a hat, mr. rhodes wears the tarbouch; but he declines all offices and honours, and anything that may tend to fix him as a turkish subject, and looks to return and enjoy in his own country and among his own people the fruits of his honourable labours. if the good wishes of a friend can avail him, he will soon return to our city rich with the profits of untiring industry, and an honourable testimony to his countrymen of the success of american skill and enterprise abroad. to go back a moment. all day the great ship lay in the middle of the golden horn, while perhaps more than a hundred thousand turks shot round her in their little caiques, looking up from the surface of the water to her lofty deck: and in pera, wherever i went, perhaps because i was an american, the only thing i heard of was the american ship. proud of the admiration excited so far from home by this noble specimen of the skill of an american citizen, i unburden myself of a long-smothered subject of complaint against my country. i cry out with a loud voice for _reform_, not in the hackneyed sense of petty politicians, but by a liberal and enlarged expenditure of public money; by increasing the outfits and salaries of our foreign ambassadors and ministers. we claim to be rich, free from debt, and abundant in resources, and yet every american abroad is struck with a feeling of mortification at the inability of his representative to take that position in social life to which the character of his country entitles him. we may talk of republican simplicity as we will, but there are certain usages of society and certain appendages of rank which, though they may be unmeaning and worthless, are sanctioned, if not by the wisdom, at least by the practice of all civilized countries. we have committed a fatal error since the time when franklin appeared at the court of france in a plain citizen's dress; everywhere our representative conforms to the etiquette of the court to which he is accredited, and it is too late to go back and begin anew; and now, unless our representative is rich and willing to expend his own fortune for the honour of the nation, he is obliged to withdraw from the circles and position in which he has a right and ought to move, or to move in them on an inferior footing, under an acknowledgment of inability to appear as an equal. and again: our whole consular system is radically wrong, disreputable, and injurious to our character and interests. while other nations consider the support of their consuls a part of the expenses of their government, we suffer ourselves to be represented by merchants, whose pecuniary interests are mixed up with all the local and political questions that affect the place and who are under a strong inducement to make their office subservient to their commercial relations. i make no imputations against any of them. i could not if i would, for i do not know an american merchant holding the office who is not a respectable man; but the representative of our country ought to be the representative of our country only; removed from any distracting or conflicting interests, standing like a watchman to protect the honour of his nation and the rights of her citizens. and more than this, all over the mediterranean there are ports where commerce presents no inducements to the american merchant, and there the office falls into the hands of the natives; and at this day the american arms are blazoned on the doors, and the american flag is waving over the houses, of greeks, italians, jews, and arabs, and all the mongrel population of that inland sea; and in the ports under the dominion of turkey particularly, the office is coveted as a means of protecting the holder against the liabilities to his own government, and of revenue by selling that protection to others. i will not mention them by name, for i bear them no ill will personally, and i have received kindness from most of the petty vagabonds who live under the folds of the american flag; but the consuls at gendoa and algiers are a disgrace to the american name. congress has lately turned its attention to this subject, and will, before long, i hope, effect a complete change in the character of our consular department, and give it the respectability which it wants; the only remedy is by following the example of other nations, in fixing salaries to the office, and forbidding the holders to engage in trade. besides the leading inducements to this change, there is a secondary consideration, which, in my eyes, is not without its value, in that it would furnish a valuable school of instruction for our young men. the offices would be sought by such. a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars a year would maintain them respectably, in most of the ports of the mediterranean, and young men resident in those places, living upon salaries, and not obliged to engage in commerce, would employ their leisure hours in acquiring the language of the country, in communicating with the interior, and among them would return upon us an accumulation of knowledge far more than repaying us for all the expense of supporting them abroad. doubtless the reader expects other things in constantinople; but all things are changing. the day has gone by when the christian could not cross the threshold of a mosque and live. even the sacred mosque of st. sophia, the ancient christian church, so long closed against the christians' feet, now, upon great occasions, again opens its doors to the descendants of its christian builders. one of these great occasions happened while i was there. the sultan gave a firman to the french ambassador, under which all the european residents and travellers visited it. unfortunately, i was unwell, and could not go out that day, and was obliged afterward to content myself with walking around its walls, with uplifted eyes and a heavy heart, admiring the glittering crescent and thinking of the prostrate cross. but no traveller can leave constantinople without having seen the interior of a mosque; and accordingly, under the guidance of mustapha, the janisary of the british consul, i visited the mosque of sultan suliman, next in point of beauty to that of st. sophia, though far inferior in historical interest. at an early hour we crossed the golden horn to old stamboul; threaded our way through its narrow and intricate streets to an eminence near the seraskier pacha's tower; entered by a fine gateway into a large courtyard, more than a thousand feet square, handsomely paved and ornamented with noble trees, and enclosed by a high wall; passed a marble fountain of clear and abundant water, where, one after another, the faithful stopped to make their ablutions; entered a large colonnade, consisting of granite and marble pillars of every form and style, the plunder of ancient temples, worked in without much regard to architectural fitness, yet, on the whole, producing a fine effect; pulled off our shoes at the door, and, with naked feet and noiseless step, crossed the sacred threshold of the mosque. silently we moved among the kneeling figures of the faithful scattered about in different parts of the mosque and engaged in prayer; paused for a moment under the beautiful dome sustained by four columns from the temple of diana at ephesus; leaned against a marble pillar which may have supported, two thousand years ago, the praying figure of a worshipper of the great goddess; gazed at the thousand small lamps suspended from the lofty ceiling, each by a separate cord, and with a devout feeling left the mosque. [illustration: mosque of sultan suliman.] in the rear, almost concealed from view by a thick grove of trees, shrubs, and flowers, is a circular building about forty feet in diameter, containing the tomb of suliman, the founder of the mosque, his brother, his favourite wife roxala, and two other wives. the monuments are in the form of sarcophagi, with pyramidal tops, covered with rich cashmere shawls, having each at the head a large white turban, and enclosed by a railing covered with mother-of-pearl. the great beauty of the sepulchral chamber is its dome, which is highly ornamented, and sparkles with brilliants. in one corner is a plan of mecca, the holy temple, and tomb of the prophet. in the afternoon i went for the last time to the armenian burying-ground. in the east the graveyards are the general promenades, the places of rendezvous, and the lounging-places; and in constantinople the armenian burying-ground is the most beautiful, and the favourite. situated in the suburbs of pera, overlooking the bosphorus, shaded by noble palm-trees, almost regularly toward evening i found myself sitting upon the same tombstone, looking upon the silvery water at my feet, studded with palaces, flashing and glittering with caiques from the golden palace of the sultan to the seraglio point, and then turned to the animated groups thronging the burying-ground; the armenian in his flowing robes, the dashing greek, the stiff and out-of-place-looking frank; turks in their gay and bright costume, glittering arms, and solemn beards, enjoying the superlative of existence in dozing over their pipe; and women in long white veils, apart under some delightful shade, in little picnic parties, eating ices and confectionary. here and there, toward the outskirts, was the araba, the only wheeled carriage known among the turks, with a long low body, highly carved and gilded, drawn by oxen fancifully trimmed with ribands, and filled with soft cushions, on which the turkish and armenian ladies almost buried themselves. instead of the cypress, the burying-ground is shaded by noble plane-trees; and the tombstones, instead of being upright, are all flat, having at the head a couple of little niches scooped out to hold water, with the beautiful idea to induce birds to come there and drink and sing among the trees. their tombstones, too, have another mark, which, in a country where men are apt to forget who their fathers were, would exclude them even from that place where all mortal distinctions are laid low, viz., a mark indicating the profession or occupation of the deceased; as, a pair of shears to mark the grave of a tailor; a razor that of a barber; and on many of them was another mark indicating the manner of death, the bowstring, or some other mark, showing that the stone covered a victim of turkish cruelty. but all these things are well known; nothing has escaped the prying eyes of curious travellers; and i merely state, for my own credit's sake, that i followed the steps of those who had gone before me, visited the sweet waters, scutary, and belgrade, the reservoirs, aqueducts, and ruins of the palace of constantine, and saw the dancing dervishes; rowed up the bosphorus to buyukdere, lunched under the tree where godfrey encamped with his gallant crusaders, and looked out upon the black sea from the top of the giant's mountain. chapter xiii. visit to the slave-market.--horrors of slavery.--departure from stamboul.--the stormy euxine.--odessa.--the lazaretto.--russian civility.--returning good for evil. the day before i left constantinople i went, in company with dr. n. and his son, and attended by paul, to visit the slave-market; crossing over to stamboul, we picked up a jew in the bazars, who conducted us through a perfect labyrinth of narrow streets to a quarter of the city from which it would have been utterly impossible for me to extricate myself alone. i only know that it was situated on high ground, and that we passed through a gateway into a hollow square of about a hundred and fifty or two hundred feet on each side. it was with no small degree of emotion that i entered this celebrated place, where so many christian hearts have trembled; and, before crossing the threshold, i ran over in my mind all the romantic stories and all the horrible realities that i could remember connected with its history: the tears of beauty, the pangs of brave men, and so down to the unsentimental exclamation of johnson to his new friend don juan: "yon black eunuch seems to eye us; i wish to god that somebody would buy us." the bazar forms a hollow square, with little chambers about fifteen feet each way around it, in which the slaves belonging to the different dealers are kept. a large shed or portico projects in front, under which, and in front of each chamber, is a raised platform, with a low railing around it, where the slave-merchant sits and gossips, and dozes over his coffee and pipes. i had heard so little of this place, and it was so little known among europeans, taking into consideration, moreover, that in a season of universal peace the market must be without a supply of captives gained in war, that i expected to see but a remnant of the ancient traffic, supposing that i should find but few slaves, and those only black; but, to my surprise, i found there twenty or thirty white women. bad, horrible as this traffic is under any circumstances, to my habits and feelings it loses a shade of its horrors when confined to blacks; but here whites and blacks were exposed together in the same bazar. the women were from circassia and the regions of the caucasus, that country so renowned for beauty; they were dressed in the turkish costume, with the white shawl wrapped around the mouth and chin, and over the forehead, shading the eyes, so that it was difficult to judge with certainty as to their personal appearance. europeans are not permitted to purchase, and their visits to this bazar are looked upon with suspicion. if we stopped long opposite a door, it was closed upon us; but i was not easily shaken off, and returned so often at odd times, that i succeeded in seeing pretty distinctly all that was to be seen. in general, the best slaves are not exposed in the bazars, but are kept at the houses of the dealers; but there was one among them not more than seventeen, with a regular circassian face, a brilliantly fair complexion, a mild and cheerful expression; and in the slave-market, under the partial disguise of the turkish shawl, it required no great effort of the imagination to make her decidedly beautiful. paul stopped, and with a burst of enthusiasm, the first i had discovered in him, exclaimed "quelle beauté!" she noticed my repeatedly stopping before her bazar; and, when i was myself really disposed to be sentimental, instead of drooping her head with the air of a distressed heroine, to my great surprise she laughed and nodded, and beckoned me to come to her. paul was very much struck; and repeating his warm expression of admiration at her beauty, told me that she wanted me to buy her. without waiting for a reply, he went off and inquired the price, which was two hundred and fifty dollars; and added that he could easily get some turk to let me buy her in his name, and then i could put her on board a vessel, and carry her where i pleased. i told him it was hardly worth while at present; and he, thinking my objection was merely to the person, in all honesty and earnestness told me he had been there frequently, and never saw anything half so handsome; adding that, if i let slip this opportunity, i would scarcely have another as good, and wound up very significantly by declaring that, if he was a gentleman, he would not hesitate a moment. a gentleman, in the sense in which paul understood the word, is apt to fall into irregular ways in the east. removed from the restraints which operate upon men in civilized countries, if he once breaks through the trammels of education, he goes all lengths; and it is said to be a matter of general remark, that slaves are always worse treated by europeans than by the turks. the slave-dealers are principally jews, who buy children when young, and, if they have beauty train up the girls in such accomplishments as may fascinate the turks. our guide told us that, since the greek revolution, the slave-market had been comparatively deserted; but, during the whole of that dreadful struggle, every day presented new horrors; new captives were brought in, the men raving and struggling, and vainly swearing eternal vengeance against the turks, and the women shrieking distractedly in the agony of a separation. after the massacre at scio, in particular, hundreds of young girls, with tears streaming down their cheeks, and bursting hearts, were sold to the unhallowed embraces of the turks for a few dollars a head. we saw nothing of the horrors and atrocities of this celebrated slave-market. indeed, except prisoners of war and persons captured by turkish corsairs, the condition of those who now fill the slave-market is not the horrible lot that a warm imagination might suppose. they are mostly persons in a semibarbarous state; blacks from sennaar and abyssinia, or whites from the regions of the caucasus, bought from their parents for a string of beads or a shawl; and, in all probability, the really beautiful girl whom i saw had been sold by parents who could not feed or clothe her, who considered themselves rid of an encumbrance, and whom she left without regret; and she, having left poverty and misery behind her, looked to the slave-market as the sole means of advancing her fortune; and, in becoming the favoured inmate of a harem, expected to attain a degree of happiness she could never have enjoyed at home. i intended to go from constantinople to egypt, but the plague was raging there so violently that it would have been foolhardy to attempt it; and while making arrangements with a tartar to return to europe on horseback across the balkan, striking the danube at semlin and belgrade, a russian government steamer was advertised for odessa; and as this mode of travelling at that moment suited my health better, i altered my whole plan, and determined to leave the ruined countries of the old world for a land just emerging from a state of barbarism, and growing into gigantic greatness. with great regret i took leave of dr. n. and his son, who sailed the same day for smyrna, and i have never seen them since. paul was the last man to whom i said farewell. at the moment of starting my shirts were brought in dripping wet, and paul bestowed a malediction upon the greek while he wrung them out and tumbled them into my carpet-bag. i afterward found him at malta, whence he accompanied me on my tour in egypt, arabia petræa, and the holy land, by which he is, perhaps, already known to some of my readers. with my carpet-bag on the shoulders of a turk, i walked for the last time to tophana. a hundred caiquemen gathered around me, but i pushed them all back, and kept guard over my carpet-bag, looking out for one whom i had been in the habit of employing ever since my arrival in constantinople. he soon spied me; and when he took my luggage and myself into his caique, manifested that he knew it was for the last time. having an hour to spare, i directed him to row once more under the walls of the seraglio; and still loath to leave, i went on shore and walked around the point, until i was stopped by a turkish bayonet. the turk growled, and his mustache curled fiercely as he pointed it at me. i had been stopped by frenchmen, italians, and by a mountain greek, but found nothing that brings a man to such a dead stand as the turkish bayonet. i returned to my caique, and went on board the steamer. she was a russian government vessel, more classically called a pyroscaphe, a miserable old thing; and yet as much form and circumstance were observed in sending her off as in fitting out an _exploring expedition_. consuls' and ambassadors' boats were passing and repassing, and after an enormous fuss and preparation, we started under a salute of cannon, which was answered from one of the sultan's frigates. we had the usual scene of parting with friends, waving of handkerchiefs, and so on; and feeling a little lonely at the idea of leaving a city containing a million inhabitants without a single friend to bid me godspeed, i took my place on the quarter-deck, and waved my handkerchief to my caiqueman, who, i have no doubt, independent of the loss of a few piasters per day, was very sorry to lose me; for we had been so long together, that, in spite of our ignorance of each other's language, we understood each other perfectly. i found on board two englishmen whom i had met at corfu, and a third, who had joined them at smyrna, going to travel in the crimea; our other cabin-passengers were mr. luoff, a russian officer, an aiddecamp of the emperor, just returned from travels in egypt and syria, mr. perseani, secretary to the russian legation in greece; a greek merchant, with a russian protection, on his way to the sea of azoff; and a french merchant of odessa. the tub of a steamboat dashed up the bosphorus at the rate of three miles an hour; while the classic waters, as if indignant at having such a bellowing, blowing, blustering monster upon their surface, seemed to laugh at her unwieldy and ineffectual efforts. slowly we mounted the beautiful strait, lined on the european side almost with one continued range of houses, exhibiting in every beautiful nook a palace of the sultan, and at terapeia and buyukdere the palaces of the foreign ambassadors; passed the giant's mountain, and about an hour before dark were entering a new sea, the dark and stormy euxine. advancing, the hills became more lofty and ragged, terminating on the thracian side in high rocky precipices. the shores of this extremity of the bosphorus were once covered with shrines, altars, and temples, monuments of the fears or gratitude of mariners who were about to leave, or who had escaped, the dangers of the inhospitable euxine; and the remains of these antiquities were so great that a traveller almost in our own day describes the coasts as "covered by their ruins." the castles on the european and the asiatic side of the strait are supposed to occupy the sites where stood, in ancient days, the great temples of jupiter serapis and jupiter urius. the bosphorus opens abruptly, without any enlargement at its mouth, between two mountains. the parting view of the strait, or, rather, of the coast on each side, was indescribably grand, presenting a stupendous wall opposed to the great bed of waters, as if torn asunder by an earthquake, leaving a narrow rent for their escape. on each side, a miserable lantern on the top of a tower, hardly visible at the distance of a few miles, is the only light to guide the mariner at night; and as there is another opening called the false bosphorus, the entrance is difficult and dangerous, and many vessels are lost here annually. as the narrow opening closed before me, i felt myself entering a new world; i was fairly embarked upon that wide expanse of water which once, according to ancient legends, mingled with the caspian, and covered the great oriental plain of tartary, and upon which jason, with his adventurous argonauts, having killed the dragon and carried off the golden fleece from colchis, if those same legends be true (which some doubt), sailed across to the great ocean. i might and should have speculated upon the great changes in the face of nature and the great deluge recorded by grecian historians and poets, which burst the narrow passage of the thracian bosphorus for the outlet of the mighty waters; but who could philosophize in a steamboat on the euxine? oh fulton! much as thou hast done for mechanics and the useful arts, thy hand has fallen rudely upon all cherished associations. we boast of thee; i have myself been proud of thee as an american; but as i sat at evening on the stern of the steamer, and listened to the clatter of the engine, and watched the sparks rushing out of the high pipes, and remembered that this was on the dark and inhospitable euxine, i wished that thy life had begun after mine was ended. i trust i did his memory no wrong; but if i had borne him malice, i could not have wished him worse than to have all his dreams of the past disturbed by the clatter of one of his own engines. i turned away from storied associations to a new country grown up in our own day. we escaped, and, i am obliged to say, without noticing them, the cyaneæ, "the blue symplegades," or "wandering islands," which, lying on the european and asiatic side, floated about, or, according to pliny, "were alive, and moved to and fro more swiftly than the blast," and in passing through which the good ship argo had a narrow escape, and lost the extremity of her stern. history and poetry have invested this sea with extraordinary and ideal terrors; but my experience both of the mediterranean and black sea was unfortunate for realizing historical and poetical accounts. i had known the beautiful mediterranean a sea of storm and sunshine, in which the storm greatly predominated. i found the stormy euxine calm as an untroubled lake; in fact, the black sea is in reality nothing more than a lake, not as large as many of our own, receiving the waters of the great rivers of the north: the don, the cuban, the phase, the dnieper, and the danube, and pouring their collected streams through the narrow passage of the bosphorus into the mediterranean. still, if the number of shipwrecks be any evidence of its character, it is indeed entitled to its ancient reputation of a dangerous sea, though probably these accidents proceed, in a great measure, from the ignorance and unskilfulness of mariners, and the want of proper charts and of suitable lighthouses at the opening of the bosphorus. at all events, we outblustered the winds and waves with our steamboat; passed the serpent isles, the ancient leuce, with a roaring that must have astonished the departed heroes whose souls, according to the ancient poets, were sent there to enjoy perpetual paradise, and scared the aquatic birds which every morning dipped their wings in the sea, and sprinkled the temple of achilles, and swept with their plumage its sacred pavement. [illustration: odessa.] on the third day we made the low coast of moldavia or bess arabia, within a short distance of odessa, the great seaport of southern russia. here, too, there was nothing to realize preconceived notions; for, instead of finding a rugged region of eternal snows, we were suffering under an intensely hot sun when we cast anchor in the harbour of odessa. the whole line of the coast is low and destitute of trees; but odessa is situated on a high bank; and, with its beautiful theatre, the exchange, the palace of the governor, &c., did not look like a city which, thirty years ago, consisted only of a few fishermen's huts. the harbour of odessa is very much exposed to the north and east winds, which often cause great damage to the shipping. many hundred anchors cover the bottom, which cut the rope cables; and, the water being shallow, vessels are often injured by striking on them. an austrian brig going out, having struck one, sank in ten minutes. there are two moles, the quarantine mole, in which we came to anchor, being the principal. quarantine flags were flying about the harbour, the yellow indicating those undergoing purification, and the red the fatal presence of the plague. we were prepared to undergo a vexatious process. at constantinople i had heard wretched accounts of the rude treatment of lazaretto subjects, and the rough, barbarous manners of the russians to travellers, and we had a foretaste of the light in which we were to be regarded, in the conduct of the health-officer who came alongside. he offered to take charge of any letters for the town, purify them that night, and deliver them in the morning; and, according to his directions, we laid them down on the deck, where he took them up with a pair of long iron tongs, and putting them into an iron box, shut it up and rowed off. in the morning, having received notice that the proper officers were ready to attend us, we went ashore. we landed in separate boats at the end of a long pier, and, forgetting our supposed pestiferous influence, were walking up toward a crowd of men whom we saw there, when their retrograde movements, their gestures, and unintelligible shouts reminded us of our situation. one of our party, in a sort of ecstasy at being on shore, ran capering up the docks, putting to flight a group of idlers, and, single-handed, might have depopulated the city of odessa, if an ugly soldier with a bayonet had not met him in full career and put a stop to his gambols. the soldier conducted us to a large building at the upper end of the pier; and carefully opening the door, and falling back so as to avoid even the wind that might blow from us in his direction, told us to go in. at the other end of a large room, divided by two parallel railings, sat officers and clerks to examine our passports and take a general account of us. we were at once struck with the military aspect of things, every person connected with the establishment wearing a military uniform; and now commenced a long process. the first operation was to examine our passports, take down our names, and make a memorandum of the purposes for which we severally entered the dominions of the emperor and autocrat of all the russias. we were all called up, one after the other, captain, cook, and cabin-boy, cabin and deck passengers; and never, perhaps, did steamboat pour forth a more motley assemblage than we presented. we were jews, turks, and christians; russians, poles, and germans; english, french, and italians; austrians, greeks, and illyrians; moldavians, wallachians, bulgarians, and sclavonians; armenians, georgians, and africans; and one american. i had before remarked the happy facility of the russians in acquiring languages, and i saw a striking instance in the officer who conducted the examination, and who addressed every man in his own language with apparently as much facility as though it had been his native tongue. after the oral commenced a corporeal examination. we were ordered one by one into an adjoining room, where, on the other side of a railing, stood a doctor, who directed us to open our shirt bosoms, and slap our hands smartly under our arms and upon our groins, these being the places where the fatal plague-marks first exhibit themselves. this over, we were forthwith marched to the lazaretto, escorted by guards and soldiers, who behaved very civilly and kept at a respectful distance from us. among our deck passengers were forty or fifty jews, dirty and disgusting objects, just returned from a pilgrimage to jerusalem. an old man, who seemed to be, in a manner, the head of the party, and exceeded them all in rags and filthiness, but was said to be rich, in going up to the lazaretto amused us and vexed the officers by sitting down on the way, paying no regard to them when they urged him on, being perfectly assured that they would not dare to touch him. once he resolutely refused to move; they threatened and swore at him, but he kept his place until one got a long pole and punched him on ahead. in this way we entered the lazaretto; but if it had not been called by that name, and if we had not looked upon it as a place where we were compelled to stay for a certain time, nolens volens, we should have considered it a beautiful spot. it is situated on high ground, within an enclosure of some fifteen or twenty acres, overlooking the black sea, laid out in lawn and gravel walks, and ornamented with rows of acacia-trees. fronting the sea was a long range of buildings divided into separate apartments, each with a little courtyard in front containing two or three acacias. the director, a fine, military-looking man, with a decoration on his lapel, met us on horseback within the enclosure, and with great suavity of manner said that he could not bid us welcome to a prison, but that we should have the privilege of walking at will over the grounds, and visiting each other, subject only to the attendance of a guardiano; and that all that could contribute to our comfort should be done for us. we then selected our rooms, and underwent another personal examination. this was the real touchstone; the first was a mere preliminary observation by a medical understrapper; but this was conducted by a more knowing doctor. we were obliged to strip naked; to give up the clothes we pulled off, and put on a flannel gown, drawers, and stockings, and a woollen cap provided by the government, until our own should be smoked and purified. in everything, however, the most scrupulous regard was paid to our wishes, and a disposition was manifested by all to make this rather vexatious proceeding as little annoying as possible. the bodily examination was as delicate as the nature of the case would admit; for the doctor merely opened the door, looked in, and went out without taking his hand from off the knob. it was none of my business, i know, and may be thought impertinent, but, as he closed the door, i could not help calling him back to ask him whether he held the same inquisition upon the fair sex; to which he replied with a melancholy upturning of the eyes that in the good old days of russian barbarism this had been part of his duties, but that the march of improvement had invaded his rights, and given this portion of his professional duties to a _sage femme_. all our effects were then taken to another chamber, and arranged on lines, each person superintending the disposition of his own, so as to prevent all confusion, and left there to be fumigated with sulphuric acid for twenty-four hours. so particular were they in fumigating everything susceptible of infection, that i was obliged to leave there a black riband which i wore round my neck as a guard to my watch. toward evening the principal director, one of the most gentlemanly men i ever met, came round, and with many apologies and regrets for his inability to receive us better, requested us to call upon him freely for anything we might want. not knowing any of us personally, he did me the honour to say that he understood there was an american in the party, who had been particularly recommended to him by a russian officer and fellow-passenger. afterward came the commissary, or chief of the department, and repeated the same compliments, and left us with an exalted opinion of russian politeness. i had heard horrible accounts of the rough treatment of travellers in russia, and i made a note at the time, lest after vexations should make me forget it, that i had received more politeness and civility from these northern barbarians, as they are called by the people of the south of europe, than i ever found amid their boasted civilization. having still an hour before dark, i strolled out, followed by my guardiano, to take a more particular survey of our prison. in a gravel walk lined with acacias, immediately before the door of my little courtyard, i came suddenly upon a lady of about eighteen, whose dark hair and eyes i at once recognised as grecian, leading by the hand a little child. i am sure my face brightened at the first glimpse of this vision which promised to shine upon us in our solitude; and perhaps my satisfaction was made too manifest by my involuntarily moving toward her. but my presumption received a severe and mortifying check; for though at first she merely crossed to the other side of the walk, she soon forgot all ceremony, and, fairly dragging the child after her, ran over the grass to another walk to avoid me; my mortification, however, was but temporary; for though, in the first impulse of delight and admiration, i had forgotten time, place, and circumstance, the repulse i had received made me turn to myself, and i was glad to find an excuse for the lady's flight in the flannel gown and long cap and slippers, which marked me as having just entered upon my season of purification. i was soon initiated into the routine of lazaretto ceremonies and restrictions. by touching a quarantine patient, both parties are subjected to the longest term of either; so that if a person, on the last day of his term, should come in contact with another just entered, he would lose all the benefit of his days of purification, and be obliged to wait the full term of the latter. i have seen, in various situations in life, a system of operations called keeping people at a distance, but i never saw it so effectually practised as in quarantine. for this night, at least, i had full range. i walked where i pleased, and was very sure that every one would keep out of my way. during the whole time, however, i could not help treasuring up the precipitate flight of the young lady; and i afterward told her, and, i hope, with the true spirit of one ready to return good for evil, that if she had been in my place, and the days of my purification had been almost ended, in spite of plague and pestilence she might have rushed into my arms without my offering the least impediment. in making the tour of the grounds, i had already an opportunity of observing the relation in which men stand to each other in russia. when an officer spoke to a soldier, the latter stood motionless as a statue, with his head uncovered during the whole of the conference; and when a soldier on guard saw an officer, no matter at what distance, he presented arms, and remained in that position until the officer was out of sight. returning, i passed a grating, through which i saw our deck passengers, forty or fifty in number, including the jewish pilgrims, miserable, dirty-looking objects, turned in together for fourteen days, to eat, drink, and sleep as best they might, like brutes. with a high idea of the politeness of the russians toward the rich and great, or those whom they believed to be so, and with a strong impression already received confirming the accounts of the degraded condition of the lower classes, i returned to my room, and, with a frenchman and a greek for my room-mates, my window opening upon the black sea, i spent my first night in quarantine. chapter xiv. the guardiano.--one too many.--an excess of kindness.--the last day of quarantine.--mr. baguet.--rise of odessa.--city-making.--count woronzow.--a gentleman farmer.--an american russian. i shall pass over briefly the whole of our _pratique_. the next morning i succeeded in getting a room to myself. a guardiano was assigned to each room, who took his place in the antechamber, and was always in attendance. these guardianos are old soldiers, entitled by the rules of the establishment to so much a day; but, as they always expect a gratuity, their attention and services are regulated by that expectation. i was exceedingly fortunate in mine; he was always in the antechamber, cleaning his musket, mending his clothes, or stretched on a mattress looking at the wall; and, whenever i came through with my hat on, without a word he put on his belt and followed me; and very soon, instead of regarding him as an encumbrance, i became accustomed to him, and it was a satisfaction to have him with me. sometimes, in walking for exercise, i moved so briskly that it tired him to keep up with me; and then i selected a walk where he could sit down and keep his eye upon me, while i walked backward and forward before him. besides this, he kept my room in order, set my table, carried my notes, brushed my clothes, and took better care of me than any servant i ever had. our party consisted of eight, and being subjected to the same quarantine, and supposed to have the same quantum of infection, we were allowed to visit each other; and every afternoon we met in the yard, walked an hour or two, took tea together, and returned to our own rooms, where our guardianos mounted guard in the antechamber; our gates were locked up, and a soldier walked outside as sentinel. i was particularly intimate with the russian officer, whom i found one of the most gentlemanly, best educated, and most amiable men i ever met. he had served and been wounded in the campaign against poland; had with him two soldiers, his own serfs, who had served under him in that campaign, and had accompanied him in his tour in egypt and syria. he gave me his address at st. petersburgh and promised me the full benefit of his acquaintance there. i have before spoken of the three englishmen. two of them i had met at corfu; the third joined them at smyrna, and added another proof to the well-established maxim that three spoil company; for i soon found that they had got together by the ears; and the new-comer having connected himself with one of the others, they were anxious to get rid of the third. many causes of offence existed between them; and though they continued to room together, they were merely waiting till the end of our pratique for an opportunity to separate. one morning the one who was about being thrown off came to my room, and told me that he did not care about going to the crimea, and proposed accompanying me. this suited me very well; it was a long and expensive journey, and would cost a mere fraction more for two than for one; and when the breach was widened past all possibility of being healed, the cast-off and myself agreed to travel together. i saw much of the secretary of legation, and also of the greek and frenchman, my room-mates for the first night. indeed, i think i may say that i was an object of special interest to all our party. i was unwell, and my companions overwhelmed me with prescriptions and advice; they brought in their medicine chests; one assuring me that he had been cured by this, another by that, and each wanted me to swallow his own favourite medicine, interlarding their advice with anecdotes of whole sets of passengers who had been detained, some forty, some fifty, and some sixty days, by the accidental sickness of one. i did all i could for them, always having regard to the circumstance that it was not of such vital importance to me, at least, to hold out fourteen days if i broke down on the fifteenth. in a few days the doctor, in one of his rounds, told me he understood i was unwell, and i confessed to him the reason of my withholding the fact, and took his prescriptions so well, that, at parting, he gave me a letter to a friend in chioff, and to his brother, a distinguished professor in the university at st. petersburgh. we had a restaurant in the lazaretto, with a new bill of fare every day; not first-rate, perhaps, but good enough. i had sent a letter of introduction to mr. baguet, the spanish consul, also to a german, the brother of a missionary at constantinople, and a note to mr. ralli, the american consul, and had frequent visits from them, and long talks at the parlatoria through the grating. the german was a knowing one, and came often; he had a smattering of english, and would talk in that language, as i thought, in compliment to me; but the last time he came he thanked me kindly, and told me he had improved more in his english than by a year's study. when i got out he never came near me. sunday, june seventh, was our last day in quarantine. we had counted the days anxiously; and though our time had passed as agreeably as, under the circumstances, it could pass, we were in high spirits at the prospect of our liberation. to the last, the attention and civility of the officers of the yard continued unremitted. every morning regularly the director knocked at each gate to inquire how we had passed the night, and whether he could do anything for us; then the doctor, to inquire into our corporeal condition; and every two or three days, toward evening, the director, with the same decoration on the lapel of his coat, and at the same hour, inquired whether we had any complaints to make of want of attendance or improper treatment. our last day in the lazaretto is not to be forgotten. we kept as clear of the rest of the inmates as if they had been pickpockets, though once i was thrown into a cold sweat by an act of forgetfulness. a child fell down before me; i sprang forward to pick him up, and should infallibly have been fixed for ten days longer if my guardiano had not caught me. lingering for the last time on the walk overlooking the black sea, i saw a vessel coming up under full sail, bearing, as i thought, the american flag. my heart almost bounded at seeing the stars and stripes on the black sea; but i was deceived; and almost dejected with the disappointment, called my guardiano, and returned for the last time to my room. the next morning we waited in our rooms till the doctor paid his final visit, and soon after we all gathered before the door of the directory, ready to sally forth. every one who has made a european voyage knows the metamorphosis in the appearance of the passengers on the day of landing. it was much the same with us; we had no more slipshod, long-bearded companions, but all were clean shirted and shaved becomingly, except our old jew and his party, who probably had not changed a garment or washed their faces since the first day in quarantine, nor perhaps for many years before. they were people from whom, under any circumstances, one would be apt to keep at a respectful distance; and to the last they carried everything before them. we had still another vexatious process in passing our luggage through the custom-house. we had handed in a list of all our effects the night before, in which i intentionally omitted to mention byron's poems, these being prohibited in russia. he had been my companion in italy and greece, and i was loath to part with him; so i put the book under my arm, threw my cloak over me, and walked out unmolested. outside the gate there was a general shaking of hands; the director, whom we had seen every day at a distance, was the first to greet us, and mr. baguet, the brother of the spanish consul, who was waiting to receive me, welcomed me to russia. with sincere regret i bade good-by to my old soldier, mounted a drosky, and in ten minutes was deposited in a hotel, in size and appearance equal to the best in paris. it was a pleasure once more to get into a wheel-carriage; i had not seen one since i left italy, except the old hack i mentioned at argos, and the arabas at constantinople. it was a pleasure, too, to see hats, coats, and pantaloons. early associations will cling to a man; and, in spite of a transient admiration for the dashing costume of the greek and turk, i warmed to the ungraceful covering of civilized man, even to the long surtout and bell-crowned hat of the russian marchand; and, more than all, i was attracted by an appearance of life and energy particularly striking after coming from among the dead-and-alive turks. while in quarantine i had received an invitation to dine with mr. baguet, and had barely time to make one tour of the city in a drosky before it was necessary to dress for dinner. mr. baguet was a bachelor of about forty, living in pleasant apartments, in an unpretending and gentlemanly style. as in all the ports of the levant, except where there are ambassadors, the consuls are the nobility of the place. several of them were present; and the european consuls in those places are a different class of men from ours, as they are paid by salaries from their respective governments, while ours, who receive no pay, are generally natives of the place, who serve for the honour or some other accidental advantage. we had, therefore, the best society in odessa at mr. baguet's, the american consul not being present, which, by-the-way, i do not mean in a disrespectful sense, as mr. ralli seemed every way deserving of all the benefits that the station gives. in the evening the consul and myself took two or three turns on the boulevards, and at about eleven i returned to my hotel. after what i have said of this establishment, the reader will be surprised to learn that, when i went to my room, i found there a bedstead, but no bed or bedclothes. i supposed it was neglect, and ordered one to be prepared; but, to my surprise, was told that there were no beds in the hotel. it was kept exclusively for the rich seigneurs who always carry their own beds with them. luckily, the bedstead was not corded, but contained a bottom of plain slabs of wood, about six or eight inches wide, and the same distance apart, laid crosswise, so that lengthwise there was no danger of falling through; and wrapping myself in my cloak, and putting my carpet-bag under my head, i went to sleep. before breakfast the next morning i had learned the topography of odessa. to an american russia is an interesting country. true, it is not classic ground; but as for me, who had now travelled over the faded and wornout kingdoms of the old world, i was quite ready for something new. like our own, russia is a new country, and in many respects resembles ours. it is true that we began life differently. russia has worked her way to civilization from a state of absolute barbarism, while we sprang into being with the advantage of all the lights of the old world. still there are many subjects of comparison, and even of emulation, between us; and nowhere in all russia is there a more proper subject to begin with than my first landing-place. odessa is situated in a small bay between the mouths of the dnieper and dniester. forty years ago it consisted of a few miserable fishermen's huts on the shores of the black sea. in 1796 the empress catharine resolved to built a city there; and the turks being driven from the dominion of the black sea, it became a place of resort and speculation for the english, austrians, neapolitans, dutch, ragusans, and greeks of the ionian republic. in eighteen hundred and two, two hundred and eighty vessels arrived from constantinople and the mediterranean; and the duke de richelieu, being appointed governor-general by alexander, laid out a city upon a gigantic scale, which, though at first its growth was not commensurate with his expectations, now contains sixty thousand inhabitants, and bids fair to realize the extravagant calculations of its founder. mr. baguet and the gentlemen whom i met at his table were of opinion that it is destined to be the greatest commercial city in russia, as the long winters and the closing of the baltic with ice must ever be a great disadvantage to st. petersburgh; and the interior of the country can as well be supplied from odessa as from the northern capital. there is no country where cities have sprung up so fast and increased so rapidly as in ours; and, altogether, perhaps nothing in the world can be compared with our buffalo, rochester, cincinnati, &c. but odessa has grown faster than any of these, and has nothing of the appearance of one of our new cities. we are both young, and both marching with gigantic strides to greatness, but we move by different roads; and the whole face of the country, from the new city on the borders of the black sea to the steppes of siberia, shows a different order of government and a different constitution of society. with us, a few individuals cut down the trees of the forest, or settle themselves by the banks of a stream, where they happen to find some local advantages, and build houses suited to their necessities; others come and join them; and, by degrees, the little settlement becomes a large city. but here a gigantic government, endowed almost with creative powers, says, "let there be a city," and immediately commences the erection of large buildings. the rich seigneurs follow the lead of government, and build hotels to let out in apartments. the theatre, casino, and exchange at odessa are perhaps superior to any buildings in the united states. the city is situated on an elevation about a hundred feet above the sea; a promenade three quarters of a mile long, terminated at one end by the exchange, and at the other by the palace of the governor, is laid out in front along the margin of the sea, bounded on one side by an abrupt precipice, and adorned with trees, shrubs, flowers, statues, and busts, like the garden of the tuileries, the borghese villa, or the villa recali at naples. on the other side is a long range of hotels built of stone, running the whole length of the boulevards, some of them with façades after the best models in italy. a broad street runs through the centre of the city, terminating with a semicircular enlargement at the boulevards, and in the centre of this stands a large equestrian statue erected to the duke de richelieu; and parallel and at right angles are wide streets lined with large buildings, according to the most approved plans of modern architecture. the custom which the people have of taking apartments in hotels causes the erection of large buildings, which add much to the general appearance of the city; while with us, the universal disposition of every man to have a house to himself, conduces to the building of small houses, and, consequently, detracts from general effect. the city, as yet, is not generally paved, and is, consequently, so dusty, that every man is obliged to wear a light cloak to save his dress. paving-stone is brought from trieste and malta, and is very expensive. about two o'clock mr. ralli, our consul, called upon me. mr. ralli is a greek of scio. he left his native island when a boy; has visited every port in europe as a merchant, and lived for the last eight years in odessa. he has several brothers in england, trieste, and some of the greek islands, and all are connected in business. when mr. rhind, who negotiated our treaty with the porte, left odessa, he authorized mr. ralli to transact whatever consular business might be required, and on his recommendation mr. ralli afterward received a regular appointment as consul. mr. rhind, by-the-way, expected a great trade from opening the black sea to american bottoms; but he was wrong in his anticipations, and there have been but two american vessels there since the treaty. mr. ralli is rich and respected, being vice-president of the commercial board, and very proud of the honour of the american consulate, as it gives him a position among the dignitaries of the place, enables him to wear a uniform and sword on public occasions, and yields him other privileges which are gratifying, at least, if not intrinsically valuable. no traveller can pass through odessa without having to acknowledge the politeness of count woronzow, the governor of the crimea, one of the richest seigneurs in russia, and one of the pillars of the throne. at the suggestion of mr. ralli, i accompanied him to the palace and was presented. the palace is a magnificent building, and the interior exhibits a combination of wealth and taste. the walls are hung with italian paintings, and, for interior ornaments and finish, the palace is far superior to those in italy; the knobs of the doors are of amber, and the doors of the dining-room from the old imperial palace at st. petersburgh. the count is a military-looking man of about fifty, six feet high, with sallow complexion and gray hair. his father married an english lady of the sidney family, and his sister married the earl of pembroke. he is a soldier in bearing and appearance, held a high rank during the french invasion of russia, and distinguished himself particularly at borodino; in rank and power he is the fourth military officer in the empire. he possesses immense wealth in all parts of russia, particularly in the crimea; and his wife's mother, after demidoff and scheremetieff, is the richest subject in the whole empire. he speaks english remarkably well, and, after a few commonplaces, with his characteristic politeness to strangers, invited me to dine at the palace the next day. i was obliged to decline, and he himself suggested the reason, that probably i was engaged with my countryman, mr. sontag (of whom more anon), whom the count referred to as his old friend, adding that he would not interfere with the pleasure of a meeting between two countrymen so far from home, and asked me for the day after, or any other day i pleased. i apologized on the ground of my intended departure, and took my leave. my proposed travelling companion had committed to me the whole arrangements for our journey, or, more properly, had given me the whole trouble of making them; and, accompanied by one of mr. ralli's clerks, i visited all the carriage repositories to purchase a vehicle, after which i accompanied mr. ralli to his country-house to dine. he occupied a pretty little place a few versts from odessa, with a large fruit and ornamental garden. mr. ralli's lady is also a native of greece, with much of the cleverness and _spirituelle_ character of the educated greeks. one of her _bons mots_ current in odessa is, that her husband is consul for the other world. a young italian, with a very pretty wife, dined with us, and, after dinner and a stroll through the garden, we walked over to mr. perseani's, the father of our russian secretary; another walk in the garden with a party of ladies, tea, and i got back to odessa in time for a walk on the boulevards and the opera. before my attention was turned to odessa, i should as soon have thought of an opera-house at chicago as there; but i already found, what impressed itself more forcibly upon me at every step, that russia is a country of anomalies. the new city on the black sea contains many french and italian residents, who are willing to give all that is not necessary for food and clothing for the opera; the russians themselves are passionately fond of musical and theatrical entertainments, and government makes up all deficiencies. the interior of the theatre corresponds with the beauty of its exterior. all the decorations are in good taste, and the corinthian columns, running from the foot to the top, particularly beautiful. the opera was the barber of seville; the company in _full_ undress, and so barbarous as to pay attention to the performance. i came out at about ten o'clock, and, after a turn or two on the boulevards, took an icecream at the café of the hotel de petersbourgh. this hotel is beautifully situated on one corner of the main street, fronting the boulevards, and opposite the statue of the duke de richelieu; and looking from the window of the café, furnished and fitted up in a style superior to most in paris, upon the crowd still thronging the boulevards, i could hardly believe that i was really on the borders of the black sea. having purchased a carriage and made all my arrangements for starting, i expected to pass this day with an unusual degree of satisfaction, and i was not disappointed. i have mentioned incidentally the name of a countryman resident in odessa; and, being so far from home, i felt a yearning toward an american. in france or italy i seldom had this feeling, for there americans congregate in crowds; but in greece and turkey i always rejoiced to meet a compatriot; and when, on my arrival at odessa, before going into the lazaretto, the captain told me that there was an american residing there, high in character and office, who had been twenty years in russia, i requested him to present my compliments, and say that, if he had not forgotten his fatherland, a countryman languishing in the lazaretto would be happy to see him through the gratings of his prison-house. i afterward regretted having sent this message, as i heard from other sources that he was a prominent man, and during the whole term of my quarantine i never heard from him personally. i was most agreeably disappointed, however, when, on the first day of my release, i met him at dinner at the spanish consul's. he had been to the crimea with count woronzow; had only returned that morning, and had never heard of my being there until invited to meet me at dinner. i had wronged him by my distrust; for, though twenty years an exile, his heart beat as true as when he left our shores. who can shake off the feeling that binds him to his native land? not hardships nor disgrace at home; not favour nor success abroad; not even time, can drive from his mind the land of his birth or the friends of his youthful days. general sontag was a native of philadelphia; had been in our navy, and served as sailing-master on board the wasp; became dissatisfied from some cause which he did not mention, left our navy, entered the russian, and came round to the black sea as captain of a frigate; was transferred to the land service, and, in the campaign of 1814, entered paris with the allied armies as colonel of a regiment. in this campaign he formed a friendship with count woronzow, which exists in full force at this day. he left the army with the rank of brigadier-general. by the influence of count woronzow, he was appointed inspector of the port of odessa, in which office he stood next in rank to the governor of the crimea, and, in fact, on one occasion, during the absence of count woronzow, lived in the palace and acted as governor for eight months. he married a lady of rank, with an estate and several hundred slaves at moscow; wears two or three ribands at his buttonhole, badges of different orders; has gone through the routine of offices and honours up to the grade of grand counsellor of the empire; and a letter addressed to him under the title of "his excellency" will come to the right hands. he was then living at his country place, about eight versts from odessa, and asked me to go out and pass the next day with him. i was strongly tempted, but, in order that i might have the full benefit of it, postponed the pleasure until i had completed my arrangements for travelling. the next day general sontag called upon me, but i did not see him; and this morning, accompanied by mr. baguet the younger, i rode out to his place. the land about odessa is a dead level, the road was excessively dry, and we were begrimed with dust when we arrived. general sontag was waiting for us, and, in the true spirit of an american farmer at home, proposed taking us over his grounds. his farm is his hobby; it contains about six hundred acres, and we walked all over it. his crop was wheat, and, although i am no great judge of these matters, i think i never saw finer. he showed me a field of very good wheat, which had not been sowed in three years, but produced by the fallen seed of the previous crops. we compared it with our genesee wheat, and to me it was an interesting circumstance to find an american cultivating land on the black sea, and comparing it with the products of our genesee flats, with which he was perfectly familiar. one thing particularly struck me, though, as an american, perhaps i ought not to have been so sensitive. a large number of men were at work in the field, and they were all slaves. such is the force of education and habit, that i have seen hundreds of black slaves without a sensation; but it struck rudely upon me to see white men slaves to an american, and he one whose father had been a soldier of the revolution, and had fought to sustain the great principle that "all men are by nature free and equal." mr. sontag told me that he valued his farm at about six thousand dollars, on which he could live well, have a bottle of crimea wine, and another every day for a friend, and lay up one thousand dollars a year; but i afterward heard that he was a complete enthusiast on the subject of his farm; a bad manager, and that he really knew nothing of its expense or profit. returning to the house, we found madame sontag ready to receive us. she is an authoress of great literary reputation, and of such character that, while the emperor was prosecuting the turkish war in person, and the empress remained at odessa, the young archduchesses were placed under her charge. at dinner she talked with much interest of america, and expressed a hope, though not much expectation, of one day visiting it. but general sontag himself, surrounded as he is by russian connexions, is all american. pointing to the riband on his buttonhole, he said he was entitled to one order which he should value above all others; that his father had been a soldier of the revolution, and member of the cincinnati society, and that in russia the decoration of that order would be to him the proudest badge of honour that an american could wear. after dining we retired into a little room fitted up as a library, which he calls america, furnished with all the standard american books, irving, paulding, cooper, &c., engravings of distinguished americans, maps, charts, canal and railroad reports, &c.; and his daughter, a lovely little girl and only child, has been taught to speak her father's tongue and love her father's land. in honour of me she played on the piano "hail columbia" and "yankee doodle," and the day wore away too soon. we took tea on the piazza, and at parting i received from him a letter to his agent on his estate near moscow, and from madame sontag one which carried me into the imperial household, being directed to monsieur l'intendant du prince héritiere, petersbourgh. a few weeks ago i received from him a letter, in which he says, "the visit of one of my countrymen is so great a treat, that i can assure you, you are never forgotten by any one of my little family; and when my daughter wishes to make me smile, she is sure to succeed if she sits down to her piano and plays 'hail columbia' or 'yankee doodle;' this brings to mind mr. ----, mr. ----, mr. ----, and mr. ----, who have passed through this city; to me alone it brings to mind my country, parents, friends, youth, and a world of things and ideas past, never to return. should any of our countrymen be coming this way, do not forget to inform them that in odessa lives one who will be glad to see them;" and i say now to any of my countrymen whom chance may throw upon the shores of the black sea, that if he would receive so far from home the welcome of a true-hearted american, general sontag will be glad to render it. it was still early in the evening when i returned to the city. it was moonlight, and i walked immediately to the boulevards. i have not spoken as i ought to have done of this beautiful promenade, on which i walked every evening under the light of a splendid moon. the boulevards are bounded on one side by the precipitous shore of the sea; are three quarters of a mile in length, with rows of trees on each side, gravel walks and statues, and terminated at one end by the exchange, and at the other by the palace of count woronzow. at this season of the year it was the promenade of all the beauty and fashion of odessa, from an hour or two before dark until midnight. this evening the moon was brighter, and the crowd was greater and gayer than usual. the great number of officers, with their dashing uniforms, the clashing of their swords, and rattling of their spurs, added to the effect; and woman never looks so interesting as when leaning on the arm of a soldier. even in italy or greece i have seldom seen a finer moonlight scene than the columns of the exchange through the vista of trees lining the boulevards. i expected to leave the next day, and i lingered till a late hour. i strolled up and down the promenade, alone among thousands. i sat down upon a bench, and looked for the last time on the black sea, the stormy euxine, quiet in the moonbeams, and glittering like a lake of burnished silver. by degrees the gay throng disappeared; one after another, party after party withdrew; a few straggling couples, seeming all the world to each other, still lingered, like me, unable to tear themselves away. it was the hour and the place for poetry and feeling. a young officer and a lady were the last to leave; they passed by me, but did not notice me; they had lost all outward perceptions; and as, in passing for the last time, she raised her head for a moment, and the moon shone full upon her face, i saw there an expression that spoke of heaven. i followed them as they went out, murmured involuntarily "happy dog," whistled "heighho, says thimble," and went to my hotel to bed. end of vol. i. list of corrections: p. iii, preface: "egypt, arabia petræ, and the holy land." was changed to "egypt, arabia petræa, and the holy land." p. 14: "that we coud" was changed to "that we could." p. 87: "friends in this county" was changed to "friends in this country." p. 90: "but we connot" was changed to "but we cannot." p. 99: "gate of the lyons" was changed to "gate of the lions" as in the rest of the book. p. 130: "to favour such a suiter" was changed to "to favour such a suitor." p. 174: "it is confirmed by poetry, hat" was changed to "it is confirmed by poetry, that." p. 183: "the jackall's cry was heard" was changed to "the jackal's cry was heard." p. 184: "cartainly whip them" was changed to "certainly whip them." p. 233: "threade our way" was changed to "threaded our way." p. 234: "cachmere shawls" was changed to "cashmere shawls." p. 244: "the phase, the dneiper, and the danube" was changed to "the phase, the dnieper, and the danube." p. 258: "the mouths of the dneiper and dneister" was changed to "the mouths of the dnieper and dniester." p. 268: "quiet in the moonbeans" was changed to "quiet in the moonbeams." errata: the summary in the table of contents is not always consistent with the summary at the beginning of each chapter. the original has been retained. produced from scanned images of public domain material from the google print project.) albania. [illustration: a scientific frontier. _page_ 229.] albania: a narrative of recent travel. by e. f. knight, barrister-at-law. with illustrations. london: sampson low, marston, searle, & rivington, crown buildings, 188, fleet street. 1880. [_all rights reserved._] transcriber's note: inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation, and hyphenation have been retained as printed. words printed in bold are noted with tildes: ~bold~. contents. page chapter i. where to go to?--an unknown country--the expedition--our inventor--our equipment--the doctor--a useful remedy--the start--venice--trieste 1 chapter ii. on board an austrian lloyd--voyage to spalato--the coast of istria and dalmatia--old venetian cities--our fellow-passengers --pola--a turkish officer--the morlaks--why is england a triangle? --sebenico--arrival at spalato 11 chapter iii. dalmatian _cuisine_--the emperor diocletian--remains of the old palace--we make two friends--wines of dalmatia--customs of the morlaks--a visit to salona--a great fête--costumes-morlak singing 28 chapter iv. voyage to cattaro--a bora--the gulf of narenta--the herzegovina --the island of curzola--ragusa--the bocche di cattan--the frontier of montenegro--the fortress of cattaro--evening promenade--personal attractions of the cattarine ladies-rough roads--prince nikita's coach--bosnian refugees--a bosnian's luggage 45 chapter v. march to cettinje--the pass across the frontier--montenegrin warriors--cettinje--a land of stones--the prince's hotel-frontier disputes--the commission--montenegrin method of making war--a game of billiards--a draconic law--a popular prince 60 chapter vi. the occupation of a montenegrin gentleman--the public library --prince nikita's prisoners--albanian _versus_ montenegrin --a montenegrin loan--the prince as a sportsman--the museum-the hospital 78 chapter vii. journey to scutari--atrocities--a runaway--the vale of rieka-a montenegrin sailor--the lions of rieka--the perils of the night 90 chapter viii. a great victory--a good old custom--on the lake of scutari-the londra--the debateable land--boat song--encampment--scutari --a reminiscence of cremorne--the brothers toshli--willow-pattern plates--at the british consulate 100 chapter ix. condition of albania--her races--the mussulman--the christian-the arnaut--prince scanderbeg--turkish rule--albanian language --gendarmes on strike--a scutarine beauty--courtship and marriage --nuns 116 chapter x. the bazaar--turkish gipsies--the vendetta--an assassin--a way to pay debts--bosnian refugees--a card-party--paving stones --burglars--army doctors--change for a ten pound note--our horses 132 chapter xi. our lady of scutari--a miracle--the fête--a funeral--a drunken arnaut--our escort--two more britons--warm discussion--war-marco 151 chapter xii. march to podgoritza--an albanian khan--our cook--the fund-across the lake--night visitors--the frontier--podgoritza-the armourer--the war minister--dobra pushka 163 chapter xiii. war preparations--our camp visitors--an impromptu ball-english-consul fashion--robbers--ruins of douka--a dangerous bath--bastinado--karatag yok mir 181 chapter xiv. an escort--a turkish dinner-party--brigands--our sportsman--a chief of the league--objects of the rebels--achmet agha--a meeting of the league--the boulim-bashi of klementi--an arnaut chieftain 194 chapter xv. to gussinje--the valley of the drin--a rough road--in the mountains--hospitality--a pretty woman--a scientific frontier --franciscans--dog latin--marco milano 215 chapter xvi. the mission-house--gropa--the mandolin--a letter from ali bey --a trap--our throats in danger--retreat--nik leka--proverbs-a pleasant evening 238 chapter xvii. rosso and effendi--a barbaric feast--patoulis--mead--the future of albania--the italia irridenta--sport in meriditia--dick deadeye 251 chapter xviii. the coffin--a pasha's death--horse-dealing--the postman-brigands--an hotel bill--down the bojana--dulcigno--pirates --farewell 268 list of illustrations. page spalato 26 bocche di cattaro 48 walls of cattaro 49 cettinje 65 the londra 102 scutari fishing harbour 109 podgoritza 177 a scientific frontier 229 albania. chapter i. where to go to?--an unknown country--the expedition--our inventor--our equipment--the doctor--a useful remedy--the start--venice--trieste. one day last autumn i was sitting in my temple chambers, wondering what i should do with myself in the long vacation, when i was aroused from my reverie by the entrance of my clerk. "here is mr. n., sir." "show him in." n. entered, and his chance visit solved my problem. "don't know what to do with yourself? why, i have the very thing for you. three friends of mine--brown, jones, and robinson--are preparing for a tour in albania. i saw brown this morning, and he told me they wanted somebody else to join their party." to cut the narrative short, i was introduced to brown, jones, and robinson, as i shall call my travelling companions in this book; and it was not long before i decided to join them in a trip which promised to be a very amusing one. my friends were artists, and had chosen this almost unknown country for their summer tour, as being an unexplored mine for their pencils, both as regards magnificence of scenery and picturesqueness of costume. i myself knew nothing about albania before starting, with the exception of what i had gleaned from "childe harold." the lines where the poet sings, albania, rugged nurse of savage men, came to my mind; so i took down byron from my shelves, and read all that he has to say about the wild albanian kirtled to his knee, with shawl-girt head, and ornamented gun, and gold-embroider'd garments fair to see. the information was scanty, but sufficient to show me that no more interesting country could have been chosen for our expedition. i purpose, in this book, to give a narrative of our wanderings in montenegro and northern albania. my aim is not at all an ambitious one, and i do not intend to enter very deeply into the history and already over-discussed politics of the races of eastern europe, but merely to jot down my own first rough impressions of the country; for my object is principally to show my readers how well worthy of a visit it is, and by describing the ways and means of travelling in it, to encourage and render some assistance to any who may purpose to follow in our footsteps over the highlands of ancient illyria. my fellow-travellers proposed to travel in a rough style, not to hamper themselves with servants, and to ride or walk, as seemed best when we reached the country. the originator of the expedition, robinson, had evolved an imaginary albania from his inner consciousness, and was therefore always ready to answer, off-hand, any question we might ask him as to what we should take with us in the shape of baggage, &c. he always advanced his opinion so unhesitatingly, and would give us so many facts as to the climate, nature of the country and manners of the people, that, till i knew him better, i imagined that he must have either travelled in these countries himself, or at least have had a very dear and confiding friend who had done so, for no amount of reading could have brought about so intimate an acquaintance with the subject. we were certain to meet with an abundance of big game, he told us, so must each be provided with a rifle--the result was, i armed myself with a martini-henry. he procured a winchester rifle (i think, later on in our heavy marches, he regretted having taken this ponderous weapon). brown provided himself with a lighter winchester carbine. jones wisely took no rifle with him. we each had a good revolver, and our scanty baggage was contained in three saddle-bags. robinson, in addition to his other great qualities, was a wonderful inventor, and insisted on furnishing the expedition with a huge tent, which subsequently was christened "the white elephant." this was packed for the journey in a long coffin-like box, and many were the wranglings and afflictions over that unfortunate package. cabmen, railway porters, custom-house officers, police, all alike suspected it, and hindered its unhappy progress in every way. a fantastic axe, a gigantic yataghan-looking knife, and a cooking apparatus, were also devised by our ingenious friend, and constructed under his supervision. many and many a plan he drew up before he perfected these marvellous inventions, and long was it ere he could find artisans intelligent enough to comprehend and carry them out. we trembled for all these _impedimenta_, and warned our friend that four camels at least would be necessary to transport them. remonstrances were useless; we were told it was impossible to travel in albania without these; so, with reluctance, and foreboding of future troubles, we gave in. accidents of various kinds delayed our start. brown and myself at last waxed impatient, and after waiting long for our tardy companions, who never would come up to the scratch, but postponed the journey from one day to another (each to be fixed and unchangeable), we decided to precede them, and await them either at some dalmatian port or in montenegro. we settled to leave london on the 18th of september, took through tickets to trieste, and appointed to meet in our war-paint at victoria station at seven o'clock in the evening, so as to catch the eight o'clock train for the dieppe boat. at seven o'clock the whole length of spiers and pond's refreshment-bar at victoria station was monopolized by the travellers and the numerous friends who had come to see the last of them. "you are certain to have your throat cut, old fellow, so you might just as well have one last beverage with me," was an oft-repeated and encouraging salute. i should say that those who were spectators of our departure must have imagined that we were bound on an expedition to the centre of africa, at least. our appearance was certainly remarkable. we were arrayed in blue flannel shirts, rough blue pilot suits, and top-boots. brown, too, had closely shaven his head, which gave him a decided millbank appearance. our luggage consisted of a saddle-bag, a rifle, and blanket each. robinson was anxious for us to take "the white elephant" with us; we did not see it. i forgot to state that brown had taken upon himself the charge of the medical department, and had arranged a little box of horrible implements and medicaments. the properties of these i do not think he knew much about. as can easily be imagined, we fought very shy of him in his surgical character throughout the journey. at the last moment we remembered another medicine which might, with advantage, be added to our chest; we had incidentally heard that brandy was a useful remedy in some illnesses. we accordingly sent my clerk over to that excellent tavern, the "devereux arms," for a bottle of this fluid; it was lucky we did so, for, curiously enough, both of us suffered on several occasions from those maladies for which it is supposed that beverage is a specific; to such an extent, indeed, that though none of the other bottles in the chest were even uncorked, this one had frequently to be replenished. in sixty-two hours from the time we left london we were in venice. we were haunted by two guilty consciences during the whole of our run across europe. for we had to cross three frontiers, and were laden with contraband, in the shape of revolvers and rifle cartridges. in consequence of our suspicious appearance, our baggage was generally examined. at modane, where is the most unpleasant frontier custom-house in europe, the officers have instructions to confiscate all revolvers. thus we had to conceal our own on our persons. as they were large, and so caused a suspicious-looking protuberance of our outer clothing, we did not feel quite happy until we were again seated in a carriage, and plunged into the darkness of the mont cenis. from venice we took the steamer to trieste--a twelve hours' journey. the boat was crowded. brown and myself tossed up as to whether he or i should sleep alongside a very fat old lady who obstructed the entrance to one of the two only vacant berths. i won the toss, and ungallantly enough surrendered the place of honour to brown. at six in the morning we were alongside one of the quays at trieste, and landed without being subjected to any custom-house inspection. we put up at the hôtel delorme, at which well-known hostelry the prince of montenegro had been recently staying, on his return from a visit to the emperor of austria at vienna. we found that an austrian lloyd steamer started at five the next morning for the different dalmatian and albanian ports; so, as trieste is not a very interesting place, we determined to steam as far as spalato, and there await our companions. we telegraphed to them to that effect. we wandered about the town sight-seeing the whole day, visited the lloyd arsenal, and called on our consul, captain burton, the well-known traveller. he gave us some useful information, and recommended us to several people on the dalmatian coast. he strongly advised us to take plenty of quinine with us, as the fever season had commenced, and tertians had been exceptionally frequent in southern dalmatia this year, after the severe drought this part of europe had experienced. we took two _sedea platea_ at the theatre fenice, the opera for the evening being "lucia di lammermoor." the _prima donna_ was an english jewess, madame isidore, of whom, as a foreigner, the triestines seemed to be very jealous, for her excellent singing met with a cold reception. when the opera was concluded, we wandered about the town for a short time. i find in my diary this note: "the beer of trieste is good." an english-speaking commissionaire at our hotel had insisted on piloting us about to the different places of interest. he was an amusing man, had tried most professions, had even been a butler in an english family. he had recently been butler, or what here corresponds to a butler, to a triestine; but, after a few weeks, left his place in disgust, for, as he expressed it, "the italian no understand life like you english. in cellar no wine. i go to my master. sar, i leave you." "why? what is the reason?" "sar, i came here as butler. there is nothing to buttle. i go." we retired to our beds about one, and enjoyed a few hours' sleep before the time came for embarking. at three o'clock the next morning we were aroused by our commissionaire, who had promised to see us off. we dressed hastily, and sallied forth in search of an early breakfast before our vessel sailed, and soon found a café which had not yet closed its doors. the waiters, and the place itself, had that disreputable and up-all-night appearance which is only apparent to those who themselves have arisen betimes from sober couches. i think my friend and myself rather regretted that we had so risen, and had not wandered about the town till the hour of sailing; for to turn into bed from one to three is productive rather of discontent with things in general than of that freshness, as of a button, the little cherub proverbially enjoys. after swallowing our coffee we found our way to our vessel, the "archduke paul," bid adieu to our commissionaire, introduced ourselves to the steward, and, selecting two comfortable berths, turned in for a little more sleep. chapter ii. on board an austrian lloyd--voyage to spalato--the coast of istria and dalmatia--old venetian cities--our fellow-passengers--pola--a turkish officer--the morlaks--why is england a triangle?--sebenico--arrival at spalato. when i awoke, the sun was shining brightly through the skylight, and the familiar thud of the screw told me we were under way. on mounting to the deck, i found that we were to have a glorious day to enjoy the scenery of the coast. there was not a cloud in the sky, and a fresh and pleasant breeze was blowing off shore. as our vessel was to touch at nearly every harbour of istria and dalmatia, we were never more than one or two miles distant from some coast, either of the continent or of the innumerable islands which stud the eastern adriatic from fiume to cattaro. very few english tourists ever wander among these remote provinces of the austrian empire, yet they are exceedingly easy of access, and possibly no countries in europe are so interesting. the fine scenery, the picturesque costumes and manners of the population, and above all, the remarkable roman and venetian antiquities, render them well worthy of a visit. it is surprising indeed that they are so little known. the austrian lloyd steamers run up and down between trieste and corfu three times a week, and are as clean and comfortable as any in the world. again, all countries under austrian rule are perfectly secure, banditti being entirely unknown. of course, if any one ventures inland, one must not expect to meet with all the luxuries of civilization; indeed, it must be confessed that even the hotels in the chief seaports, such as cattaro, would seem rather rough to the sybarite. we met with universal kindness and civility, and even honesty, throughout dalmatia, from the austrian officers and officials, as well as from the sclav and italian population. we found every one anxious to go out of their way to point out to us the lions of the district. the tariff at the hotels is very low, as it is, by the way, on the austrian lloyds, where the two really excellent meals provided daily at one and eight, cost one and one-and-a-half florins (paper) respectively. in short, one lives luxuriously for about five shillings a day. the officers are gentlemanly and well-educated men--dalmatians or italians, as a rule--and very glad to fraternize with jovially-disposed english passengers. one is almost sure to find one or more who speak english. we took our tickets for spalato, at which very interesting town we determined to stay for a few days. this is but a two-hundred miles' run from trieste, but forty-two hours are spent in the passage. for though very little merchandize is taken on board at the several ports touched at, in order to pick up mails and passengers, a most unnecessary amount of time is wasted in each. of this of course we are not sorry. now the steamer would anchor off some picturesque little town, such as pirano, crowned by its ancient fortress--a relic of the great republic which once ruled all this coast--and now bring up alongside the marble quay of some ancient roman city, such as pola, with its gigantic amphitheatre reflected on the purple adriatic. the scenery of the coast is very beautiful. the mountains are lofty and fantastically serrated, and cleft into profound fissures and chasms; while innumerable islands surround one on every side, so that one seems to be sailing on a large lake rather than a sea. each turn round some jagged promontory reveals some new wonder, and there is not a village that is not picturesque and antique, with venetian fortress or byzantine church rising from the very water's edge. it is impossible to say what colour the adriatic is; it is certainly the most chameleon-like of seas, and changes its hue quite irrespectively, as far as i could see, of atmospheric influence, under a sunny sky from deepest violet to most delicate turquoise, but ever beautiful. however, after a time, there is something remarkably wearisome in this coast; for though the mountains are grandly formed, they are almost universally barren, the vegetation being scant and trees exceedingly rare. the venetians made the most of their possessions when they had them, and destroyed the once magnificent forests of illyria in a most ruthless manner. nearly all the timber for their fleets was procured from these mountains. the result is, that they are hopelessly bleak and barren, while the country in many places presents for miles inland the appearance of a stony desert. i do not think there is a region in europe so wild and desolate as the plains in the neighbourhood of novegrad; however, i believe that further inland, and so almost inaccessible, large and fine forests abound. the weather was mild enough now, in the latter end of september (80° fahr. in the shade), but this is a frightfully hot and parched-up country in the summer. the vegetation, where there is any, is sub-tropical; the date-palm, the aloe, and the cactus, are seen springing here and there from the rocks; citrons, pomegranates, almonds, are cultivated in many parts of the lowlands. we steamed slowly on throughout the day, till the setting sun lit up the high dinanic alps, which is a precipitous and unbroken line, lowered in the background above the lesser maritime chains. the barren precipices assumed the most lovely tints, in some places glowing like molten iron, while the shadows toned down to a deep hazy purple. but soon the sun had forsaken the loftiest peak, and the quick-coming darkness reminded us that our supper was spread in the comfortable cabin. the day had been a very enjoyable one, for the scenery and inhabitants were alike new to us. our deck passengers were lying about in most picturesque groups. here some hungarian recruits devouring their rations greedily; here some wild-looking dalmatian morlaks; here a solemn turkish merchant, puffing at his long pipe; montenegrins, greeks, and an ugly-looking lot of felons, manacled and chained together, completed the scene. we had touched at pirano, parenzo, and rovigno, in the morning. as our vessel brought up alongside the quay at pola, we were enabled to stretch our legs for an hour on shore. we might have had two hours there had it not been for the extreme deliberation and prudence with which the officers of these steamers approach a quay. the vociferations and evident anxiety of every one on board whenever this operation had to be performed would lead one to suppose that it required extraordinary delicacy and skill, and was attended with no small risk. our captain was evidently excessively pleased and proud whenever he had safely accomplished this duty, and looked round with a very self-satisfied and admire-me-if-you-please air as he wiped the perspiration from his brow. so deep was the water, and so unobstructed the harbour, that one would have imagined it would have been easy to have steamed the vessel right up to her berth, but that is not the way they do things here. when we were about half-a-mile off the shore a boat was lowered, which took out at a cable to a large buoy in the roads; then it was found that the line attached to the cable was not long enough to reach the buoy, so we had to steam a little nearer. when, after a good deal of bungling, we succeeded in making fast our bow to this buoy, another cable was taken from our stern to the quay; and, while the first was being gradually slacked out, our donkey-engine slowly coiled up the second cable and drew the vessel stern foremost to her berth. however, with all these precautions, we did not make fast without some accident. one of our passengers, an austrian naval officer, who was contemplating the proceedings through his eyeglass, got in the way of a warp, when it tautened suddenly, caught him in the middle, and projected him into the sea. great excitement ensued, but he was soon rescued by a soldier on the quay, who hooked him up with his bayonet. we were accompanied on shore by a fellow-passenger whose acquaintance we had made, a smart-looking young turkish officer of gendarmerie. he was an albanian christian, a native of scutari, and had just returned from a journey to trieste. as this was the first time he had left his native country, he was amazed and pleased at all he saw; but he had evidently formed no high idea as to the moral character of the europeans. the amazing wickedness of the triestines was a theme on which he harped throughout the journey. pola is the head-quarters of the austrian navy; there were three or four of their finest vessels there at the time. we observed that the proportion of officers and men to the number of ships was very great. our turk came with us to visit the remains of the roman amphitheatre, one of the finest in europe. the romans he had never heard of, but had been informed on good authority that the massive edifice before him had been constructed in one day by the devil. we all had supper together on board this evening, and had a most amusing conversation with our new friend over our coffee and subsequent pipe and grog. he could speak and write turkish, french, italian, albanese, and sclave. we naturally wished to learn from him what sort of a country albania was, whether travelling was comparatively safe, and how we ought to set to work. "albania is perfectly safe," he said; "safer than trieste. there are no banditti; you can walk alone from scutari to salonika, and be treated as a friend by all, especially as you are an englishman." what our friend understood by "perfectly safe" was not exactly what a timid tourist would understand by the term. on being questioned as to the police system, he replied: "well, it is not in an exceedingly happy condition just now, for having received no pay or rations for fourteen months, the gendarmes have struck work." "and how do you get on without them?" "oh, just as well as with them; we albanians do not require police; we understand what is just, and can take the law into our own hands; the police always were useless. in a wild country like ours, a criminal--a murderer, for instance--can always escape them; he takes refuge in the mountains, and the gendarmerie know better than to follow him there. if we trusted to them, there would be no security for life or property; but this is how we manage. if, for instance, a man murdered me and fled, my family are bound to revenge my death; if they cannot find the murderer himself, they kill one of his family." "does not this system lead to a good many lives being sacrificed over one quarrel?" "it acts well as a rule. but, as you say, it does lead to some bloodshed. just before i left scutari a man shot another's pig, which had strayed into his field; the owner of the pig immediately walked over to the other man's house and blew his brains out, which he was bound to do as a man of honour; then a relation of the slain man shot a relation of the other behind his back as he strolled into the bazaar, totally unaware of the existence of any quarrel between the families." "was that looked upon as fair play?" "everything is fair in our blood feuds. this very man was himself shot a few days afterwards as he was coming out of a mosque, by the brother of the man he had killed, who was waiting for him behind a wall. several others on both sides were killed in this pig dispute, till at last the two families met and settled the matter amicably, and without dishonour to either party, for it was shown that an equal amount of damage had been inflicted on both families--ten men of one having been slain; nine men, one woman, and a pig of the other." our friend told us that he himself had a blood feud on hand, and had to keep a very sharp look out. i noticed that his hand was bandaged, and inquired how he had hurt it. "oh," he said, "i scratched it with my sabre, and so poisoned it. i have enemies at scutari, and some months ago expected to be murdered any day; but, determining to kill some of them first, when the time came poisoned my sabre with a strong animal poison. i accidentally scratched myself with it one day. luckily the poison was nearly rubbed off by that time, but as it was it very nearly took me out of this world." many other little anecdotes we extracted from our friend, all illustrative of the extreme security of albania. among other things we were warned never to allow people to walk close behind us; not to pay excessive attention to the lady portion of the population--that being the most frightful crime that one can be guilty of in that country. we played at dominoes, drank grog, and discoursed on various topics till a late hour; then retired for the night, during which the old vessel steadily steamed her eight knots an hour. the austrian lloyd company are bound, by their contract with the government, not to run their vessels at a higher speed; why, no one could inform us. on awakening the next morning we found ourselves moored to the quay of the fine old town of zara. we went on shore with our new friend, who, by the way, was saluted by the austrian officers and soldiers when they observed his uniform--an honour which we afterwards found was rarely paid him by his own men in scutari, in the present discontented condition of the half-starved turkish soldiery. we had time to visit the monuments of this interesting old venetian fortress, the fine churches, and the magnificent cathedral, built by doge dandolo. the streets are narrow, sewerless, and malodorous; but would be the delight of artists. the natives wear a particularly picturesque costume, but are exceedingly dirty, and not prepossessing in features. i had somehow or another formed an idea that as we advanced southwards into the more uncivilized countries of herzegovina, montenegro, and albania, we should find that the population, as it became more and more artistic in appearance, would at the same time become more and more dirty and villanous-looking. seeing how very nasty these dalmatians were, i expected to come across something very horrible indeed later on. in this i must say that i was agreeably disappointed; for all these reputedly barbarous races are far more intelligent, clean, and handsome, than the dull and in every way objectionable morlak of southern austria, who much resembles his brother the bulgarian. one of the natives of this district writes thus of his countrymen:-"for every article of necessity and comfort dalmatia is dependent on other countries. there is clay, but no potter; quartz, but no glass-work; timber, but no carpenter; lime, but no kiln; coal, but no mine; iron, but no furnace; rags (plenty of them), but no paper-mill." these words, written some years ago, are almost true of the present day. the wretched condition of the country is partly due to the régime of the venetians, who got what they could out of it, but did little for the improvement of the people. the greater portion of the territory was acquired by austria from venice in 1798. but though the government has established schools, and a university at zara, and done much in many ways to ameliorate the condition of things, dalmatia is still in a very backward condition. the natives look with suspicion on, and are far from grateful for, the benefits they receive from the state. the austrians are cordially hated by both the sclavs and the italians. these two latter, again, are very jealous of each other. so great is the mutual dislike, that it is rare to find even two fellow-townsmen of the different races on anything like friendly terms. to a casual observer, at any rate, it seems that austria has no very secure footing in this country, and has effected a mere military occupation of it. the government does its best to conciliate the people. they are lightly taxed, and have been allowed to retain many important rights and privileges. the population has been disarmed by the austrians, who are now carrying out the same policy in the herzegovina and bosnia--their lately acquired possessions. thus the morlaks--who, like their neighbours in the turkish provinces, were wont to stalk about bristling with pistols and knives, even in the towns--are now obliged to be contented with enormous red ginghams, which have become quite a feature in the national costume. luckily for austria, three-quarters of the population are roman catholics, those of the greek church being the minority; thus russian intrigue, though it is carried on by numerous agents, does not effect much harm among the sclavs of these districts. after having visited the many objects of interest in this old venetian city, and having tried and highly approved of the rosoglio and maraschino, for the manufacture of which it is now celebrated, we returned to our vessel, and were soon once more steaming down the ever-changing coast to the southwards. the sky was obscured by clouds and the wind was strong; but there was little sea, for the islands were so frequent that we but rarely caught a glimpse of the open adriatic. the shores, both of continent and island, were very stony and barren. there seemed to be no cultivation or any sign of life for miles. i should say that there must be thousands of uninhabited islands along this coast. we had for some time been silently smoking our cigarettes on the bridge, observing the desolate panorama as it swept by us, when our turk suddenly broke in with-"why do not you english, who are so strong, and take a part so often in other people's quarrels, fight for yourselves and recover what buonaparte took from you." i was obliged to confess that i did not quite understand to what he was alluding. "ah, your countrymen never confess to a defeat. but tell me, is not england a triangle in shape?" "it is true." "so i have been told. now how long is it since she has been of that form?" not being able to give any reply to this difficult query, he enlightened my ignorance. "i have been told that when buonaparte made an alliance with the russians and the italians, he beat england, and each of the three powers took from her a slice--thus leaving her triangular in shape. is it not so?" while he spoke he drew an imaginary diagram in the air with his sabre, illustrative of this unfortunate episode in our history. our friend was utterly unaware that england was surrounded by the seas. his idea was that our empire consisted of an extensive region bordering on russia, of which india was a province. he was very anxious to learn if there were sclavs in england; whether queen victoria was a sclav; whether the english did not assume a blackish-brown complexion in the winter, in consequence of the perpetual fog. i tried to enlighten him on some of these matters, but i do not think he placed any credence in a word i said, though he was too polite to exhibit his incredulity. with the assistance of the donkey-engine we brought up alongside the quay of sebenico, and there remained for about half-an-hour. i find in my diary this one note: "sebenico does not smell nice." this was a first impression. on my return journey i visited this town, and well worthy of a visit it is. it is built on the slope of a steep mountain, and rises from the water's edge in an amphitheatre of quaint old buildings, a colossal venetian fortress dominating all. the approach to it from the sea is remarkable. a labyrinth of narrow channels between rocky islands affords a difficult access to the shipping. the canale de st. antonio--the one by which the steamer enters the port--is in one place so shut in by the precipitous islands, that it seems as if one could touch either side of it from the deck with outstretched arm. the streets are narrow, dirty, and steep; but some of the houses are very lofty and quaint, and all are impressed with the solemn and grandiose character of the venetian style. we steamed on through the afternoon, which was wild and stormy. the setting sun lit up the lofty and gloomy mountains of the herzegovina, which far away inland towered above the lesser intervening heights, with a lurid light, while fierce gusts, driving black clouds before them, swept down the ravines till they struck our vessel in violent squalls which heeled her over, and sent the white spray hissing over the small rocky islands which jutted out everywhere to leeward of us. [illustration: spalato. _page 26._] at nine o'clock this evening we were alongside the quay of spalato. bidding adieu to our friends on board, and promising our turk to visit him at scutari, we threw our baggage into a small boat manned by some ragged and noisy ruffians, whose language was so rapid and so horrible in sound, that i could not but admire them for their evident ability to understand each other, and inwardly formed a higher opinion of the intellectual capacity of this branch of the sclav race at any rate. chapter iii. dalmatian _cuisine_--the emperor diocletian--remains of the old palace--we make two friends--wines of dalmatia--customs of the morlaks--a visit to salona--a great fête--costumes--morlak singing. on landing we were at once pounced upon by the custom-house officers, who could not quite make out our semi-military appearance. our baggage, however, was not examined, so our cartridges once more escaped. re-shouldering our guns, and handing over our blankets and saddle-bags to a quay-loafer, we marched off to the hôtel de ville, which we were told is the best inn in the town. a very fair one it turned out to be, consisting of the first and second floor of a portion of a large desolate-looking colonnaded square, recently built by a company, whose shareholders i believe will willingly part with their shares at the price of issue, for they have not met with much encouragement to continuing their work. the telegraph and post-offices, and the restaurant of the hotel, at present monopolize the completed portion of the square. on the other unbuilt side is a sulphur spring, not sufficiently appreciated by the faculty of spalato. the restaurant adjoining the hotel is a fair one for this country, but the cuisine of dalmatia can hardly be recommended. the dishes presented to the traveller are not exactly german, nor are they exactly italian, but combine the worst properties of the two without any of the good. on the other hand, the rooms in this hotel are very clean and comfortable, and the charge at this, as at all other restaurants on this coast, is considerably lower than in most countries of europe. having dined, we strolled through the town, whose nightly aspect we did not think very much of. instinct led us to the principal café. it is in the piazza in the centre of the town, and is greatly frequented by the austrian officers as well as by the local civil swells. the open-air part of the café is a pleasant arbour of sub-tropical creepers. here we smoked our cigarettes, and sipped our iced coffee for an hour or so, amused with the quaint costumes of the people and the lofty houses around us, dating from the old venetian days, as their elegant porticoes and fine carvings plainly showed. on the wall of one house near the café there are some very curious religious carvings. eve presenting the apple to adam is very comic. spalato is a town at which one could easily pass a considerable time in most enjoyable loafing. the old venetian city is built within the extensive walls of the palace of diocletian, but the modern town has spread considerably beyond their limits. these ancient walls formed a useful defence against the piratical hordes that infested this coast during the middle ages, till the strong arm of the venetian republic swept the adriatic of these freebooters, whose detestable excesses were the terror of the whole maritime population. spalato is built on a promontory formed by the deep inlet on whose shores is situate the old roman city of salona, while the large islands of brazza and bua shelter the harbour from on-shore winds. it was to this pleasant spot that the emperor diocletian, himself a native of salona, retired in the year 305, when, weary of empire, he resigned the imperial purple. on the sea-shore, a few miles from salona, he built himself this magnificent palace, in which he passed the remainder of his life without care or regret, taking great pleasure in cultivating his garden with his own hands. the outer walls form a square, each side of which is nearly a mile in length. these to a great measure still exist, but the modern houses built against and _into_ them have by no means improved their appearance. the cathedral of spalato was the pagan temple which diocletian constructed in the centre of the area, and is a very symmetrical building. many of the columns, and also the sphinx, which ornament the palace, were brought here from constantinople and egypt. we were awakened early the next morning by a knock at our door. on our replying to it a pleasant-looking stout gentleman entered smiling, and introduced himself to us as marco bettoni, _capitaine de long cours_. he had heard of the arrival of two englishmen in the town, so as he spoke english himself, he had come to offer his services to us. a very useful and agreeable companion he proved to be. the dalmatians are excellent sailors, and these retired _capitaines de long cours_ form a most respectable element in the population. most of the _podestas_ or mayors of the small villages are of this class. they are always men who have knocked about the world, and are happy to assist travellers in every way. after breakfast we visited some of the lions of spalato, in the company of our new friend. the architecture of the narrow streets, with their lofty balconied houses, and the ever-recurring lion of st. mark carved over the archways, constantly reminded one of the old republic. we went to the "porta aurea"--the "golden gate," which pierces the outer wall of diocletian's palace from the north. i sat down under a blazing sun, and managed to make a sketch of it. during the process i was surrounded by a crowd of admiring morlaks. when the marble columns which supported the arches were in their places, it must have been very beautiful. the ancient temple of jupiter, now the cathedral of spalato, was within the precincts of the palace. it is now surmounted by an elegant _campanile_, which was constructed after its conversion into a christian church. from the summit of this--200 feet above the sea--there is a charming view over the town, the harbour, and the islands of the adriatic beyond. the interesting remains of this town have been so well described by former travellers, that i will not here enter into them. suffice to say that spalato offers at every step some curious relic of early christian as well as pagan days, not to mention the fine venetian buildings. in the architecture of the palace as well as in the statuary brought from salona, and stored here in the public museum, one can detect the transition state of art, and the falling off of the old classic beauty of form. we were introduced by our new friend to a very pleasant french gentleman, who was of great service to us during our stay. m. vigneau was an _ænologue_, a native of bordeaux, and had come hither to be manager of a company recently started at spalato, for the production of superior classes of wines. the natives of the country were quite ignorant of the science, their wines being rough and unpalatable--surcharged with tannin. but, under the scientific and skilful direction of m. vigneau, it has been proved that dalmatia is capable of producing excellent wines, emulating the finest vintages of his native land. other companies have since his attempt been started for the like purpose, but as far as i could judge the "_société ænalogue de dalmatie_," as the original spalato undertaking is called, produces the largest variety and most excellent quality of wines. we visited the buildings of the company. it was the vintage season, and huge butts were brimming with the ripe fruit outside the door. in the yard two employés sat at a table purchasing the grapes, as picturesque morlaks--men, women, and children--bore in the purple spoil in sacks and baskets of every size. these were weighed, and the little bundles of money were handed over to them in return. now and then a basket would be refused, the quality of grape being inferior; when the wild people would enter into a fierce discussion with many gesticulations, but were peremptorily told to move on, as their noise was useless. the morlaks are civilized enough to know some of the tricks of trade spoken of by the "divine artemus" as common among the american manufacturers of apple-sauce, the difference being that in the one case the bottom of the vessel is filled with sawdust and in the other with stones. we indulged in a feast of grapes at m. vigneau's, and then adjourned to his spacious cellars to try his various wines. the huge casks, which contain enough of the rich fluid to drown the largest elephant, had been brought in sections from bordeaux--the natives being incapable of constructing them. the wines we tasted were exceedingly good, and the different varieties might pass for the best burgundies, sherries, and ports; there is also an excellent light wine. these wines are improved by a sea voyage. they are cheap, and need only to be introduced into england to be appreciated and widely consumed. indeed i am sure many of us have unknowingly drunk and enjoyed them, for m. vigneau told me that not only were large quantities exported to italy, but--especially since the phylloxera plague had broken out--also to france, to the bordeaux district itself, where doubtlessly they are blended with the native product and sent to us under many fair-sounding châteaux brands. the sclav names which the spalato wines bear are not musical. m. vigneau gave me all the details and prices. these wines could be sold in england, after paying all transport and custom expenses, at a very low rate indeed. the company is sufficiently old for us to have tasted and approved some choice vintages that had been twelve years or so in bottle, and very excellent they proved. m. vigneau had spent a few years in england, and speaks english very well. so between him and the kindly old sea-captain, we did not feel ourselves at all abroad in spalato. without them we should not have got on, for our knowledge of italian was limited, and of sclav we knew but the names for bare necessaries. at spalato we had many opportunities of observing the manners and customs of the mixed population of the dalmatian coasts. the native italians and sclavs keep very much to themselves. there is no society of any kind, and i cannot say i was in any way favourably impressed with them. the austrian garrison, officers and men, on the other hand, created a very favourable impression. there is none of that swagger and bounce which is too often displayed by the troops of some nations we know of when in the midst of a subject alien and hostile race. the officers are very gentlemanly-looking men, and the hungarians who were quartered here struck one by their jovial and kindly manners. the austrian officers much dislike service in this province; it is the siberia of austria. the people do not speak their tongue, and will not mix with them; and the upper classes studiously insult them, as far as they dare. the morlaks or sclav peasantry are an interesting race, but not much to be admired. they are from all accounts great thieves and liars, and more backward, i should say, than any people in europe. they have no desire for improvement. any one who endeavours to introduce some new manufacture or industry among them is treated with suspicion; every obstacle is studiously thrown in his way. the costumes of the male morlaks are very picturesque, varying in different districts. they wear the baggy trousers coming to the knee; the embroidered vest and red sash of the east. in most parts the head-dress is a skull-cap, flat at the top, sometimes red; generally the colour is indistinguishable for the accumulated grease of years. they wear _opunkas_ on their feet. these are sandals or slippers, with turned-up toe; made of rough thongs of oxhide; they are tied to the foot with straps of the same material. the morlak is always accompanied by his long pipe with its red clay bowl. he is also addicted to smoking cigarettes through brightly painted wooden tubes fully three feet in length. the dress of the women differs so much in districts that it is impossible to give anything like a general description of it; it is not unlike that of the southern italians. they, too, wear the opunka. the morlaks have many strange superstitions and customs. to any one who wishes to see in the life the barbarous manners of the middle ages in all their picturesqueness, a voyage in these countries can be recommended. however, the austrians have eliminated one of the most picturesque, if rather objectionable, features of the good old times. hordes of brigands no longer overrun dalmatia; the vendetta is now unknown; and travelling, if rough, is unattended with danger; and i may add that morlaks, despite their other faults, are exceedingly hospitable, and will give up their one bed to the travelling stranger. the women of this race are treated in true eastern fashion; that is, not much better than the beasts of burden. as in the east, those of the higher class rarely leave their houses, but sit lazily in their chamber acquiring a becoming pallor of countenance and fatness of limb. a sclav will not allude to his wife in conversation without an apology for mentioning so low a thing. "my wife, excuse me, sir," is the common way of bringing her into a sentence. as in the east, too, the unchaste woman is regarded with great abhorrence. what vice there may be has to conceal itself in dark places, for the old punishment of the stoning is by no means unknown here. in the towns of albania, this outward show of morality--for that is all it really is, just as in the old days, when the virtuous man to throw the first stone was not to be found--is still more ferociously demonstrative, cases of guilty parties of both sexes having been torn to pieces by the mob being of not unfrequent occurrence there. the following incident happened shortly before our arrival at scutari. a turkish officer of police, who had carried on a flirtation with the german servant of a foreign consul, was discovered, seized by several men, and beaten till he fainted with his wounds, and was left by them for dead. the next day was sunday. hiring a trap, we drove, with our two friends, along a good road, across a wine-producing country, commanding pleasant views of sea and mountain, to salona--the old roman city--the birthplace of diocletian. it is but four miles from spalato. as we approached it we saw, some miles off inland, on a precipitous buttress of the mountain, the ancient and impregnable fortress of clissa, commanding the approach to spalato from the herzegovina. salona is situated on the sloping ground at the head of the deep and beautiful inlet of the sea, which bears the same name. the ruins have been excavated, and there are no important remains to be seen, for the town was thoroughly sacked and destroyed by the gothic hordes. it was from salona, in 544, that belisarius set out to rescue italy from totila and his goths. the town had withstood several sieges. attila himself is reported to have once captured it. having for years enjoyed peace, lulled into a false and fatal sense of security, the salonites, the historian tells us, gradually fell into a state of incredible luxury and sensuality. this was the sybaris of the east. at last the day of trial came, and the effete citizens were found to be incapable of defending their homes against the hardier foe. the avars overran dalmatia in the year 639. salona easily fell into the hands of the barbarians. the sinful city was plundered and burnt to the ground; and where stood its stately theatres and temples, there is now but an uninhabited wilderness. its site commands a splendid view over the blue gulf, and dark, far mountains. this day, at this season of the year, when a brown tint was on the tangled groves, and a purple bloom on the grapes, while a fresh sea wind sighed through the desolate ruins, the general effect was very impressive. here we wandered a couple of hours or so through vines and brushwood, the fallen walls of houses, tombs, shattered friezes and columns meeting us at every turn. nearly everywhere, on raking off the thin layer of overlying rubbish, beautiful tessalated pavements are disclosed to view. the morlak peasantry crowded round us and sold to us, at ridiculously low prices, coins of the diocletian era, vases and beautiful lacrymals, irridescent and scaling off with age. several were melted out of shape by the fires of that fierce sacking more than a thousand years ago. the roman aqueduct which supplied the palace of diocletian, at spalato, with water, is still in very fair repair. the modern city suffers much from want of water. this necessary has to be carted in from a long distance. the restoration of the old aqueduct has been decided on; and to have come to a decision will suffice the dalmatians for some years to come. it is to be hoped that the plan will ultimately be carried out. "the spalatans will then have no excuse left for not washing themselves;" so i said to mr. vigneau, innocently. "oh, you don't know them," said he; "they will discover that washing opens the pores, and renders them more susceptible to the _trebesine_ (the fever)." the source of the _gindro_, where commences the aqueduct, is well worthy of a visit. about a mile from salona--at the head of a wild and beautiful well-wooded gorge down which this torrent flows--the further progress of the traveller is barred by a precipitous wall of rock. at the foot of this wall an enormous volume of ice-cold water rushes out upwards from an orifice in the rock, filling up a deep, broad pool, which foams and whirls as the spring spouts up from underneath with incredible force, forming a dome of water on the surface. there is something horrible in the titanic forces and furious whirl, that makes one dizzy; one cannot look down long. the water overflowing from the pool partly feeds the aqueduct, which is carried along the slope of the hill, and partly rushes down the gorge, turning on its way the huge wheel of a flour-mill. this mill we visited with m. vigneau. the enterprising individual who had started it seemed very disheartened. the latest machinery had been brought hither at great cost. but this was too great a novelty for the conservative morlak peasantry, who resented and fought shy of the innovation, preferring to grind their corn between two flat stones picked up in the river bed, as their fathers did before them. we drove home before sunset, as there was much fever about. there was not a cottage near here that had not some of its occupants prostrated by the _trebesine_. tuesday, september the 30th, was a great dalmatian holiday. on foot, on mule-back, in the rough waggons drawn by diminutive oxen, the peasantry trooped in. the morlaks are very fond of feasts. every other day seems to be dedicated to some saint or other, who would avenge himself were he neglected. the working days are few, as m. vigneau bitterly complained. i believe this peasantry still observes several feasts whose origin dates back to pagan times. the holiday gave us a good opportunity of viewing the various costumes of this country at their best. not least quaint were the jews of spalato. some were long-bearded, solemn-looking old fellows, dressed in the same sombre garb the jews of venice wore when shylock drove sharp bargains on the rialto. the groups that filled the narrow streets were very eastern in appearance. the pig-tailed morlak, clad in his sunday jacket; the savage-looking bosnian turk, with turban, broad sash, and gay slippers; the greek sailors; all had an outlandish appearance, that told us we were far from home--"from home and beauty" too, for of the latter there was little to be seen at spalato. i honestly saw no women who could, with the grossest flattery, be called pretty, between trieste and montenegro. and what can make one feel so alone in a strange land, as the absence of fair women. the dalmatian sclavs are unfortunately very fond of raising their voices in song. a gang of youths would-walk down a street arm-in-arm, shouting some native ballad. the music and singing of the east is always of a melancholy character; but never have i heard anything so dismal as the barbaric dirges of the morlaks. the song is a sort of monotonous chant, which has a peculiar querulous complaining spirit in it; and yet a suppressed and timorous complaining, as of slaves that had not for centuries known what independence and freedom was. how different is the song of the free montenegrin (of the same race as the morlak). it is of the same monotonous character, but has a go and energy in it, inspired as it is with the warlike feats of their heroes in the present as well as in the past--not a song of regret for some by-gone greatness, but an exultation in the brave and illustrious now. each verse of a morlak song dies away in a long and sad howl, followed by a silence, before the next verse is taken up. this produces a peculiarly depressing effect. our arrival was pretty well known all over the town, for strangers are not frequent, especially englishmen. the citizens, who could not conceive any one being mad enough to travel for amusement, especially in their country, discussed us curiously. m. vigneau told us he had, several times each day, to give a long narrative of the lives, pursuits, &c., of brown and myself, in order to satisfy the eager inquirers. on hearing that we intended to visit albania, the verdict always was, "they will not come back"--this with a meaning shrug of the shoulders. i have, on more than one occasion found, when i have left england for some unknown and supposed dangerous country, that as i gradually neared it the reports and accounts of the perils of that land became less and less alarming. for "distance" lends terror as well as enchantment "to the view." in the case of albania, however, the nearer we approached it the worse was the reputation of its fierce inhabitants for murder and robbery; the more earnestly were we warned against travelling in such a cut-throat region. this was not an encouraging sign. however, the best plan is ever to go on as far as one can, and believe little one hears. chapter iv. voyage to cattaro--a bora--the gulf of narenta--the herzegovina--the island of curzola--ragusa--the bocche di cattaro--the frontier of montenegro--the fortress of cattaro--evening promenade--personal attractions of the cattarine ladies--rough roads--prince nikita's coach--bosnian refugees--a bosnian's luggage. we had been in spalato nearly a week. the steamers from trieste did not bring us jones and robinson, so we determined to push on. we bid adieu to our good friends, who evidently considered our heads doomed to fall beneath albanian yataghans, and embarked on october the 2nd at 4 p.m., on an austrian lloyd, bound for cattaro, which lies up a long gulf at the foot of the montenegrin mountains. there we were to leave civilization and the sea coast, and commence our inland march. from spalato to cattaro is a forty-eight hours' journey by the steamer. for the last few days the genial scirocco, or south-east wind, had been blowing; but to-day the fierce gusts of the bora, or north-east wind, had changed, in a trice, the warm autumn weather to bitter winter. this wind beats very heavily on the eastern coast of the adriatic, and is much dreaded by seamen. the quaint lateen craft of the country, constructed on such antique lines, skimmed by us with close-reefed sails--curious sails they are, many-coloured, and painted with pictures of suns and grotesque saints. throughout the wild afternoon and night we steamed on, touching at almissa and macarsca on our way. the next day we steamed up the long, land-locked gulf of narenta. the scenery, as usual, was fine, but so indescribably desolate and barren that the eye soon wearied of it. on the gulf of narenta a narrow strip of herzegovina runs down to the sea, thus, till that province was acquired by austria, dividing her territory in two. we anchored off a spot called neoum, which is on this recently acquired slip, in order to land soldiers and munitions for the troops. neoum is a military post recently established by austria on the bare sides of the mountain. we landed, and found a barrack, a telegraph station, and a public-house; these were the only buildings. it is an important position, however, as being the nearest point to mostar, in herzegovina, to which town the government is now constructing a military road from here. next we touched at the picturesque fortress of curzola, on the island of the same name. it is surrounded by grand old venetian walls and towers, which rise from the water's edge. this night we anchored for several hours off gravosa, the northern harbour of ragusa. the latter wonderful old city, perhaps the most interesting of all dalmatia, we had time to explore in a rapid way. there was once a republic of ragusa. the fact that it successfully maintained its independence, when all the surrounding countries had been acquired by venice, will testify to the strength of the little state. the chief street is broad, and contains lofty and noble houses--residences of the old merchant princes--strong-built, with elegant balconies and carved porticoes. from this street narrow streets ascend the mountain side, in steps of granite. arches are thrown from house-top to house-top; there are some grand bits for a painter. the town is paved with broad, flat stones, which gives it a very clean appearance. the next was a glorious day. the gentle south wind once more brought summer back to us, and the lateen-rigged boats again shook out their reefs, and displayed all their gaudy canvas. it was early in the day when we steamed through the entrance of the bocche di cattaro. this magnificent fiord has often been described. it certainly contains some of the finest scenery in europe. the deep gulf winds into the heart of the wild montenegrin mountains. at first it is quite six miles in width, then it narrows to a few hundred yards, then again widens into an extensive lake as the fantastically-shaped, almost perpendicular masses of bleak rock jut far out into the deep clear water in rugged promontories, or retire from it in dark and profound chasms and ravines. here and there houses and churches are seen perched on seemingly inaccessible ledges, thousands of feet above the blue water which reflects them. there are several small towns on the shores of the bocche. castelnuovo and perasto have beautiful situations. pleasant villages, half buried in olive gardens, are built on the lower slopes of the hills. but the first view of that extraordinary fortress, cattaro, is never to be forgotten. at the very head of the last arm of the bocche the dark blue masses of mountain, here higher and more precipitous than elsewhere, shut in a deep bay. [illustration: bocche di cattaro. _page_ 48.] more than 4000 feet above, on the ridge, is the frontier of montenegro--a country by the sea, looking down on the blue water, yet shut out from it by its big neighbours. [illustration: walls of cattaro. _page_ 49.] a bold bluff of rock, a thousand feet or more in height, slightly projects from the main mass, perpendicular, bare, cleft into profound chasms. this extraordinary site has been chosen for the most wonderful fortress in europe. below, on the narrow margin between rock and sea, is built the town. along the water's edge is a quay, to which are moored the beautiful craft of the country. this has been converted into a pleasant walk, fringed with trees. behind this is the old venetian wall of the city, with its fine solid towers and broad battlements; the time-darkened stones in places luxuriantly overgrown with the lovely flowers and creepers of the sunny south. passing through the portcullised gate, one enters into a strange, quaint city. the streets are narrow, the houses lofty, and covered with grotesque carvings. no carts, carriages, or horses, are permitted to enter the town. this, by-the-bye, is the case in most dalmatian cities. the whole is paved with large flags. cattaro is of some length, but very narrow, for it is shut in by the steep cliff which rises immediately from behind it. now the walls of the town, after bounding it on the sea front, zigzag up either side of the bluff i mentioned, till they meet on its crowning point, a thousand feet above the sea, where stands a formidable-looking castle. on observing how they rise and dip, adapting themselves to the little ravines and irregularities of the rock, one is irresistibly reminded of the pictures of the great wall of china one was so much impressed with in the spelling-books of childhood. very old the town and fortifications are. no improving goth has yet taken aught away from their grotesque grandeur. it is very difficult to describe the effect of all this, for the scenery in and around cattaro is such as is not to be found elsewhere, quite _sui generis_. the most _blasé_ traveller would utter an exclamation of surprise when that wonderful fortress suddenly appeared before him, like some great city of the genii that one has read of in fairy tale, or seen in some half-remembered nightmare. the high cliff, with its grey fortress, seems ready to topple down on the town any moment. some of the huge masses of overhanging rock have at times been dislodged, and fallen below; many of these are chained to the mountain, to prevent this catastrophe. so lofty and steep are the surrounding heights that cattaro does not enjoy much of the light of the sun; the shadows depart late, and soon set in. but during the few hours in the middle of the day that the sun's rays do fall on it, this place is like an oven--possibly the hottest town in europe. about four o'clock in the afternoon our steamer was alongside the quay. we marched off to the hotel cacciatore, a very decent place, whose proprietor is a quaint fellow, with a perpetual smile, who imagines he can speak french. the restaurant is fair, and frequented by the officers of the garrison. the custom-house officers did not trouble us, but the mosquitoes did; so, too, did certain insects that inhabited our beds. brown is one of those unfortunate people whose blood is exceptionally sweet and palatable to insect life, and to whom, consequently, the hours of darkness in these lands bring no peace, but sleepless torments worse than the guiltiest, liveliest conscience could inflict. he brought with him from england a large packet of insecticide, and every night, before he retired, made careful preparations to withstand the usual siege. he was not contented with dusting himself all over so freely that he set the whole albanian expedition sneezing for an hour, but he would also build around his body, on the bed-clothes, an impregnable rampart of the powder so broad and lofty that the most active flea would fail to leap it. the next day was sunday--a warm and delicious day. we attended the service, and enjoyed the fine music in the old venetian church. in the evening we visited the public promenade on the quay outside the walls, which was crowded by the population and the country people in their sunday best. at the end of this promenade there is a public garden, and a _café_ under the ramparts. the marble tables are placed out of doors, among the bright flowers and creepers. here we sat lazily smoking our cigarettes, and listening to the music of the hungarian military band that played just in front of us. there is no gas at cattaro; the town is lit with petroleum. the band carries its own lamps. it was curious to see the men troop into the garden, each with a pole over his shoulder, to which hung his lit lantern. this place is really delightful on such an evening as this. the scene was exactly like some great scenic display on the boards of a large theatre--some dream of fairyland. one could not help half expecting to see some bright eastern ballet trip in the next moment. the promenade in front of the walls was the stage and proscenium. the lovely eastern night, the moon hanging over the great hills, the blue waters and the fantastic shipping, the giant walls and towers, the grand mountains behind all, the picturesque crowd, and the lively music, all combined to form a perfect spectacle, magic-like--to say theatrical would be an unworthy adjective--that i, for my part, never imagined could be found within a week's journey of practical, ugly london, dear old place though it is. costumes flitted by us as brilliant and strange to the eye as those of an alhambra _opera bouffe_. the morlak, the lithe and bright-eyed greek, the turbaned turk of bosnia, with glowing robe, solemn and haughtily-looking; the montenegrin mountaineer, with his white coat tied on with silken sash, and richly embroidered vest; the albanian in fez, snowy kilt, rough capote, and jacket stiff with gold; the arnaut, with his manly tight-fitting dress, stalking through the crowd, looking the fierce and undaunted savage that he is--all these strolled or stood in groups, completing the picture with their richly-coloured and varied costume. the very europeans, with their sadder-hued dress, formed no unpleasing foil to these. the ladies, with unbonnetted heads, over which a shawl is gracefully thrown in venetian fashion, their little feet silk-stocked and slippered, as in the east, above which, just peeping below the black silk dress, hung a mere suspicion of delicate white embroidered petticoat, were charming--if not seen too near: an ungallant verdict, reluctantly wrung from a veracious traveller. the hungarian and other austrian uniforms were also no unpleasing feature in the throng. i have just now, and i think on other occasions, used the term european in contradistinction to the term dalmatian. i only follow the usage of the country. i found that dalmatians and albanians always spoke of europe as if they were quite apart from it. "you europeans," "you in europe," was a common phrase. the music ceases--the lights are extinguished. we must pass through the walls by the narrow gate into the city. by night the portcullis is half lowered, so we have to stoop to go through, as if to bow in obeisance to the winged lion of st. mark that is carved in the old stone above. we walked through the quaint old streets, whose broad clean flags rang metallically under our feet. the town was now deserted and silent. as we approached the hotel we stood and listened to one remarkable noise which can be heard once every hour at cattaro, and which produces a very curious and pleasing effect. this is the watchword of the sentries on the walls. first, the sentinel below at the gate-tower commences, with the long wailing cry; then the next takes it up, then the next, and so on, right up the zigzag fortifications to the fortress up in the mountain, a thousand feet above, each cry fainter than the last. then, when the sentinel at the extreme summit has shouted out the word--his voice almost inaudible to us so far below--it is carried down the other side of the walls, distincter and distincter again, until it reaches the starting-point again, and the man posted on the grim old tower just before us gives out in loud voice the last intimation that all is well. we loafed about the neighbouring mountains and shores for some days, waiting to see if those dilatory travellers, jones and robinson, would turn up. we visited the new road now being constructed into montenegro--a difficult undertaking to surmount these frightful rocks. the old road, which is carried in long zigzags from above cattaro to the summit of the pass, is calculated to test the wind and muscles of the pedestrian. it is a very rough affair; and though much labour has been expended to clear away the larger rocks that obstruct the way, yet in some places one has to clamber over boulders of considerable height. the montenegrins look upon this rough track as being a model high-road. it is far better than most of the so-called roads of montenegro and albania. but in these countries it is generally difficult to make out what is intended for road, and what is not. the roughest mule-track of switzerland is as good as a great highway here. the prince of montenegro recently paid a visit to the emperor of austria, at vienna, where he was made very much of. when he was about to return to his native mountains, the emperor was much puzzled to know what would be a fitting present to make to the semi-barbaric despot. at last he bethought him of a splendid state-carriage, on whose panels were painted the arms of the principality, and four fine horses. the prince was much gratified, and the costly gift was taken by steam to cattaro. here an unexpected difficulty arose. the carriage could not be taken to cettinje, for there was nothing that by the greatest stretch of compliment could be called a carriage-road leading into the principality. so here, at cattaro, in austria, the coach has to remain until the new road be completed, which will not be for some time to come. whether the coach was originally given in anticipation of the new road, or whether the new road is being constructed for the coach, i was not able to discover. on the next day the duke of wittemburg arrived here by steamer, on his way to cettinje. a deputation of gorgeously-clad montenegrin notables, tall, handsome, and straight, armed to the teeth was on the quay to receive him. these contrasted favourably with the municipal authorities, who were there for the same object. a german or italian in swallow-tail coat, black silk hat, and white kid gloves, in broad sunlight, is an uncomfortable and unpleasing object. in the afternoon the guns from the fort above the town fired twice--the signal that the trieste steamer was in sight. this time we made certain that our friends were on board. so confident were we, that brown and myself tossed up as to whether jones or robinson should be at the charge of a bottle of maraschino to be consumed by the quartette. we were again disappointed. we went on board; they were stowed away in no part of the vessel. the deck presented a curious appearance; it was crowded with turbaned bosnian refugees, who with their wives and families had deserted their native land, intolerable to them since its occupation by the austrian giaours. they were now on their way to the new lands promised to them by the porte. this exodus is much more extensive than is generally imagined. these poor people bore their grief with true oriental apathy. they had laid their mats on the decks, and were squatting on them smoking silently, holding no converse with the hated giaours around them. the veiled women crouched up close under the bulwarks in a shrinking manner, while the little nude children sprawled about anywhere. i need not add that all swarmed with vermin. they had their penates with them, of course. their luggage was rather scanty. it was a curious sight to see them trooping out of the vessel, each man bearing his _impedimenta_--his mat, pipe, and coffee-pot; this was all. one family had a european portmanteau; this was opened at the custom-house. its contents proved to be--on one side potatoes, on the other a coffee-pot! the potatoes doubtlessly had been dug from the little enclosure round the homestead in the old country. we decided to give up our friends, and start on the morrow for cettinje, the capital of montenegro, for we had wasted some time, and were anxious to commence our march into the wild interior, and see what lay beyond that barrier of cloud-capped rock before us. we found a montenegrin who owned a small wiry mountain horse. he agreed for a small sum to guide us, and carry our baggage to the capital. before leaving cattaro we changed some english sovereigns into swanzickers. this is an old austrian coin, out of circulation in the empire, of the date of maria theresa, and as a rule bearing her effigy. this is the coin particularly affected by the montenegrins, they always value anything in these elsewhere obsolete swanzickers. the turkish modern coinage is also accepted, but under protest. the silver medjidie seems to have a different value in every montenegrin village. austrian modern money or paper they will have nothing to do with, as a rule. of course gold of any kind is readily taken. the value of the english sovereign and french napoleon is well known all over eastern europe. i was surprised to find that the humblest mountaineer in albania knew the exact change for these pieces. the only difficulty in changing them lies in the possibility of a village not being able to muster a sufficiency of the small coin as an equivalent. bank-notes are of course useless in these wild countries; but at cattaro and spalato, and other dalmatian towns, there are money-changers who will change these with pleasure. when we were at cattaro the pound sterling was worth eleven florins, sixty centimes, or thirty-three-and-a-half swanzickers. chapter v. march to cettinje--the pass across the frontier--montenegrin warriors--cettinje--a land of stones--the prince's hotel--frontier disputes--the commission--montenegrin method of making war--a game of billiards--a draconic law--a popular prince. early on the morning of october the 9th, we commenced our journey in earnest. we passed through the land-side gate of the town, where our montenegrin guide with the horse was awaiting us. just outside this gate is the montenegrin bazaar, as it is called. it consists merely of two rough sheds built for the use of the black mountaineers, who come down to sell their produce at cattaro. here, too, before they enter the town, they are obliged to leave their mules and arms. the latter was found to be a very necessary regulation, as quarrels which ended in bloodshed used often to occur between the fierce highlanders and the cattarines. the two peoples are never on the best of terms--the former being accused of many a midnight descent into the valleys, to pillage and carry off all they can lay hands on. but the present prince of montenegro has to a great extent reformed his savage subjects. a small morlak boy was deputed by the montenegrin to lead the horse, and guide us to the capital of the land of stones. he was the proud possessor of a lockless turkish pistol, which he stuck jauntily in his sash, and of which he was evidently very proud, for he would stop every now and then to readjust the formidable weapon. it is not a six hours' march from cattaro to cettinje. every few yards of progress up the zigzag path revealed some new view over the indescribably grand gulf below. at last we were far above town and fortress. they lay at our feet like a map. the eye could follow all the windings of the bocche; and so high were we above it, that we could look over three successive chains of lofty mountains. the blue water stretched in three long streaks between them; while far away, over the furthest range, the blue adriatic lay peacefully under a cloudless sky. it was a scene of unparalleled vastness and magnificence. the summit of the pass was 4500, the fortress that tops the walls 1000 feet above the sea, by our aneroid. we had chosen a gala day for our entry into montenegro--for following us a mile or so behind, were the duke of wittemburg and a numerous _cortège_ on horseback, on their way to prince nikita's palace. we turned a rocky bluff, and a stone marked the frontier of the huge empire and little principality. here, drawn up on the left side of the rough track, two deep, were about eighty armed, splendid-looking montenegrins, awaiting to serve as guard of honour to the duke as far as the capital. they were magnificent men, giants--all considerably above six feet in height, and broad in proportion. each wore the long snowy coat of montenegro--tied in with a broad sash. their vests were red, and richly embroidered with gold and silk. heavy plates formed of silver buttons covered their chests, well calculated to offer good resistance to sabre cut or bayonet. they wore the national head-dress, which deserves a special description. it is a round flat-topped cap of red cloth; round its side, and just overlapping its upper surface, is stitched a black band. in a corner of the red circle thus left at the top is embroidered a semicircle, in gold thread, into which is also often worked the initial letters of prince nikita's name in sclav characters. this cap has a symbolical meaning. when the old servian kingdom was broken up, and the south-western sclavs became subject to strange races, the wild mountain district of montenegro alone preserved its independence; so its inhabitants draped their red caps with black, in mourning for their enslaved brethren. the corner of gold on the red cloth is meant to represent montenegro--the one corner of liberty on the field of blood--the one free spot of the old sclav kingdom. the sashes of these highlanders were stuck full of yataghans and pistols. some were the richly-worked pistols of albania, some the long austrian grasser revolvers. this is the favourite small arm of the montenegrins, who invariably scrape off the bluing when they purchase one of these weapons, as they consider it looks dirty, and prefer the bare steel. their guns were the austrian breech-loading rifles of the old pattern; very fair weapons, but not to be compared to the martini-henrys which are so common in albania. these fine men--their plaids blowing to and fro with the fresh highland breeze, drawn up here on the savage mountain side, while the strains of the military band at cattaro rose up from the abyss beneath--looked very imposing. at neigoussa, a miserable little village, there is a _khan_. here we halted, gave our horses a feed, and sitting on the stone bench outside, lunched off goat's milk, cheese, and sausage, while the wild people, all armed to the teeth, crowded round us, and respectfully asked to be allowed to inspect our arms. his arms are the only things a montenegrin loves and takes an interest in. he spends half his time in cleaning and polishing them. our guns and revolvers were always much admired, and their systems had to be carefully explained at every halt. my revolver was the new army weapon, with patent extractor. this was something entirely novel to them. how often in this country or in albania would some chief, covetous of the _pushka inglisi_, bring out a handful of coin, and say eagerly, "_coliko_, _gospodiné_," or "_sa pare_, _zutní?_" (how much, sir?), as the case might be. our little guide had mastered its system, and would borrow it and proudly dilate on its excellencies to the men we met on the way. at this _khan_--having a large and appreciative audience round him--he favoured it with a lengthy lecture, with detailed explanations, followed, as far as i could make out, by a biography of the two english travellers. startling it must have been, too, judging from the admiring and awe-struck way in which the men turned and stared at us during the narrative. [illustration: cettinje. _page_ 65.] early in the afternoon we marched down the high-street, or rather the solitary street, of the smallest capital in europe. cettinje is but a village of sordid huts, above which rises, imposing in contrast to the other buildings, the palace of prince nikita. my sketch represents the view from the hotel--for cettinje now possesses this luxury. the winged house in the centre is the palace. on the right is the bishop's residence and cathedral, if this term can be applied in this case. in the background is the well-known tower on which the heads of slain turks were wont to be stuck on spikes, exposed to the jeers of the populace. the present prince has put an end to this practice and has constructed a wooden belfry on its summit, in which is a large bell, only rung in cases of great emergency, when the hillsmen are to be suddenly called in order to repel some more perilous foray than usual from beyond the border. cettinje is built in a broad plain, not over fertile, surrounded by lofty hills. this is not the richest plain in montenegro; but considering what a desert of stones this country for the most part is, it appears a very well favoured spot indeed to the mountaineers. the legend says that the almighty, when he distributed stones over the earth, accidentally upset the bag which contained them over montenegro. it truly looks like it--a more desolate and barren region it is difficult to find: a desert of broken masses of limestone piled one on the other in fantastic heaps. its character is expressed in the names given it by its neighbours. montenegro in italian, karatag in turkish, tchernagora in sclav, all have the same meaning--the black mountain. as a montenegrin told me, "this is a poor, rocky country of ours: we produce but two things--fighting men and flea-powder." this insecticide of montenegro, made of a certain rock-plant, is renowned all over the east, and is largely exported. it is very efficacious, and well bears out the dogma so impressed upon us in our youth, that bountiful providence ever finds the antidote where she gives the evil. "the nettle and the dock grow side by side." the hotel is the finest building in the capital after the palace. it belongs to the prince, who, observing that inquisitive tourists were beginning to visit his realm, bethought him of this good speculation. he has placed a sergeant of his army in it as manager. on entering it we were ushered into a comfortable room, not by a smiling chamber-maid, but by a gigantic barbarian bristling with arms. we sat down and rested for an hour, discussing our plans. here we were at last, in the capital of the war-like little state of which the world has heard so much of late--a state which has been belauded far and wide; a state whose fierce sons mr. gladstone speaks of in such warm terms, as very far the bravest, noblest warriors of modern europe; a state which has for so many hundreds of years successfully withstood the turk in many a heroic battle; but which now, spoiled by too much praise, petted by the rest of europe, swollen with pride, dreams of aggrandizement at the expense of turkey, and nurses vast and ambitious projects, in which the central idea is--cettinje the capital, prince nikita the king, of a vast confederacy of the southern sclavs. the austrian occupation of herzegovina and bosnia was naturally very displeasing to the montenegrins, crushing several of their grand hopes. that montenegro for years carried on intrigues in the herzegovina, incited the christian population to revolt, and encouraged them to look forward to the day when they should be subjects of prince nikita, is notorious. the principality was ever a place of refuge for herzegovinian fugitives; and, as my readers know, lent valuable assistance in that last insurrection which ended in a great european war. in the late war montenegro was very successful, as we all know. her troops on several occasions defeated the turks with great slaughter. it is true that her foemen were not of the first line, but starving, shoeless, demoralized redifs. however that may be, the representatives of the powers, at the congress of berlin, considering that the prowess and success of her armies merited some recompense, handed over to her a large slip of turkish territory, giving her what she had so long coveted, a seaport--antivari. her new territory has proved rather troublesome to her, a not unalloyed good. the inhabitants of it do not approve of being thus unceremoniously handed over to the hated karatags, and offered--and are, i shall have to show by and by, still offering--a formidable resistance to the prince's troops. as i am on the subject, i may state that the wise men at berlin made a very serious mistake when they drew a line across the map, to represent the new frontier. in the first place, whereas it would have been easy to have handed over lands to montenegro which are inhabited by co-religionists of hers, who would have welcomed their new masters, it was thought fit to give her districts and villages inhabited by the most fiercely fanatical mohammedans of albania. that bloodshed and future troubles would result, any one who knew the country could have foreseen. i shall have a good deal more to say on this subject when i get to albania. the fact of the matter is, there is no reliable map of this country, so the representatives at berlin worked in the dark, confused between the utterly contradictory description of the region given by turkish and montenegrin envoys. a good story is told, illustrative of the geographical knowledge of some members of the congress. a noble english representative was conversing with one of the turkish representatives. he had recently been studying the map of this coast. "now," said he, "look here. this little montenegrin difficulty must be settled. they want a sea-port; give them one: let them have cattaro." "we have no objection to that," replied the turk with a smile, for he knew that the port in question belonged to austria. the englishman was delighted. he went straight to his austrian colleague. "ah, the montenegrin difficulty is settled," he said. "all is smooth now; the turks have given in." "i am glad of that. what, then, is proposed?" the amusement of the austrian can be imagined when he heard that the turks had no objection to giving up an austrian fortress to prince nikita. a frontier commission was sent over last spring to mark out definitely the new boundary-line. it was composed of course of representatives of all the powers interested. i heard, from several people i met, of the sufferings and difficulties of this much-to-be-pitied expedition. to draw out any frontier-line based on the instructions they had received was hopeless. at last, about two months before our arrival, a melancholy troop might have been seen descending the rough track that leads from cettinje to rieka. the gates of the heavens were opened. the path was converted into a foaming torrent. they reached rieka wet and miserable. the commissioners then retired to bed and hot beverages, fearful of fever and rheumatism. at last a happy thought struck one. "the rainy season is commencing. we must postpone our labours till next spring. let us return to our wives and families." the english commissioner alone held out, and urged that they should continue their work now. he told them that the rainy season was a good two months off yet. in vain; the others had had enough of it; they threw up the sponge. the commission broke up. what excuse was made to the several powers that had sent it out, i know not, but the real cause was a rain-storm on the montenegrin hills. the english commissioner was much admired by the populace, and made himself by far the most popular of the lot. he was a good foot taller than any other member of the expedition, and looked like a fine man, as well as a _diplomat_, for so every one is called here who works for a foreign government. he was attended, as far as i could make out, by two smart non-commissioned officers of the line, also big and imposing. one of these thought it incumbent on him to sport a fez at scutari, which at once stamped the english branch of the commission as turcophil. we were aroused suddenly by a loud barbaric shout, not much resembling the cheers of an english crowd. the duke of wittemburg had arrived, so we walked down the high street to see his reception. the whole of the capital had turned out--a picturesque mob, every man of which bristled with arms. the albanian or montenegrin never leaves his doorstep without buckling on a very arsenal of formidable-looking weapons. the women, of whom some were pretty, mixed freely with the throng. these wear the same sleeveless white coats as the men do, but no sash ties it in at the waist. under this is a many-hued dress or petticoat of thick and rough material, which falls some six inches or more below the coat. their legs are wrapped in shapeless gaiters. they wear the opunka on their feet. they are fond of stringing small turkish coins, half-piastres and the like, with which they ornament their heads and breasts. some of the necklaces constructed with the small silver coins are really very pretty. about 200 men or more were drawn up along the road-side, near the palace, who fired a salute as the _cortége_ arrived. some montenegrin nobles, in their extravagantly gorgeous dress, mounted on small wiry horses, rode hither and thither, giving orders to the men. fine specimens of guerilla chieftains they were, all of great height, handsome, and sinewy. very characteristic of this country was it to see the men fall into their places. a gun was fired--the signal that the duke and his party had been sighted in the pass. then all down the high-street you might see tobacconist, leather merchant, and baker, leap from his counter or leave his work, seize his rifle--always at hand, and always loaded--and run down to the palace gate, where he would take up his position with his fellows in the line. the discipline seemed rather slack, but the strict discipline of a european army would be useless for these men, trained to fighting from their childhood as they are, and who never or rarely descend to the plain to join battle with regular troops, but fight behind the rocks and stones they know so well. montenegro has no regular paid army. every man is a soldier in time of war. prince nikita telegraphs his orders to the various _voyades_ or chieftains, and each of these calls out the fighting men of his district. it requires but little time to mobilize these wild forces. there is no commissariat to be organized, no heavy transport train. each man buckles on his belt of cartridges, throws his plaid over his shoulders, seizes his rifle, and stalks out of his door, ready for the campaign. the women take the place of the commissariat. each man's wife, or mother, or sister, as the case may be, is his commissariat. the women come and go between home and camp, bearing provisions and ammunition. for the particular nature of the service required of the montenegrins this system is perfect; for they never carry war beyond their frontiers, and the distance between home and the front is never very great. no less hardy than the men, the women here are surprisingly active and strong, and walk nimbly across these fearful mountains with incredibly heavy burdens on their backs. we dined at the table-d'hôte of the prince's hotel to-day, in very aristocratic company. the highest officers of the little state are regular _habitués_ of the hotel dinner. we sat down with the court painter--a young ragusan who had travelled in america and france, and spoke a curious english, with a half foreign, half american accent, freely larded with yankee idioms; our landlord; the secretary of state, the minister of foreign affairs, and the prince's adjutant. the latter is a handsome young fellow, a cousin of the prince, and with him has been educated at the lycée st. louis le grand, at paris. all the grandees were in full montenegrin dress, bristling with pistols and yataghans; for in montenegro the men do not put by their weapons when in a friendly house, as is the case in albania. the conversation turned on politics. mr. gladstone, of course, was their hero. they were all well acquainted with his pamphlet, which has been translated into their tongue. the hatred they expressed for lord beaconsfield was intense. they were by no means reserved in the terms of their abuse. there was one thing that excited their astonishment to a great degree. "you englishmen," said one, "christians--civilized--a great people! how comes it that you allow a jew to govern you?" seeing that we were not quite of one mind with them, and were not such great admirers of holy russia as were they, they politely turned the conversation. we then got on the subject of the perpetual wars on the turkish frontier, which in ferocity and romantic incident excel the old feuds of our northern border-land. a man happened to enter the room while we dined. our landlord introduced him to us as a very brave fellow, who had cut off twenty-three heads in one battle of the late war, and who, in consideration of his prowess, had received a medal from the hands of the white czar. from cut-off heads and noses we got on the subject of prince nikita. his praises were loudly sung. this autocrat is greatly beloved by his people. he is a handsome man, tall and powerfully built; married to a very lovely montenegrin. that the prince has done much for his country is certain. he has succeeded in abolishing many of the more barbarous customs of his subjects. quarter is now given in war by the montenegrins; and though the mutilation of captured and dead foemen is practised as of old, yet the turkish heads are no longer bought by the bishop prince at so much a head, to be exhibited on the tower which overlooks the capital. in the good old times, if you paid a friendly call on the late metropolitan, a genial kind old gentleman, it was quite a common thing to have your conversation and coffee interrupted by the unceremonious entrance of some wild fellow staggering under the weight of a heavy sack. "ah! good, good, my son!" the old prelate would say, with sparkling eyes. "how many of them?" the man would then empty the bag on the floor. its ghastly contents would be numbered, and the price of blood paid over. the heads would be raked up again and carried off to the tower, then the conversation would be quietly resumed where it left off. brigandage is now unknown in montenegro, for the prince has done all he could to make his country respectable and of good fame throughout europe. his subjects have the reputation of being great pilferers. the draconic laws of the country punish this offence with hanging. the prince has lately mitigated the penalty to whipping. in the eyes of his children this is a still more horrible punishment. a whipped montenegro is worse than dead--disgraced--outraged--an outcast on the earth. many who have been condemned to the whipping have been known to fall down at the prince's feet and pray to him for mercy--for death--death with torture, rather than the great infamy. a montenegrin whipping is no joke; so severe is it, that death often follows the punishment. i must say, in justice to this people, it is not on that account that the penalty is so dreaded. for like his neighbour the albanian, the montenegrin is indifferent to death or physical suffering. he is indeed perfectly brave. dinner completed--a much better dinner, i may add, than any dalmatian hotel can afford--we retired to the adjoining café, in which was a very inferior billiard-table. the room was full of armed montenegrins, smoking and raki-drinking, a wild-looking crew. it is to be feared that so civilized a luxury as a café and billiard-table must lead many young montenegrin gentlemen into dissipated habits. here--playing together for pots of austrian beer--were the minister of finance, the prince's adjutant, the innkeeper, the postman, and the pot-boy. in what metropolis, even of the most democratic republic, would one meet with such fraternizing equality as in this little absolute despotism of montenegro? it was an exceedingly funny sight. all the players were terribly in earnest--quiet and stern over their game. chapter vi. the occupation of a montenegrin gentleman--the public library--prince nikita's prisoners--albanian _versus_ montenegrin--a montenegrin loan--the prince as a sportsman--the museum--the hospital. the next morning we rose betimes, to visit the lions of the montenegrin capital. it struck us, as it strikes most travellers in this country, that the favourite occupation of a montenegrin in time of peace is to swagger about in peacock fashion in conspicuous places where he is likely to be seen, proud of his fine dress and splendid weapons, which he sticks ostentatiously in his silken sash. the women do work hard here, but i have never seen a montenegrin of the sterner sex demean himself by any labour. they are all gentlemen, in the good old sense of the word. they can't do any work, and wouldn't if they could. there is no industry of any kind in this country. their embroidered robes, their metal work, their saddlery, all come from albania, or are here worked by emigrants from that province. the black mountaineers have many virtues, but, _pace_ mr. gladstone, industry is not one of them. how they manage to procure their expensive get-up often puzzled me. true, all the riches of the country are on the not over-clean backs of the inhabitants. miserably poor the common people are. a bad season, as this one has been, equals in horror and suffering even what ireland has just experienced. yet a montenegrin, be he starving, can always manage to be well armed, and often gay with gold embroidery. we met a string of women, some by no means ill-favoured, bearing building materials--wood, bricks, and the like--on their broad shoulders. they had brought these all the way from cattaro. as all the luxuries, and many of the necessities of life, have to be brought up that frightful path on the backs of the fair sex, cettinje is by no means a cheap place to live in. it made my eyes open to learn the cost of a feed of hay for one's horse. we walked up the high street, till we reached an institution of which the natives are very proud--the public library. this was but a small room. the books were few in number, all in the sclav tongue. i was surprised to find the chief russian, german, french, and italian journals lying on the table. there was a _standard_ and _illustrated london news_ of as recent a date as september the 27th. the prince, who of course is consulted as to what publications are to be admitted into his realm, has curiously enough selected from our daily papers the one that, above all others, takes a view of general european politics diametrically opposed to that of himself and his big ally in the north. the next object of interest we visited was the prison. imagine a courtyard open on the street, generally, i believe, unguarded. here all offenders against the law squat on the ground, or stroll about as they like. they are allowed to receive their friends, who bring them little luxuries. a most happy-go-lucky sort of a prison, and very characteristic of the country. these prisoners, were they so inclined, could escape in a moment. they never attempt such a thing. they are ordered to remain there and consider themselves prisoners for so many days, and there they stay, smoking patiently till their time is up. in so small a country as montenegro, it is hardly an exaggeration to say that everybody knows everybody. the flight of a prisoner would be telegraphed to every village--he would soon be re-captured. for so great is the love and fear entertained by this people towards their prince, that none would venture to shelter or assist a runaway from his prison. again, to fly across the frontier is a plan few would care to resort to. the montenegrin loves his country too much to desert it, and is too much disliked by his neighbours to expect to be by them received with open arms. the prince had occasion to send an important message to cattaro one winter. heavy snow rendered the path dangerous--almost impracticable. so, as it was a pity to risk the life of an honest man, a criminal from the prison was called out, and ordered to carry the letter to the austrian fortress, and return immediately. no one for a moment suspected that the man, having regained his liberty, would stay away for good. indeed, he carried out his mission safely, and returned within two days. while we were lunching with the grandees in the hotel, several loud explosions, succeeding each other in rapid succession, shook the house to its foundation. we were told that the noise proceeded from the new road to cattaro, where the rock is being blasted with dynamite. we went out to see the sight. the plain at the back of the hotel was crowded with groups of men, women, and children, who seemed pleased and excited at the spectacle. every now and then from the rocky ridge, about half a mile off, would spout a huge volume of smoke and fragments of rock, which was followed shortly by a loud roar. the recklessness of the spectators was amazing. a fragment of rock would fall in the midst of them occasionally, which called forth peals of laughter. they would all rush up to see how deep it had forced its way into the soil. one large piece of rock whizzed by us and buried itself near the hotel, not ten yards from where we were standing, and almost between the legs of a little boy. the urchin screamed with joy (as did all round--the narrow shave was an excellent joke), and threw himself on the ground to disinter what had so nearly proved his destruction. the stone was nearly as large as a man's head, and had buried itself quite eighteen inches in the ground--a sufficiently formidable missile. we were told that a rock had been projected into the prince's palace the other day during the blasting operations, and that several people had been killed or seriously wounded at different times. the black mountaineer is too accustomed to scenes of carnage to be anything but reckless and careless of life. in the afternoon we saw the prince himself, as he enjoyed the fresh air of the plain. he was walking in a slow and dignified manner, followed closely by two attendants. he wore the national costume; over his shoulders was thrown a magnificent cloak of furs. whichever way he turned his head, and he did so often, every one within radius of his vision immediately uncapped himself, and as instantly resumed his head-covering when his sovereign's eyes were turned in another direction again. on no other occasion does the montenegrin doff his cap; this mark of respect is due to the prince alone. he wears it indoors as well as out. here a man salutes his equal with a kiss on the cheek, his superior with a kiss on the hand or hem of the garment, according to the rank. woman, an inferior and subject being, never ventures to do more than humbly take in her own, even her husband's, hand and kiss it. we did not have an interview with prince nikita, though we had letters of introduction for him. as he was entertaining the austrian grand duke, we considered that he had enough distinguished foreigners on his hands for one time. later on robinson and jones did interview him, and were much pleased with his frank and genial manner. he is always very glad to see any strangers that visit his domains, and is anxious that his endeavours to civilize and ameliorate the condition of his people should be better known and appreciated by england. i fear that he and his people have been almost too highly appreciated of late. some would persuade us that the montenegrins are the finest people in europe--a race of demigods. the popular superstition as to the "unspeakable turk" is no less absurd than that which exaggerates the virtues of the noble montenegrin. they are brave warriors. they are cunning enough to know that the good opinion of civilized europe is worth having. they are intensely self-conceited; they hate the turk and the albanian; they are too proud of their warlike qualities to care to work; and, in my humble opinion, will never be more than they are now, picturesque, poor mountaineers, very inferior in mental capacity to their neighbours the albanians, christian or mohammedan, and no wit less ferocious and cruel in war. but albania has an ill-name among those who know her not. she is the scapegrace of the eastern adriatic--the cause of all troubles hereabouts, it is said. montenegro, on the other hand, enjoys a high reputation. this is natural. subsidized or bribed by two of the powers that be, petted by the same, she plays a good game, and encourages the superstition that she is much more virtuous and civilized than the neighbour whose territory she lusts after. the unfortunate arnaut has no prince nikita, is robbed by the so-called government of turkey when it is strong enough to affect him in any way, has no friends, but is surrounded by cunning enemies, hungry for his lands. let any disinterested person travel among montenegrin and arnaut, and i think he will conclude, as i did, that the latter is as brave a warrior--more industrious, more intellectual--in every way of a finer, nobler race, than his much belauded hereditary foe. the cares of state lie not heavily on the shoulders of prince nikita. the little work he does do he is very proud of. europeans that have conversed with him have come away with the impression that he is the hardest-working, most conscientious prince in europe. i am told that now that he has constructed a very complete network of telegraph wires throughout his realm, he considers that one thing alone remains to bring montenegro up to his standard of civilization. this is a national debt. he talks seriously of negotiating a loan in some of the european capitals, and proposes to hypothecate the timber of the state forests. we saw a good deal of montenegro in this and in a later visit; but had great difficulty in discovering where these fine forests were. we often made inquiries. "ah! when you reach so-and-so, you will see them on your right hand." so-and-so reached, we could perceive nothing but the eternal stones of the karatag, made further inquiries, and were referred to some further spot where we should find huge primeval forests darkening mountain and valley, the haunts of wild beasts, where the axe of the woodman had never been heard to resound, where twenty men linked hand-in-hand would fail to encircle the gigantic trunks. we pursued these phantom forests, but never found them, so we concluded that they existed only in the imaginations of the montenegrin financiers. at last, it is true, on the frontier, near klementi, we did come across what might be called forests, but the timber was not large; and, growing where it did, in inaccessible haunts of the eagle, in the heart of the wild mountains, it was next to useless. i should say that if the principality endeavoured to raise a loan on the security of her inexhaustible stones, she would be about as successful as she will be if she seriously tries to hypothecate her forests. a rather cynical person, a foreigner, who knows cettinje well, gave me an amusing summary of prince nikita's method of passing his time. in the morning he sits in his palace; occasionally sends a message of little import to some village _voyade_, through the medium of his new toy, the "electric telegraph." a few telegrams constitute a hard day's work for the prince. some relaxation is necessary. sport is suggested; so off he rides, with his court, to rieka, in whose stream are trout of fabulous size. here he enjoys a good afternoon's fishing. with rod and fly? no; but in a more wholesale and princely fashion. with dynamite! truly a royal pastime! he is also a poet in his way, and turns out rather dismal compositions in his native tongue. he is an affectionate husband, and is wont, on fine evenings, to serenade the princess with the one-stringed guzla, or violin of montenegro, accompanying it with his voice, which he raises in song of his own making. a montenegrin notable, a fine young fellow, quite six feet five inches in height, kindly offered to be our guide over a museum of great interest, which is situated at the further extremity of the town. the museum is merely a small, rough-plastered room, but it contains what is well worthy of visit--a collection of trophies taken from the turk in those wars which have raged fiercely and cruelly between the two races for so many hundreds of years. here were the spoils of a thousand battles. guns of very antique date--curious, ricketty weapons of middle age europe. here the long albanian gun, with silver-inlaid barrel, and small narrow stock of beautifully carved steel; old muskets with english tower marks; martini-henry and winchester rifles hung on the walls, bringing one down to more recent campaigns. sabres, blood-stained and broken; mountain howitzers, tattered standards, some falling to pieces with age, some rent with ball and shell; the richly inlaid scimetars of some old prince of orient, lances, old chain-armour, and i know not what besides, lay in confusion all around us. in one corner of the wall hung certain trophies which are calculated to sadden the english visitor. these are the decorations of the slain turk. among the medjidiés were numerous crimean medals, english and french. it was not pleasant to see these here at cettinje, taken as they were from the breasts of many a veteran ally of ours in the olden time--heroes of kars, may be; soldiers of williams. from this melancholy collection we were taken to see the hospital. the surgeon, a herzegovinian by birth, kindly showed us over the establishment. it was a rough place, but answered its purpose well enough. the beds were occupied chiefly by those who had been badly wounded in the late war. the patients were crowded together in a way that would have much astonished an english doctor. but these hardy, temperate people, have marvellous constitutions, and the air of cettinje is pure and bracing; so no ill has resulted so far, from a system which would invite pyæmia, and kill off half the inmates of a london hospital in a week. we stayed at cettinje for three days. by that time we had seen enough of the metropolis, so held a council as to whither next we should bend our steps. as albania, and not montenegro, was the object of this expedition, we decided to cross the frontier to scutari, the capital of north albania, where resided an english and other consuls, who could give us useful information. we found the best, indeed the only, way of reaching scutari from here was to go by land to rieka, a montenegrin village on the river of the same name, and then hire a boat to take us down the rieka, and across the great lake of scutari, to the albanian capital, which is situated at its furthest extremity. chapter vii. journey to scutari--atrocities--a runaway--the vale of rieka--a montenegrin sailor--the lions of rieka--the perils of the night. we left cettinje early on a sunny, fresh october morning. our baggage was strapped on the back of one of the sturdy little horses of the country, which was led by a diminutive native, not twelve years of age, yet armed with yataghan and loaded revolver. his father--a tall, fine fellow, who came to see us off--had been subjected to a horrible mutilation. his nose had been cut off by the albanians, taking with it the whole upper lip, giving him a ghastly appearance. one meets with an astonishing number of men who have been victims of this barbarous custom. the montenegrins are quite as great offenders in this respect as are their albanian foemen. indeed, i came across more mutilated men in scutari alone than in all montenegro. in the last war, a handsome young montenegrin was taken prisoner by the turks. as he was wounded, he was sent to the hospital at scutari. some of the ladies of the different consulates, who were doing all that lay in their power to alleviate the sufferings of the wounded, took great interest in this interesting young man. a curious and most offensive smell was noticed at his bedside; it increased, day by day, till it became quite unsupportable. at last its origin was discovered. rolled up in his coat, which lay by his side, were eighteen turkish noses!--the tokens of his valour in the field. our montenegrin friends were not pleased to hear that we were going to albania. "stay with us," they said; "travel in our country. there is more to see than in turkey. you will like us. those beasts of albanians will cut your throats of a certainty, devils that they are." but we wished to hear the other side of the question, and notwithstanding the warnings of owe hosts, determined to visit the "beasts" and "devils," and form our own opinion about them. a crowd of wild-looking mountaineers had assembled to see us off. we had scarcely got under weigh when an amusing incident happened. our pack-horse, exhilarated by the fine fresh air of the morning, and a hearty breakfast, thought that a nice canter across the plain of cettinje would be a pleasant way of beginning the day. so off he went at a canter over the low stone walls, across the potato-fields, through the dried torrent-beds, in a direction quite opposite to that which his _compagnons de route_ had chosen. it must have been a ridiculous sight. first a saddle-bag fell off his back, then he would throw a blanket off, until our properties lay scattered all over the plain. we followed as fast as we could with our heavy boots and rifles. we at last caught him, readjusted our baggage, and once more turned his head to the mountain, where soon the narrow and precipitous path obviated all chance of his repeating the performance. i was smoking a cigarette at the time of the mishap, and swallowed it by accident as i leaped over a wall. the result was an unwonted silence and solemnity on my part for the next half-hour or so. i was much struck by the behaviour of our guide and the other montenegrins, when the refractory horse was captured. english carters, under the same circumstances, would have given vent to much foul language, and would probably have brutally belaboured the wretched animal. but these montenegrins showed no sign of impatience, said not a word, but quietly repacked the horse and led it off. turks, albanians, montenegrins, and all easterns, whatever their other faults, are very good to the dumb animals that serve them, and never ill-treat them. to shoot any animal wilfully, for the mere sake of killing, excites great indignation in the breast of an albanian. an english naturalist, who travelled in their country in order to make a collection of birds, was looked upon as something not much better than a devil. his very servant was so horrified at the wholesale massacre of the innocents carried on by his master, that he gave him notice that he could serve such a fiend no longer, and left him on the spot. yet these are the very people who feel no compunction in blowing your brains out from behind a fence, in satisfaction of some trifling quarrel. it is an easy morning's march to rieka. the rough path first ascends the rocky ridge which divides the plain of cettinje from the valley of rieka (rieka = river). when we reached the summit of this ridge a most magnificent scene opened out before us. the great valley lay at our feet. from the windy desolate height on which we stood we saw far beneath the silver stream of the rieka, fringed with poplars, winding down a long fertile vale. from the edge of the water-side meads the great mountains rose sheer up on either side--of every form and colour--some barren, in curious strata which shone in the morning sun like successive rings of opal and parian marble, others covered with woods, that had already assumed their autumn tints, and sent forth a perpetual moan as the strong highland wind passed over them. from the lofty eminence on which we stood chain was seen rising over chain, valley behind valley, till, far away behind all, there gleamed a long broad sheet of water, the great lake of scutari, backed by the fantastic-shaped rugged mountains of albania, utterly barren, serrated and pinnacled like a gigantic gothic cathedral, and through the medium of the clear southern atmosphere appearing of a delicate pinkish hue. this valley of rieka is far the most fertile of montenegro, and the village of the same name which is situated on the brink of the clear stream is the prettiest, cleanest, and seemingly most prosperous of the country. the extreme smallness of some of the fields, if they can be so called, which is remarkable all over montenegro, struck us much, on our descent down the rough slopes of the mountain. soil is scarce. we here saw walled enclosures so small that three or four potato-plants at the most filled them up. our procession entered rieka about mid-day. this village consists of one street along the river side. the houses are built tastefully of wood, something in the swiss style. outside each house was the usual stone bench, on which, again, as usual, half the family sat, smoking lazily, evidently with nothing on earth to do. of course we were inspected with some curiosity as we passed. not understanding the language, we were utterly at the mercy of our guide. we tried to signify to him that we wished him to conduct us to a _khan_. he shook his head, and paid no other attention to our remarks, but deliberately marched us off to the establishment which he thought was alone suitable for the english _gospodinas_. it was the largest house in the place, whitewashed, and partly hanging over the water, at the corner of the pretty bridge which spans the stream. we halted at the foot of the stone steps which led up to the door, and unpacked our horse; while the crowd stood round, admiringly, and whispering to our guide queries as to what these curious strangers might be. the door of the house opened, and a pleasant-looking old lady, richly-attired, and tinkling at every motion with the strings of turkish coins which she wore as ornaments, came down smiling, bowed low to us, kissed our hands, and invited us within. we were soon made at home, and a welcome repast of wheaten cakes and goats' flesh was placed before us, with good _raki_ to wash it down. the captain of the village came in while we were lunching--a splendid-looking fellow, who stalked in with the magnificent carriage which distinguishes the chieftains of _tchernagora_. he approached us with both hands stretched out, and shook us cordially by the hands, and gave us what was evidently a very kindly welcome, in words we unfortunately could not understand. a few other men of rank came in to see us, but none could speak any language but their own, so our conversation was limited to smiling welcomes on the one hand, and smiling thanks on the other. we all found that this after a time became monotonous, so we endeavoured to render the interview a little more amusing by a mutual inspection of weapons. after lunch a room was prepared for us. this was by far the most civilized mansion we came across in montenegro. there were actually beds in it. such a luxury was quite unknown a few years ago in this country. the montenegrin never takes his clothes off. on retiring for the night, he merely rolls himself up in his plaid, and lies down on the bare floor of his house. a shake, and then an inspection and buckling on of arms, suffice for his toilette in the morning. we were sketching the village after lunch, when a man passed us, stopped, looked at us a moment curiously, and then, to our astonishment and delight said, "you should be englishmen, strangers." this man turned out to be a montenegrin, who had once got somehow to constantinople. here he shipped on board an english brig, and so had visited london, liverpool, and other ports. it is a question whether a montenegrin had ever before adopted the sea as a profession, it is hardly in the line of the karatag, detesting as he does discipline and confinement of any kind. he was known as greek jack on board the brig, he told us. english sailors i have always found, have rather a vague idea as to the limits of the little realm of king george. any one who has a cut-throat appearance, and is picked up anywhere between dalmatia and cyprus, is at once looked upon by our tars as one of them blank greek chaps. his english was scanty, but rich at any rate in every foullest oath our seaports can teach the foreign visitor. nearly every other word was an emphasis of this nature. from him we learnt that the house we occupied belonged to the prince. he himself was now a hand on board the prince's steam-yacht, a very small vessel, in which the great nikita is wont to travel on the lake of scutari, when on a dynamite fishing expedition. our new friend kindly offered to act as our guide if we wished to do the lions of rieka. these consisted of two little public-houses, one famous for its wine, the other for its raki. we did them; the result was that our cicerone's english became more and more indistinct, but at the same time more and more larded with profanity, till gradually, from every other word, two out of every three words at least, were oaths. had there been one more lion to be done, i verily believe that every word of his conversation would in our country have rendered him liable to that small pecuniary penalty which our statutes inflict in such cases. raki and mastic, the favourite beverages of this part of europe, are drinkable: that is all that can be said for them. raki is a colourless spirit, extracted from the skins of grapes after the wine-making. it is not nice, but is, i should say, pure and wholesome. mastic is extracted from mountain herbs, tastes like absinthe, and is probably nearly as poisonous. this was a night of tribulation for brown. our room swarmed with the far-famed montenegrin fleas, and other still more ferocious natives. the ramparts of insecticide with which he surrounded himself availed nought. sleep he knew not. in the dead of night i was suddenly awakened by the utter collapse of the wooden bed on which i slept. it fell to pieces without any warning, and precipitated me on the floor. stories i had read in christmas annuals of robber inns, and traps that opened out in floors to swallow up the sleeping traveller, flashed across my brain. but there was no occasion for alarm. on lighting a match and inspecting the ruins, i came to the conclusion that the bed had been undermined by vermin--that was all. chapter viii. a great victory--a good old custom--on the lake of scutari--the londra--the debateable land--boat song--encampment--scutari--a reminiscence of cremorne--the brothers toshli--willow-pattern plates--at the british consulate. the next was a glorious morning. we were up at daybreak, and with the assistance of our friend, bargained with four men to take us in a boat to scutari. the captain of the village also came to our aid, and beat down the rather exorbitant demands of his countrymen. the captain was evidently an important personage--to be respected and feared; for the fellows ceased their vehement jabbering, and became very humble and quiet, when he appeared on the scene. our nautical friend told us that this _voyade_ was a distinguished warrior. he had been engaged in that great victory gained over the turks in 1858. some of my readers may remember that in that year an army of 6000 turkish regulars invaded montenegro. they had advanced some miles up one of those frightful defiles by which alone the black mountain is to be penetrated, when they were surprised by a body of montenegrins, much inferior in numbers, but having the advantage of a thorough acquaintance with every rock and crevice of the grey hills. of the 6000 turks, but six men and the commander of the expedition escaped. it was only owing to the intercession of certain of the great powers that the prince did not follow up this great victory by an invasion of the herzegovina, where, of course, all the christians would have flocked to his standard. an international commission was sent out to definitely settle a frontier-line between montenegro and turkey--as vain an undertaking as that of the present year will probably prove to be. as we knew not how long a voyage lay before us, we laid up a store of provisions in our vessel--the round wheaten cakes of the east, "baken on the coals," probably similar to those the shunamite placed before elisha long ago, a gourd of wine with a strong smack of the goat's skin, goat's milk cheese, and an abundance of fine black grapes. our boat awaited us some few hundred yards down the stream, where the water was sufficiently deep to float her; for the rieka is here but a shallow brook. our boatmen had a good deal of poling and wading to do for the first mile or so, as we were constantly grounding on the shingle banks. before leaving, a ceremony had to be observed which prevails all over these countries, and which, like many good old customs, has died out in more civilized countries. our host tucked a bottle of raki under his arm, and, taking a small glass in his hand, accompanied us to where we were to embark, and then handed round the final stirrup cups in most liberal manner. the _londra_, as the boat of the country is called, is a roughly-made, flat-bottomed affair, with prow and stern alike--sharp pointed, and running up high out of the water, something like the venetian gondola. these boats are of every size, from the small cranky tub propelled with one oar, to the lengthy twelve-oared vessel. they have little beam, and must be exceedingly dangerous on the lake in choppy weather--indeed, accidents often occur; but every one here is so happily careless, and trustful in _kismet_, that these ricketty coffins have not been superseded by any more seaworthy craft. the _londra_ is tarred inside and out; there are no benches; the passengers squat on their blankets at the bottom of the boat. the rowers stand up facing the bow, and force their long clumsy sweeps through the water in short, quick jerks. [illustration: the londra. _page_ 102.] they do not make use of rollocks, but twist vine or clematis branches into grommets, which run through holes made for the purpose in the gunwale. these grommets soon wear out, and have to be replaced three or four times in a day's journey. the londra, notwithstanding its rough build, progresses at a very fair pace, so long as it does not meet with a strong head-wind, when its little hold on the water is much against it. having comfortably settled ourselves at the bottom of our vessel, among our blankets and saddle-bags, we bid adieu to our sailor friend with an _au revoir_ in london, when he should next visit that port, and got under weigh. our crew consisted of four brigand-like montenegrins, who were dirty and miserable, in all save their weapons, which were beautiful. one was the proud possessor of a long pistol, with a silver hilt inlaid with precious stones, the spoil of the turk. each had his gun with him, so we were a formidable-looking party. the banks of the rieka are exceedingly fine; rocks and dense foliage on either side, with occasional glimpses of the great mountain behind. where the river broadened into the lake we rowed through large fields of waterlilies in full bloom. the country seemed altogether uninhabited. we passed one or two londras, whose crews entered into animated discourse with our men, evidently anxious to know who the european travellers might be. at last we were on the great lake. on all sides it is shut in by lofty mountains, some, i should say, quite 10,000 feet in height. its surface is studded with numerous bare rocky islands, uninhabited by man, but noisy with multitudes of wild fowl and pelicans. egrets, divers, and ducks, are very numerous on this water. we hugged the western or montenegrin shore, for the provisions of the berlin treaty have given nearly all this side of the lake to the principality. we were struck by the extreme desolation of the country; gaunt, uncultivated mountains fell to the water's edge. population there seemed to be none. once we saw a village on the shore; on approaching it, it proved to be ruined, deserted--a mere heap of charred débris--a melancholy relic of fierce frontier war. here, as later on, on the plains of podgoritza, i noticed that there was a sort of debateable land on the borders of the two countries--a desert region, where men dare not build or cultivate, not knowing when the dogs of war should again be loosed. thus rich plains are left to the wolf and lynx, the peasant preferring to build his homestead in the poorer but more secure fastnesses of the mountains, than on the rich lowland, where he would sow only that a hostile horde should reap. as there was a slight breeze, our men hoisted a small square sail, of whose use they seemed to have but little idea. they made fast the sheet and tack to the weather gunwale, and attempted to sail close hauled. we moved through the water it is true, but astern and to leeward. much wrangling then ensued as to the proper method of navigating the vessel. ultimately the crew lowered their canvas in despair, of which we were not sorry, for we very nearly capsized once in a slight squall. halyard and sheet were securely knotted, and of course the clumsy craft would not come up to the wind. had the puff been a little stronger we must have gone down. swimming would not have been easy with our heavy accoutrement. we could not converse much with the men, as our knowledge of montenegrin was exceedingly limited. we had compiled a little dictionary, with the assistance of our friends, at cettinje. the usual programme of handing tobacco round, examining each other's arms, was gone through. brown rather astonished one of the crew; he had taken hold of the fellow's rifle, and wishing to express his approval of it, pointed to it and read out of the dictionary what he thought was sclav for "good gun," but which on more careful inspection proved to signify "roast mutton." all day we paddled along the lone shore, but no town was yet in sight. the evening brought with it one of the most magnificent sunset effects i have ever witnessed. the near mountains on our starboard hand assumed a cold dark appearance as the sun set behind them. their deep barren defiles had a weird bleakness about them, such as one sees in lifeless arctic landscapes. but far away on the port hand, across the water, the rays of the setting sun fell full on the great albanian mountains, which towered behind the broad plain that fringes the eastern shore of the lake. every detail of the fantastic peaks and fissures of the barren granite was sharp and distinct in this clear atmosphere. where the rock jutted out it was lurid crimson, as of red-hot coal--elsewhere, of lovely rose and golden tints, while the darker shadows of the hollows were of a deep purple or violet. so utterly barren were these great offshoots of the mount _scardus_, that under this strange light the scenery was of a peculiarly unearthly and weird nature. one could almost imagine oneself to be gazing at a landscape of some lifeless star--a chaos of molten matter--silent but for the occasional roar of fire and volcanic action. but the blue shadows soon rose up from the water's edge, till the last highest peak lost its crown of fire, and the fine day was succeeded by a lovely starlit night. the day had been hot, but now it became intensely cold; the wind, which was right in our teeth, freshened; the ripple that broke on the shingle shore became louder; and soon the surface of the lake was broken into short choppy waves capped with foam, that glistened in the starlight. the water washed occasionally over our bulwarks in ominous splashes. there was evidently quite enough sea for our frail craft. but our men, though they made little progress against the head-wind, pulled on pluckily, encouraging themselves with a wild barbaric chant, which was caught up now by one, now by another--a monotonous yet energetic song, to which their blades kept time. one of these boat-songs was afterwards translated to me. it runs something thus (i have preserved to a certain extent the irregularity of the original):- now then, my hawks, pull! pull! let the boat fly over the water! the rocks on the shore are full of arnauts, thirsty for our slaughter. but we fly swifter than their bullets go. they cannot take aim, so swift we row. pull! my hawks, pull! long before their slow feet can return we will fall upon their village--sack and burn, tear up the smoking rafters of their homesteads into torches that shall light our homeward way, laden with rich spoil and foemen's heads. now then, my hill hawks, pull away! pull! my hawks, pull! we expected every moment to see the lights of scutari burst upon us as we rounded some rugged promontory; but hour after hour of the night passed by, and still no sign of human habitations. suddenly our boatmen rested on their oars, and entered into a short discussion. when they had come to a decision they pointed to the shore, and endeavoured to explain something to us; what, we could not make out. the dictionary we had compiled at cettinje was a modest work, containing only words of greeting and the names of strict necessities. the next operation of our crew was to run the boat high and dry on the shingle beach; they then disembarked, and beckoned us to follow. a fire was soon made up with the brushwood and oleander that grew thickly on the bank. [illustration: scutari fishing harbour. _page_ 109.] what next? we wondered. was this merely a halt for a little rest and supper? or had our crew struck work, and determined to camp here for the night? we soon found out that the latter was their intention; for after we had supped and smoked a few cigarettes, they one by one rolled themselves up in their cloaks and fell asleep, feet to the fire. we followed their example, and in consequence of our close proximity to the montenegrins experienced the attacks of vast armies of fleas. at four in the morning we got under weigh; it was still dark, but the first faint streak of dawn was visible over the eastern hills. we discovered, later on, that we had encamped on the beach till daylight, because all boats are prohibited from approaching scutari during the night. three turkish gunboats are stationed off the town, by whom we should have been challenged and stopped, had we proceeded. at about seven in the morning we reached scutari. first we had to row through a curious fishing village, which is at the junction of the lake and the broad river that here flows into it. a large number of thatched huts, built on piles, form regular streets in the centre of the stream. then the town lay before us, with its old venetian fortress perched on a lofty rock in the back ground. we were not much struck by the general appearance of the capital of north albania--a dingy, dilapidated bankrupt sort of a place it seemed to be. scutari is built on the flat promontory formed by the river bojana, which takes off the waters of the lake to the adriatic, and another river, which flows into the lake after having crossed the spacious plain which lies between scutari, and the distant mountains of biskassi. on landing, no custom-house or custom-house officers were anywhere visible. we paid off our ship, selected a ragged-looking ruffian to carry our luggage, shouldered our rifles, and marched off to the hotel toshli, at the other end of the straggling town, which had been recommended to us by the gendarme whose acquaintance we had made on the austrian lloyd steamer. our first impressions of the city were not favourable. it had an appearance of melancholy decay, still trying to keep up an appearance. the mosques, and some of the better turkish houses, were rather gaudily ornamented with wooden carvings and bright paint; but now the carvings were broken, and the paint half rubbed off. there was a tea-garden-in-liquidation look about the place. i remember once seeing cremorne by daylight. it was some time after outraged respectability had closed the gardens; the occasion being a patriotic meeting which was held there, during the russo-turkish war. it was a sad sight to one who had known the place in other days. the plaster statues were broken; the pagodas and the other gimcrack edifices were mouldy, tumbling to pieces, and destitute of paint. this melancholy city of scutari reminded me irresistibly of cremorne that day. everything had been allowed to fall into decay. any repairing of public or private buildings had long been given up by government and people. one rickety mosque was very funny; its steeple was tiled, if i may use the expression, with the sides of paraffin boxes and huntley and palmer's biscuit tins. the rough paintings on its walls were chipped and dim. the very mollah, in his turban and dirty blue robe, who stood at the door, had a dissipated and unkempt appearance, which harmonized with his surroundings. our first impressions of the inhabitants were no less unpleasing. there was a haggard, anxious, half-starved expression in the faces of all we met--a savage fierceness in their eyes, which we had not observed in montenegro. no one besides ourselves was in european costume, but we attracted no attention; all stalked by us with the utmost indifference. every man we met--kilted mussulman, or white-clad arnaut--was armed to the teeth. it was some way to toshli's. we passed through many narrow streets, paved in a fashion well calculated to dislocate the ankles, and traversed numerous grave-yards, neglected and filthy in the extreme. the hotel turned out to be an unpretending sort of an establishment, half grocery, half café. it was kept by two brothers, greeks from janina. it was situated in the principal street of the christian quarter, close to the foreign consulates. toshli's is a rough free-and-easy sort of place, but is to be recommended. the cuisine was really very fair. it was curious to observe in the grocery how many english commodities were procurable. on the shelves i saw huntley and palmer's biscuits, cross and blackwell's pickles, and, most wonderful of all, brown windsor soap--an article for which i should imagine that there could be no demand in albania. one meets with certain english manufactures in the most remote regions of the world. i have bought gillot's steel pens in an arab town in a remote oasis of the saharah. another curious fact is, that here at toshli's, and everywhere else in eastern europe where plates are in use, one invariably meets with our old willow-pattern services. there is a very large exportation of these from england to these countries. the café of the hotel, in which is a billiard-table, is much frequented by the christian merchants, and the turkish military doctors of the garrison; these are all christians, being armenians, greeks, poles, and other foreigners. italian is understood by many of the christian merchants here, being the language of commerce on these coasts. there must, i should say, be a certain amount of italian blood in the veins of the citizens of scutari, for it was long one of the strongest venetian dependencies, and sustained one of the most heroic sieges of history, when mahomet ii. overran eastern europe, in the fifteenth century, with his vast hordes of infidels, inflamed with uninterrupted success. scutari was finally acquired by turkey in 1479, by treaty. the brothers toshli received us with open arms, for the gendarme had prepared them for our arrival. having settled ourselves in a comfortable bed-room, which was elegantly draped with strings of malodorous--not to say putrid--sausages, we indulged in some café-au-lait, a luxury we had not enjoyed for some time. we then called on mr. kirby green, the british consul-general for north albania, and chargé-d'affaires for montenegro. this gentleman seemed exceedingly glad to see us, met us with outspread hand, and the remark that "it was rare to see any of his countrymen out here, it was quite an eventful day for him." during our stay in scutari, mr. green did all in his power to assist us in every way. this gentleman, whose experience of eastern character is very extensive, is emphatically the right man in the right place. it was surprising to find what influence he has in the country, and how excellently he upholds the dignity of england. he stands very high in the opinion of the natives of both creeds. "yes, he is pasha here, and greater than the pasha," was often said of him in my hearing, both by christians and mohammedans. they hold him in high respect; and the firmness and justice with which he invariably acts, astonishes and pleases these orientals, so little accustomed to the like. up in the wild mountains, later on, when among the fierce miridites and klementis, no sooner did the men we met hear that we were from scodra (as scutari is called by the albanians) and friends of zutné green, the savage frown and suspicious handling of yataghan would change to smile of pleasure, and hand outstretched in welcome. we told mr. green what our plans were, and asked him if they were feasible. we thought of traversing albania from north to south, from scutari to the port of previso, opposite corfu, by the route of priserin, ochrida, monastir, and janina. mr. green is not a man to discourage travellers without good cause, but said, "priserin, let me tell you, is the headquarters of the albanian league, an organization of the most fanatical mussulmen of the country, whose object is to resist the austrian advance, and the montenegrin claims, by force of arms. "these men are now worked up to a high pitch of religious zeal, and hatred of the christians. priserin is, with perhaps the exception of mecca, the most dangerous spot for a christian in all mohammedan countries. it is true that they may receive you very well, as englishmen, and entertain you with the greatest hospitality; or they may cut your throats as soon as they see you. it is a toss up which of the two they will do. "you will be either honoured guests, or abominations to be instantly put to death. "they are the same men that murdered mehemet ali, at jakova. so i advise you to consider the matter carefully." as guests at mr. green's table, later on in the evening, we received a lot of very useful information as to the state of the country, and the ways and means of travelling through it. chapter ix. condition of albania--her races--the mussulman--the christian--the arnaut--prince scanderbeg--turkish rule--albanian language--gendarmes on strike--a scutarine beauty--courtship and marriage--nuns. having now brought my readers into albania, it does not seem out of place to here give a rough sketch of this almost unknown province of turkey. the first thing that strikes one is the utter lawlessness of the people. the turks have never assimilated their remoter possessions. it is not in their character to do so. they seem, even after so many centuries, to be merely temporarily encamped in albania. they have pachas and garrisons in the towns, but the natives enjoy a surprising amount of independence, and are allowed to do pretty well as they like. indeed, the government is very weak here, neither feared nor respected--merely tolerated. the mountain tribes are almost as little under turkish rule as were the montenegrins themselves, over whom, until the treaty of berlin, the porte claimed a suzerainty. out of the towns, turkish officials are not to be found. a powerful tribe will often refuse to pay the _dimes_ to the tax farmer, when a bloody and cruel war will probably ensue, lingering on for years in the hills, in which the government troops will often come off the second best. at the period of our visit, albania is in a state of positive anarchy--the gendarmerie on strike, the soldiers refusing to salute their officers, neither having received pay for months, while the natives hold seditious meetings publicly, and unmolested, in the mosques of the garrison towns, in which rebellion against the porte is fearlessly advocated. nowhere is the rotten condition and utter helplessness of the porte more apparent than here. the natives, though of one race, may be divided into three classes, differing very much in manners and character. first, we have the albanian mohammedan. this is the "wild albanian kirtled to the knee"--in north albania, found chiefly in the towns. he is the aristocrat, maybe an owner of lands in the mountains, which he lets out to arnaut tenants, living on his rents. he is intensely proud of his caste, a despiser of his christian fellow-townsmen. courteous, gentlemanly, not over strict in the observance of his creed, he will drink raki on the quiet with an easy conscience. his walk is a haughty stalk. with his gold-embroidered vest, bright sash--his leather pouch in front, in which are stuck two gold-hilted jewelled pistols and yataghan, his many-folded snowy festinelle, or kilt, which swings from side to side as he struts along--he is indeed an imposing-looking figure. secondly, we have the christian town's-man of the latin church--how different in every respect! he wears the fez, turkish jacket, baggy trousers tied in at the knee, followed by white socks, and european elastic-side boots. as a christian the law forbids him to carry arms. there is the timid, fawning, insincere look in his face, so characteristic of the oppressed. these christians are all traders or merchants, many of them wealthy, but not daring to be over ostentatious, for they live in fear and dread of their unscrupulous neighbours of the other creed, who have on more than one occasion pillaged the christian quarter. their position is much what that of the jews was in medieval europe. the dress of the christian town's-women is not becoming, though exceedingly expensive. their robe is heavy and thick with gold embroidery, which crackles loudly as they walk. out of doors they are enveloped in a very ugly red cloak: it is baggy and shapeless. take an egg, paint it red, cut a good slice off one end and stand it up--you will form a very good idea of a scutarine christian lady in outdoor costume. as they are veiled, like the mohammedans, it is equally impossible to judge of the beauty of either face or figure. next we have the third class of the population, the most interesting of all, the country people--or rather, mountaineers, for little but mountain is there in north albania. these are the arnauts--skipitars, as they call themselves--a fierce, hardy race of almost savages, independent, unconquered by the turks. they too are latin christians, but how different from their co-religionists in the town! their features are indicative of minds that would not tolerate slavery. they stalk proudly through the streets of the towns, bristling with arms, notwithstanding the laws which forbid the christian to do so. these warlike tribes are too strong to heed the regulations of the feeble government. their dress is simple, but very manly and workmanlike. they are clad in white homespun from head to heel. their head-dress is a white skull cap; sometimes they twist a long scarf round the head and under the chin, very much in the style of the bedouin--this is the "shawl-girt head" that byron speaks of; a white jacket, with tight sleeves reaching to the wrist, of thick woollen stuff, ornamented with black braid here and there; trousers of the same material, and similarly black braided, baggy behind, but thence close fitting to the leg until they reach the ankle, where they are slit and open out--exactly the cut indeed of the nether garments of the american indian, except that the lower end is of thicker material, and has the appearance of a gaiter, though it is of one piece with the rest of the garment; opunkas on the feet; a sash round the waist, of common red stuff or of silk, according to the wealth of the man; round the waist a belt, with leather pouch in front, in which the long beautifully worked pistols and yataghan are stuck; a belt of martini-henry cartridges over the sash, if he own one of these rifles--if not, a belt from which depend quaint elegantly-carved cartridge and oil-rag boxes, of gold or brass, and long tassels of black silk. such is the appearance of an arnaut mountaineer--a grand costume, showing off the supple, erect frame--the very dress for a savage warrior. the arnaut, like the mussulman, shaves his head, leaving a little bunch of hair on the scalp. this gives him a very indian-like and ferocious appearance. no one who has not seen it can form an idea how this shaving increases the savageness of the expression. the dress of the women is as hideous as that of the men is handsome. it is not unlike that of the montenegrins. their heads are swathed in richly-hued shawls. their dress is of very thick coarse material, and shapeless. they are fond of wearing leather bands round the waist, ornamented with pins, which are thrust through the leather, with their ends bent up, their heads thus forming elegant patterns on the outside. round the neck and on the dress, the arnaut belle wears strings of piastres, swanzickers, and other small coins. her legs are swathed thickly with a sort of gaiter, which completely prevents one from forming any idea as to the shapeliness of her lower limbs. most of the mountaineers still wear over their shoulders the curious little black cloak, not unlike the tippet which english ladies have recently copied from their coachmen, which was adopted in mourning for the death of the great albanian hero scanderbeg, whose exploits are still sung over the wintry fire by many a mountain bard, to the melancholy accompaniment of the mandolin. there is not an albanian who is not acquainted with his history. albania was once an independent christian country, though paying tribute to the porte. john castrioti was prince of the mountain fortress of kroia and the surrounding country. in 1404 a son was born to him, who was christened george. this was the future hero and deliverer of albania. the prince was persuaded to send this son to the court of murad ii. to be educated. contrary to the promises made to the father, the boy was brought up in the mohammedan faith, and when old enough he entered the turkish army. on the death of castrioti, murad seized his dominion, and attempted with fire and sword to convert the people to the true faith. from that time scanderbeg formed a design to expel the turk and liberate his countrymen. he swore a great oath in secret, that never till he died would he cease to wage war on the turk. the opportunity soon came. he entered into a secret agreement with the hungarians, and with their assistance defeated the turks at nissa with great slaughter. a fierce war, in which no quarter was given, was then commenced between the albanians and their oppressors. driven at times into the fastnesses of the mountains; scanderbeg ever renewed his brave, seemingly fruitless attempt, when occasion offered. ultimately he succeeded in driving the turks out of albania; he renounced the mohammedan faith, and established himself on the throne of his fathers. even when he lived the deliverer was almost worshipped as a god. he died in 1467. then the albanians, deprived of his skilful generalship, were in time subjugated by the turks. prince george castrioti was without doubt an extraordinary man. the name of scanderbeg (alexander) was given him by the turks, in their admiration of his prowess. to say that the turks have subjugated the arnauts is not strictly correct. their position is something like that of the french in the remoter parts of algeria. they hold certain towns, the intervening country being occupied by independent tribes, governing themselves, having their own laws. why, if a turkish pasha wishes to traverse the mountains through the district of a certain tribe, he must consult the boulim-bashi, the town-representative or consul of that tribe, obtain his permission--his safe-conduct--ere he dare undertake the journey. the administration of criminal law is not a large item of the expenses incurred by the turkish government in their rule of albania. they leave all this to two unpaid judges, who have from time immemorial been the only two dispensers of justice tolerated by the free people--viz., judge lynch and judge vendetta. of these i shall have more to say by-and-by. the arnauts are divided into several powerful clans, of which the clementis and the miridites are the most important in this district. the tribes differ slightly in costume and language. some tribes, like the miridites, are in a wretched condition, starving in their mountains, the result of a long protracted war with the government, originating probably in some petty dispute with a tax collector. these wars hang on in a desultory way for years, until the wretched highlanders, in order to support existence, are obliged to become bandits and cattle-lifters--outlaws--the enemies of all men. a miridite is now a wretched object generally. i have seen them crawl through the narrow alleys of the bazaar of scutari, ragged, scowling at every one, haggard and weak with hunger, their arms sold for bread--the sign of extreme poverty, for it is a bitter thing for an arnaut to part with his beloved weapons, heirlooms as a rule. the ramrod of his lost pistols alone dangles from his belt. this, curiously enough, no man ever seems to part with--probably because it is unsalable. the albanians are by some supposed to be the descendants of the ancient pelasgi, and of a far purer race than are the modern greeks. from the uniformly classic features of the people i should be inclined to adopt this view. the men have splendid skulls, lofty broad brows and small delicately moulded features. the women are the most beautiful in eastern europe. the children are lovely. they have large solemn eyes and splendid mouths--this latter is their most striking feature--slightly turned down at the sides, which gives a singularly sweet and thoughtful expression. one cannot be long among the arnauts before perceiving that they are evidently of a noble and ancient race, to which the montenegrin and other sclav races will bear no compare. the polite manners, the delicacy of perception and tact of these otherwise savage mountaineers, is very pleasant. fierce and cruel as foes, reckless of life, they yet are splendid friends; faithful--knowing not what treachery is--truthful, virtuous; hospitable, jovial companions, abstemious as a rule, yet not disinclined on grand occasions to pass freely round the cheering raki (a spirit extracted from grape skins after the wine is made) and the absinthe-like mastic. the language of the skipitars, as the arnauts call themselves, varies much in different districts. old illyrian probably in origin, it contains greek, latin, and sclavonian words, in almost equal proportion; at least, so it seemed to me, here in the north. for instance, here are the first thirteen numerals in albanian; the three tongues i mention are all traceable in these--_gni_, _du_, _tre_, _kater_, _pens_, _giasct_, _sctat_, _téte_, _nand_, _deit_, _gnim-deit_, _dum-deit_, _trem-deit_. the albanians do not write in sclav characters as do their northern, nor in greek as do their southern neighbours, but, unlike all other races hereabouts, use the latin character. in addition to our twenty-four letters, they have five others, something like, yet differing in form and pronunciation from, certain of the greek letters. such are the inhabitants of the country--a country as wild as they. well did byron call albania "the rugged nurse of savage men." the acroceraunian mountains and the mount pindus send their branches across the whole province. rugged rocks are heaped one upon the other, with summits hidden in the clouds. it is a region of tempests, which, like to montenegro, is too poor and barren to produce aught but warriors, who seem ever to thrive best on poor soil, as the stately pines do. the products of the country are few. the acorns of the vallona oak, which are used for dyeing purposes, martin skins, and boxwood, are the only exports; and not much of these finds its way out of the country. the history of albania would afford much of interest to any one who would study it. once included in the great bulgarian kingdom, then divided into small principalities, albania was at last, not without much bloodshed, absorbed by her two powerful neighbours--venice on the north, turkey on the east. all the valour of prince scanderbeg could only delay for one lifetime the subjugation of his beautiful native land. our friend the officer of gendarmerie called on us on the following morning. with him we took a stroll through the town. he was rather melancholy. he had received no pay for fourteen months, and was commencing to be disgusted with his profession. his men were in still more wretched plight. their red uniforms were ragged and torn; many were barefooted. the poor fellows seemed to be all half-starved. at the present moment they were on strike--"en grève," as our friend rather mildly termed what we should call mutiny. i do not imagine the community loses much by their defection, for the gendarmerie in albania is a miserable and almost useless body of men. it might fairly be asked what is the good of having police at all in a country where murder and every other crime are recognized institutions? even rebellion and treason seem not to be punishable offences, for, as i shall have to narrate further on, the albanian league hold seditious meetings under the very nose of the pashas. what then have the police to do? with our friend as cicerone to explain all we saw, we traversed the christian, and then the mohammedan quarter of the town. the streets of the latter are dismal alleys, with lofty walls on either side; for the mussulman is a person of retiring habits. he loves to build his house, and establish his harem, in the centre of a pleasant garden, which he surrounds with such high walls that no prying eye can spy his conjugal bliss. a semi-detached villa would never suit him. a door in one of these walls was open, so brown peeped through into the garden within, to the great horror of our companion, who told him if the jealous turk saw him he would instantly send a bullet into him. this officer--who, as i believe i have already explained, is a roman catholic christian--took us to his house, and introduced us to his sister, an exceedingly pretty woman. the indoor costume of the albanian ladies is much more becoming than the ugly scarlet garment that completely conceals their beauty in the streets. this lady was the wife of a wealthy christian, and her dress was exceedingly costly. the jacket was stiff with beautiful gold embroidery, and large gold coins hung from her neck and girdle. the manners of an albanian lady are very pretty and gracious. she brought us coffee with her own hands--small and beautifully-formed as are those of all her race--and sat by us on a heap of cushions, deftly made herself a cigarette, and commenced smoking. she conversed with us in broken italian, which fell very prettily from her charming lips. the women of this country do not wither up into old hags by the time they are thirty, as do most orientals and southerners, but preserve their peachy complexions and youthful beauty as long as do the women of our own island. it is true they often get over-corpulent, owing to their exceedingly sedentary lives. a woman of the higher orders but rarely leaves her house; and as she is perpetually squatting cross-kneed, in turkish fashion, on a divan, or rug, her lower limbs become rather deformed, the result being that her walk is a very ungraceful waddle, rather like that of a well-fed duck. our friend's sister had been but recently married. courtship is curiously managed among the scutarine christians. the lover--if he can be so called--never sees his intended till the day of his marriage. a young girl is confined in her father's house for a few years before she arrives at a marriageable age. no men but her nearest relatives ever see her. when her parents consider she is old enough, they let it be known among their friends that they have a marriageable daughter on hand. probably the young lady's brother will come up to you--if you are a good catch--some day in the street, and say, "you are just the man i wanted to see. my sister is now fourteen years of age. you must marry her." it is an insult to refuse such an offer, for it is generally looked upon as a great honour. however, if the benedick be rather doubtful as to the advantages of the match, and is desirous of ascertaining whether his proposed bride be endowed with personal attractions, he goes off to an old woman, whose profession it is to intervene in such cases. she calls on the bride, inspects her, and returns to give him an unbiassed summing-up of the young lady's qualities. if he is satisfied, the wedding-day is fixed, but not till the last moment does he view his bride. after the marriage ceremony a very curious performance is gone through. the albanians entertain peculiar ideas as regards women. to linger with, to be affectionate with, the fair sex, they consider to be degrading to a man's dignity, unfitting him for the sterner business of war. thus the youth affects to despise the sex, is very shy of showing the slightest regard for it. his sentiments, indeed, are very much those of english boys of a certain age, who would blush to be seen playing with girls. now, during the marriage feast the bride retires to a room. the bridegroom refuses to follow, and is bound to offer strong resistance; while the other guests--father-in-law, mother-in-law, and all--slap and push in the sham-reluctant one, who at last has to yield to superior numbers, and enters the chamber. as a young lady is so closely confined to her parents' house until the day of her marriage, she naturally is very anxious to quit a single state, which is by no means a state of blessedness. should years go by, and no suitable youth accept her hand--for, as i have shown, he can hardly be said to demand it--one course is open to her, in order that she may gain that freedom she yearns after. she becomes a nun, and adopts the white robe of the scutarine sisters. the nuns here are by no means confined within great stone walls, as in some countries. they must attend certain services at the church, but at other times they wander about at their own sweet will, and enjoy an absolute liberty that none others of their sex ever acquire in the east. as a natural consequence, if scandal is to be believed, their lives are not entirely unbrightened with flirtations with the other sex. chapter x. the bazaar--turkish gipsies--the vendetta--an assassin--a way to pay debts--bosnian refugees--a card-party--paving-stones--burglars--army doctors--change for a ten pound note--our horses. after this we visited the bazaar. imagine a labyrinth of narrow lanes, paved with large round blocks, polished by the feet of many generations; the open booths laden with every variety of european and eastern goods; the roofs of every height and at every angle, projecting far over on either side--almost meeting in places--joined by festoons of vines, that keep out the glare of the midday sun; and a thick crowd of armed men and veiled women, some mounted, some on foot, in every variety of barbaric costume. here is an armourer's shop, the owner, a sour-looking mohammedan, in snowy festinelle, jacket stiff with gold embroidery, sits cross-legged on his counter, surrounded with every sort of weapon. the arnaut gun, with flint lock, narrow steel stock beautifully worked, and damascened barrel fully five feet long, silver inlaid, and hooped with gilt bands, first attracts our attention. the barrels of these guns are rarely of albanian make, but have been handed down from father to son for generations, and are re-stocked over and over again ere they are condemned. most of them are of venetian make; the marks of the most famous gunmakers of the old republic are found inscribed on them. i came across several tower-marked barrels of antique date, seeming strange in their albanian stocks. here we have yataghans, some with plain ivory hilt, others glittering with gold and precious stones, worth a prince's ransom. here is the long-barrelled miridite pistol, with quaintly-carved brass stock. here all the accessories for killing one's fellows--cartridge belts, carved brass cartridge and oil-rag boxes, flints soaking in a pan of water, and so on. the next stall is a potter's. he works steadily at his wheel, and surrounds himself with gracefully-formed bowls and pitchers of red clay. then we have the fruiterer: pomegranates, figs, oranges, vegetables, and fruits too unknown to us, lie in profusion on his counter. here is a worker in leather. he provides you with richly-ornamented saddlery, belts for your sweetheart ornamented with the heads of pins, purses, and the curious treble sack which the arnaut straps in front of him to hold his yataghan and two lengthy flint pistols. here is a man embroidering a piece of black or red cloth with the most artistic and delicate patterns in gold or silk. this is to be portion of the garment of a woman of rank. here is the carpenter. he is at work on a large square box of deal, coarsely painted with bright colours. this is intended to contain the _trousseau_ of the bride, and is the prominent object of the woman's apartment in an albanian house. in short you can buy anything in the bazaar, from a horse to a para's worth of halvar. one of the most curious sights of the bazaar is its gipsy quarter. after traversing one or two sordid alleys, one comes upon a sort of terrace, where, scorning the sun or rain, unprovided with stall or booth, are the zingali tinkers. a wilder and more uncouth lot i never cast eyes upon. dressed, or rather ragged, in a strange oriental costume of their own, blackened by exposure, speaking a tongue unknown to all here, there is something very uncanny in them--no wonder that the superstitious arnaut fears and dislikes them. the women are unveiled, their breasts are bare, and the old hags could well stand as models for a witch of endor, or any other unearthly and fearsome thing in female human form. the gipsy has a greater _raison d'être_ here than elsewhere in europe. the proud races of these regions, more especially the montenegrins, consider it degrading in the highest degree to work in iron, except in the case of the manufacture of arms. thus, whereas the albanians of scutari, jakova, and priserin are excellent workers in other metals, all tinkering is left to the despised zingali. it is quite the proper thing to have a stall in the bazaar. men of the highest rank sit behind their wares for a few hours of the day, not perhaps caring much whether they sell or not; but this crowded mart is the common rendezvous, and answers the purpose of a club. as you force your way through the crowd some friend will recognize you, and beckon you to squat by him on his counter, among the cheap manchester goods, while you talk over the latest gossip over coffee and cigarettes. we soon had formed so many friendships, that a stroll through the bazaar meant for us the swallowing of prodigious quantities of the thick eastern coffee, which, by the way, is the best of all, if properly made. it is by no means unusual to have your shopping disturbed by the report of fire-arms. i have already alluded to the blood feud, or vendetta of albania. this is here carried to an extent quite unknown in other countries. indeed, the franciscan missionaries told me that it is very rare indeed to find a really old man in the mountains, the chances being so much in favour of any given man being killed sooner or later in these constant feuds. it is in the bazaar, on market-days, that men of two families engaged in a vendetta are most likely to meet. you can generally tell whether a man has a feud on hand, by his furtive look; his pistols are cocked, he carries his gun also cocked in his hand, and looks behind him constantly, for fair play is unknown here. to stab a man behind his back is quite legitimate. the arnauts are roman catholics, and, as christians, are by law forbidden to carry arms in the towns. but these powerful tribes are too strong to heed the government regulations. no arnaut ever comes into the town without his arms, and no one dares interfere with him. our friend the gendarme took us to the stall of a friend of his--a notable man, bektsé tchotché by name. he was an ill-featured albanian mussulman, about forty years of age, dressed in a national costume that must have cost hundreds of pounds, so rich it was. the blade of his yataghan was inlaid with an elaborate gold device from point to hilt. its handle was rough with large diamonds. his long albanian pistols were gold hilted, and beautifully carved. this fellow, a man of rank, does not seem to carry on any ostensible trade at his stall, but it was hung with a collection of weapons similar to those on his person. our gendarme whispered to us, "this is a brave man; much respected; has killed more of his fellow-townsmen than any other scutarine." imagine a policeman in england seriously pointing out, as an admirable character and brave nobleman, the most atrocious murderer of the county. yet this is what this bektsé tchotché is. murder is not a crime here, however cold-blooded and cowardly. the assassin has but to fear the vengeance of the family--there are no police to interfere with him, especially if he be a mohammedan. this state of things breeds in the towns a race of ferocious bullies, ready and waiting to wash out any fancied affront with your heart's blood. this man, who is in the enjoyment of several hundreds of pounds sterling per annum, has devoted himself entirely to murder. if you meet him in the town you see him sitting erect on a gaily equipped horse, which he encourages to prance and caracole from one side of the street to the other, to the great danger of passers-by. in albania furious riding is not an offence--in fact, it is difficult to find what is. if an unoffending passer-by jolt against him accidentally on his promenade, a bullet is most probably sent into him _instanter_. as all his pistols are at full cock, and have hair triggers, they not unfrequently go off accidentally in the crowded bazaar. perfectly incredible to any one who has not visited these countries, is the light in which assassination is regarded. it is more an amusement than anything else--the sport of men. walk through the streets of scutari, and you will find the marks of bullets on every house. the following was quite a recent affair. a young swell one morning was presented with his account, a few shillings only, by his shoemaker. his noble blood could not suffer the indignity long. he walked down the bazaar, found the beast of a tradesman standing in front of his stall, holding his child in his arms, and, without a word, blew his brains out. this gentleman, i need hardly say, is still at large, and swaggers about as usual. we drank coffee with bektsé tchotché, and had a long conversation with him, the gendarme acting as interpreter. he was very kind and polite, and invited us to see him again. the bazaar at scutari is full of strange sights, but the most strange and pitiful is a scene one can witness every day outside a certain baker's, who has made a contract with the government. here for hours patiently waits a miserable crowd of wretches, men, women, and children, thin and pallid, with--yes, even smelling of--starvation. at last a door opens in the loft, and at once they seem to wake from their death-like lethargy; they press up, each trying to be first; they raise their lean arms, and utter prayers and objurgations, hoarse and cracked with hunger. a piece of undercooked maize bread is given to each, and they depart, devouring it in silence. these are bosnian refugees, families that have emigrated from their homes at the instance of the turkish government, which now can do so little for them. better for them had they stayed in their native valleys, and trusted to the justice of the austrian giaours. outside the town, by the roadside, one comes across some that are so worn with travel and hunger that they have not the energy to come with the others to receive the scant rations. here is a typical group. a veiled woman, sitting patiently by the wayside, with several small children lying by her, all starving, and one evidently dying. the father is dead--killed while resisting the infidels, far away in bosnia. these unfortunates do not beg--they sit there in mute apathy. the children, maybe, crouch up nearer to their mother when they see a giaour passing. if you show some small coins, and beckon to them, the eldest child will perhaps take courage, and painfully drag itself to you, will take the gift, look wonderingly at you with his big eyes (unnaturally big in the white shrunk face), say not a word, and return to his mother to pour what he has received into her lap. the mother all the time sits there impassive, to all outward appearance, quite heedless of what is going on, and utters not a word. it is the daily sight of these poor wretches, and the tales they have to tell, that so excited the albanian mussulmen to resist _à outrance_ any occupation of their country by austria, for of course that power is considered by them as the accursed cause of all this suffering. we returned to the house of our friend the gendarme, and had a most interesting conversation with him on the customs of his country. he narrated to us, among other things, the last little affair in the way of blood feuds. "a friend of mine," said he, "was playing at cards in the bazaar with another gentleman. the latter accused my friend of cheating. his reply, of course, was a pistol-bullet, which instantly killed the other. my friend, knowing that many of the dead man's relations were about, escaped from the town to a house he has in the mountains, where he could stay in safety for awhile. the relations of the other, being unable to avenge his death on the person of his murderer, adopted the following very clever plan to entrap and kill, without incurring any risk themselves, the nearest relative of my friend, his father. two men went to the old man's house, and told him that his son had been slain by a man of koplik, and that his murderer was now staying in a khan on the road to that village. they offered to accompany him and assist him to avenge his son's death. the old man swallowed the bait without suspicion. on a lonely part of the road, as he rode somewhat in advance of his two companions, they at the same moment fired their pistols into his back, then cutting off his head, sent it in a package to his son." thus are things managed in this pleasant land of albania. it was dark before we left our friend's house, so he sent his miridite servant to accompany us with a lantern to our hotel. scutari is not lit by night with lamps of any kind, so it is almost impossible to find one's way in the dark through the narrow intricate alleys. besides, as the paving is laid down carelessly, to say the least of it, one would run a good chance of breaking one's neck, if one dispensed with the services of a link-man. one occasionally comes across deep pits in the middle of a street, or against a rough stone projecting up quite three feet above the average level of the others. as the town is subject to floods, high stepping-stones are placed across the streets at intervals. all this makes walking in the dark exceeding unpleasant in this city. i said somewhere back that the police have little to do in scutari. they have one function at any rate. they patrol the streets at night, and arrest all who are not provided with lit lanterns. this rule is strictly enforced. if any one were walking lanternless any night in the town, and did not immediately respond to the patrol's challenge and surrender himself, he would most probably receive a rifle-bullet or so into him. burglars, provided they carry lamps, are, as far as i can make out, not interfered with by the police. an attempt to break into our consul's house was made not long ago. a watchful _cavasse_ (body-servant) saw the men in the garden, and opened fire on them with his gun from a window. the fire was returned, and kept up for half an hour or so between the two parties, simply by way of passing the time pleasantly, i suppose. the albanians are vile shots, and no damage was done on either side, beyond may be a window or so broken. the police kept carefully out of the way all the time. three army doctors dined with us at the hotel table d'hôte. they were not in a happy state of mind. their whole conversation was a vehement abuse of the turkish government. as they understood italian we were able to join in the talk. one of them, a very amusing old fellow, an armenian, waxed very warm over his grievances. "ah, signor, you have no idea what a corrupt, vile thing this turkish government is. the court eats all the country. we who work, the employés of the state, the doctors, the soldiers, never receive any pay now. we are put off with excuses on excuses, lies on lies. as long as they think they can obtain our labour for nothing, not a para will they let slip through their fingers. look at my case. i have been a doctor in the turkish army for forty years, i have been through the crimea, over all asia, in the service of the porte. i am entitled to a good pension. i have been day after day to the office at constantinople, and put my case before the authorities. they put me off with all sorts of fair promises, but i knew what that meant, so went to them day after day, and worried them so much that they decided to get rid of me in some way. 'there is a permanent hospital in scutari, in albania,' they told me. 'in consideration of your long service we appoint you as head doctor of it. start at once to your post.' now that i have travelled all this way, at my own expense mind you, what do i find? the permanent hospital no longer exists--it is a myth, and they knew it at constantinople all the time, and no doubt chuckled merrily, when i had turned my back, at the clever way they had rid themselves of the importunate old nuisance." our friend the gendarme called on us after dinner. he too had his grievance. he had just called on his commandant, in hopes of receiving some small portion of the arrears of pay due to him. the following brief conversation ensued:-"what do you want here, lieutenant p.?" "i want money." "what? eh! money! what on earth for?" "to procure bread." "ah! bread; that is well. do you know what there is in the _caisse_?" "no." "well, there is nothing; and i see little chance of there being a single para there for some time. so go, young man, and do not indulge in extravagant habits. i advise you as an older man." after a few consultations with mr. green, brown and myself determined to carry out our original plan of riding to janina, and of visiting priserin on our way, if the leaguesmen were willing to receive us in that city. our friend the gendarme offered to accompany us the whole way for a small consideration. this suited us exactly. for with him we could converse, and the chances were small of our meeting people who could understand any western language, on our route. besides, the turkish government compels all travellers to take an escort of zaptiehs. at certain stages these are changed, and another escort is given, of greater or less numerical strength according to the state of the country to be traversed. in the company of this officer, we should probably be able to dispense with this nuisance, except perhaps on a few stages where brigands were supposed to be prowling about. an escort of zaptiehs is really of little use; for when brigands are come across here, it is not in twos and threes, but in overwhelming numbers. we were rather surprised when our intended companion told us that he could easily procure letters of safe-conduct for us to the chiefs of the league at priserin and jakova, as he himself had many intimate friends among the head men of that formidable organization, at scutari. curiously illustrative was this of the present condition of this country. here was an official of the turkish government, an officer of police, openly associating and sympathizing with rebels, whose avowed object it is to throw off the turkish yoke by force of arms, and place a prince of their own choice on the old stone throne of scanderbeg at kroia. the next thing to do was to make preparations for our journey. we had spent all our gold, so found that we were obliged to change some of our english notes. this was no easy matter. after some difficulty, with the assistance of mr. green we found an old christian merchant, shouma by name, reputedly of great wealth. he might be able to manage the little affair for us. we called on him, and according to the custom of the country we indulged in coffee, sweetmeats, sherbet, and cigarettes before commencing to state our business. very suspiciously he looked at the notes. bills of exchange he would have discounted without hesitation; i believe our own promissory notes would have satisfied him. but in governments this wise man had no faith. he did not believe in a paper currency. he had observed how in his own country it had depreciated till at last it was absolutely valueless. he knew that even austria's notes were worth considerably less than the sum they are supposed to represent. i tried to explain to him what bank of england notes really were--what the difference between a convertible and an inconvertible paper currency was; but shouma evidently considered that the convertible paper was a still more subtle device of a more clever government to hoodwink and swindle the people. however, he agreed to change a ten pound note for us, provided that mr. green guaranteed that it really was worth ten golden sovereigns. mr. green was of course willing to do this for us. shouma accordingly took our note, but told us that it would take three days at least to rake together so large a sum as ten pounds in scutari. he would go that very day to the bazaar, and get as much as he could, for us to go on with. in three days, a huge packet of metallic discs, of every size and inscription, was ready for us. this was accompanied by a document, lengthy as the manifest of a mail steamer, specifying the value of this wonderful ten pounds' worth of coins. he gave us 131 piastres and a fraction for each sovereign. it took us two hours to count and verify our change. there were silver medjidiés at 22-1/2 piastres each, all sorts of curious concave plates of base metal, worth 11-1/2, 6-3/4, 13-1/2, and many other odd sums nasty to calculate. there were greek coins, russian roubles, old austrian swanzickers bearing the effigies of maria theresa, peruvian and mexican dollars, and i know not what besides. verifying one's change, is no joke in albania. to shop in the bazaar of scutari is a maddening operation, unless one heroically resigns oneself to the certainty of being cheated twice over in every transaction; for not only must one bargain fiercely and cunningly, and beat down the price the merchant asks for an article in the first instance, but after one has come to terms, and is about to hand over his fifty piastres, say, another still warmer and more utterly confusing discussion is sure to ensue as to the value of the coins one presents to him. the piece of money you yourself received as a twenty-piastre bit, he insists is worth only eighteen. "see here," he says, "this swanzicker you give me has a hole through it; that diminishes its value by two paras." two or three neighbours are called in to decide the question. each has a different opinion on the subject. the fact is that all money is acceptable here, and that, especially since turkey's reduced circumstances, the currency consists of the old, semi-defaced coinage of a dozen nations at least, whose value is arrived at by guesswork. i met no one in albania capable of telling off-hand how many piastres a given piece was worth. we spent the three days shouma had given us, in preparing for our journey, and seeing as much as we could of the habits and customs of the scutarines. as we had made up our minds to ride, we paid a visit to the bazaar to purchase two horses. all sorts of extraordinary animals were produced, and refused. at last we came across one that struck our fancy--a long-legged, extremely lean creature, tall for the country, of a red-brick colour. brown, who is a horsey man, proceeded to examine him in a scientific manner, to the admiration of the arnaut stablemen. he pointed out the weak points of the animal by signs to the dealer, who was quite as sharp as any of his fraternity in england. brown, wishing to express his disapproval of the extremely emaciated condition of the horse, pointed to his ribs; whereon the man, misunderstanding his meaning, deliberately counted them before him--a very easy process in the case of this albanian rosinante--and indignantly signified to my companion that he was too much of a gentleman to offer for sale a horse that was not provided with a sufficient number of those necessary costal supporters. the animal was then trotted out, down one of the crowded alleys of the bazaar. he found favour in brown's critical eye, so the bargaining commenced. "_sa paré?_" (how much) i asked. the dealer held up both his hands, and said, "napoleon frank"--to signify that he wanted ten napoleons. brown expressed infinite disgust, and held up two fingers. the dealer in his turn turned his back, with indignant gesticulations and exclamations at the ridiculously low offer. at last a bargain was struck, the money counted out, and the purchase delivered to us. we were mounted at the time on two horses mr. green had kindly lent us; so we led off rosso--as we named our animal, in consequence of his rosy hue--with a rope behind us. through mr. green we managed to procure another steed, a younger animal, and of more robust habit than the lean and haggard rosso. from his more gentlemanly appearance we gave him the name of effendi. we managed to pick up two saddles in the bazaar--one the regular turkish saddle, at first so uncomfortable to the novice, but gaudy with flimsy metal ornament; the other was a secondhand turkish officer's saddle, similar to that used in europe, and provided with formidable-looking holsters. we felt very proud of our purchases, and took a long ride the same afternoon over the plain, to a very fine old venetian bridge that spans a branch of the bojano, mr. green's son accompanying us. rosso and effendi proved to be all that could be desired. chapter xi. our lady of scutari--a miracle--the fête--a funeral--a drunken arnaut--our escort--two more britons--warm discussion--war--marco. the morrow (october 18th) was the great holiday of north albania, the day of our lady of scutari. long ago all this country was christian. in this city there then stood a beautiful wooden image of the virgin mary. thousands of the faithful were wont to flock hither year by year to offer their devotions at her feet, and to be healed of their infirmities; for no sick man that had faith was ever known to kiss the white feet of the image and not depart whole. but it came to pass that a certain priest made himself very unpopular among the people. i do not quite know for what cause, but at any rate a large multitude came to the church one day, and declared that unless something that they desired was granted to them they would then and there abjure the religion of christ and embrace mohammedanism. rightly or wrongly, the priest would not give in; whereupon the people tore their rosaries from their necks, and marched off to the nearest mohammedan village, that the mollahs might receive the renegades into the fold of the prophet; whereupon our lady of scutari, sorrowful and angry at the desertion of those for whom she had wrought so many good things for so many years, left her shrine in this ungrateful land. that night the wooden image disappeared. it was not heard of for months--when tidings came that on the very same night that this event happened, an image of the virgin miraculously entered a church in a remote village of italy, and there took up its abode. a loud voice was also heard, crying out over scutari, that not till the last turki (mohammedan) had left albania would our lady of scodra be appeased and forgive her children: then, and not till then, would she return to her old shrine. this day was the anniversary of the miraculous departure of the image, long ago; and an impressive service was held in the great ugly square church of the christians in this city. the interior of this building is almost entirely devoid of any ornament whatever, and bears no resemblance to any church elsewhere. the priests that minister to the spiritual wants of the albanians are franciscans and jesuits, all of whom are italians. the franciscan monks have a convent and schools. the jesuits have tried their best to monopolize the education of the people, but are not much liked. it was difficult, standing in this bleak building, in the midst of so wild and outlandish though very devout a congregation, to imagine oneself attending a christian service. the fierce-eyed shaven-headed arnaut mountaineer jostled with the mild-looking scutarine christian and kilted mussulman; for those of the other faith, curiously enough, offer their devotions on this day to the mother of the christ whom they despise. indeed though one half the albanians call themselves christians, and the other half profess to be mohammedans, there is really little distinction between them. the mohammedans worship the virgin mary; the christians make pilgrimages to the sepulchres of mussulman saints, and mingle all sorts of grotesque alien superstitions with their christianity, which the priesthood in vain strive to eradicate. i was told that even some relics of the old greek paganism linger in these mountains. i myself have seen the arnauts attempt to read the future from the entrails of a sheep which they had slain for a feast. before the service we had an opportunity of witnessing a christian funeral. the coffin was borne on the shoulders of men, while the women followed at a distance, crying and wailing, as is and has been the custom, in all the east, for all time:-"he was strong in the chase, he was handsome, he was lovable, he was brave. alas! no more will he be loved, no more will his swift feet carry him to the hunt. his enemies will rejoice, and throw away their fear. alas! alas! he has gone from us! he will be hidden in the cold earth." in the evening a band played outside the church, and the jolly franciscan monks tucked up their gowns, and proceeded to amuse the crowd with several balloons, which they filled with hot air and liberated, to the great delight of all. it was a good-humoured though savage-looking mob, and would set a good example to many a gathering of western civilization. the streets were gaily lit with many-coloured chinese lanterns. as we walked home after the termination of the proceedings, i noticed that there were one or two cases of drunkenness. there was one man, an arnaut, pretty far gone. as i consider the different effects of alcohol on the brains of different races to be a very interesting and curious study, i stood and watched the mountaineer for some time, at a safe distance; for he bristled with arms of course; and if a drunken man, carrying with him two loaded pistols, a gun, and yataghan, should run amuck, or conceive a sudden dislike to the english foreigners, the consequences might be unpleasant. however, he did nothing of the kind. the sole effect of the raki was to make him exceedingly devotional. he knelt down, raised his hands, and prayed in a loud voice, and with a most intense and passionate earnestness. he swung backwards and forwards--wrung his hands, as he worked himself into a phrenzy of religious excitement. then he kissed the muddy ground over and over again with fervour, under the impression perhaps that he was still at the foot of the empty shrine of the madonna. lastly, he fell prone, face down in the mud, dead drunk, when his friends raised him and carried him off, with looks of shame on their faces, for drunkenness is considered to be a beastly and degrading vice in this uncivilized country. while we were breakfasting on the following morning, our friend the gendarme appeared, with a very downcast and despondent visage. "the beasts!" he said. "o, these turks! i cannot go with you, friends. i had obtained leave, as you know, to accompany you on your journey through albania. well, late last night i was sent for, and told that i must stay at scutari. they had seen me often in your company, and, as is their custom, became jealous and suspicious; so they have got up some idle excuse to prevent my going with you. this is the way they treat us. they give us no pay; and when we do get a chance of making a little money, do their best to get in our way." our poor friend was very cut up, and naturally so, for to be guard of a party of inglezi was a rare windfall for him, and very acceptable in these hard times. the authorities sent us a passport, and a very strange-looking being, who was to be our escort on the morrow, one man being deemed a sufficient protection, for the first stage at any rate. he was a tall, miserable-looking zaptieh, in very ragged uniform. his face was of extraordinary length, and lantern-jawed. he was almost skeleton-like in his extreme thinness. he had evidently not known what a good meal meant for a very long time. we discovered him to be an intensely stupid and unintelligent being. this did not promise well. here we were, two englishmen, utterly ignorant of turkish or albanian, about to ride right across the country in the company of a man who would not be of the slightest use to us in any way. we gave him a good feed, in hopes that this might develop some traces of intelligence in his dense skull. all in vain. the only effect was, that after having thoroughly gorged himself, he closed his eyes, gave vent to a sort of choking sound, and fell fast asleep. everything was ready; we had bid adieu to our scutarine friends, left orders that our horses should be brought round early on the morrow--then we retired to our beds among the sausages. it was scarce dawn. there was a loud knock at our door--a rather violent knock. the door opened; we expected to see the smiling face of toshli, who had come to announce the arrival of our ghostly zaptieh and our brave steeds; but to our astonishment there entered, boisterously, two bronzed and travel-stained britons--in short, the long-lost jones and robinson, whom we had given up long ago. they stood laughing before us; but brown and myself considered it incumbent upon us to receive them in a slightly distant and dignified manner as we sat up in our beds. we asked them to give an explanation of their great dilatoriness in catching us up. we found that they had started from england a fortnight after us, but had been delayed at cattaro and other ports, in consequence of some extremely ingenious arrangement robinson, the inventor, had made for receiving money at different places on the route. they had followed in our footsteps exactly--had taken boat from trieste to cattaro, and thence walked, viâ cettinje, to rieka, where they had taken a londra for scutari. we inquired where the white elephant and other robinsoniana were. they had left them at cettinje, they said, and were going to return for them. this further delay was by no means pleasing to brown and myself. we laid our programme before them, and expected that they would fall in with it at once. a very warm discussion ensued, very nearly resulting in a re-separation of our forces. they had been very well received, it seems, by the montenegrins, and had promised some of the chieftains at cettinje that they would return to that capital as soon as they had seen scutari. the war between the principality and the albanians, so long talked of, was, they said, now but a question of a few days. they had been invited to accompany the army of prince nikita, which was on the point of advancing on gussinje, as the honoured guests of the general in command. there are certainly two sides to every question. from the little we had seen of the two countries, brown and myself had formed a decided preference for the albanians over the montenegrins; but we found that our two friends were full of praises of the black mountaineers, and abuse of the skipitars. the montenegrins have rather a knack of wheedling over strangers to their own views of the question. jones and robinson, however, to a great extent modified their opinions later on, when we had seen a little more of both sides. the discussion progressed with considerable warmth. our recently found friends insisted on returning to montenegro. brown and myself were very loth to give up our projected ride across the little-known countries of north albania. we often wandered from the point into hot dispute as to the virtues or the reverse of the respective races. ultimately a compromise was effected. we decided to convert rosso and effendi into baggage animals, and walk from scutari to podgoritza, an important town, acquired by montenegro from turkey during the late war, and which was but two days' march from gussinje. here the montenegrin forces were to concentrate, before advancing against the enemy. if we found that war was really intended, we agreed to carry out the programme of our friends. if we found that it was being indefinitely delayed, we would return to scutari, and march to previso by the route brown and myself had decided on. brown and myself gave in with great reluctance, feeling that our friends, after delaying us so long, were now about to take us on a wild goose chase after a phantom war. i do not think either of us recovered that sweetness of temper which distinguishes us until after the dinner we partook of that evening at the hospitable board of the british consulate. during the above discussion our ghostly zaptieh was announced. with the aid of our landlord we tried to explain to him that his services were no longer needed by us. this man, as i have said, was the incarnation of stupidity; as a turkish soldier, he was also a model of obedience to those who were put in authority over him. he had been ordered to conduct us to priserin--so much had got into his head; and conduct us to priserin he would, notwithstanding our insistence that we had now altered our intentions. "the pasha told me to take you to priserin," was all we could get out of him. he would have attempted to take us there by force, i believe, had we not quieted him with another full meal, which had the same soporific effect as that of the previous day. when we told mr. green of our altered plans, in the evening, he remarked that at any rate our throats would be safe in montenegro, which is more than they would be in this country. "but," he added, "if you visit podgoritza you will not be able to return here and visit priserin. they will have heard of your friendship with the montenegrin general, and will inevitably take you as spies, and treat you as such in a very summary manner. if you return here and wish to travel to janina, you must do so by the other route, which takes you through the cities of tirana, elbessan, and berat." the next day we made preparations for our journey. as it was a doubtful question whether we should find food on the road to podgoritza, an unfrequented track, with rather a bad reputation for arnauts, we purchased a horse-hair saddle-bag, and laid up a good stock of rice bread, mutton, raki, and other necessaries. robinson had brought his cooking apparatus with him to scutari, and was very anxious to bring it into use on the earliest occasion. the evening before our start we very luckily came across a man who had served as groom to captain sale, of the late frontier commission. he seemed to understand a word or two of english and italian, and had a very good character from the consulate. so we hired him for a month. a very useful fellow he turned out to be. he was dressed in full arnaut costume, which never left his back during the whole of his stay with us--five weeks, and yet, in some mysterious manner, it ever appeared snowy and new, indeed, his appearance did us credit. he was a young fellow of pleasing countenance, the chief characteristic of which was a perpetual grin. like all i met of his race, he was faithful and honest, and soon became attached to his masters. his preparations for the journey did not require much time, for his luggage consisted simply of a large gingham umbrella. chapter xii. march to podgoritza--an albanian khan--our cook--the fund--across the lake--night visitors--the frontier--podgoritza-the armourer--the war minister--dobra pushka. over our last glass of grog before turning in for the night, we had determined to start at daybreak this morning. so abominable was the weather, however, that we preferred to indulge in the comfort of our beds a little longer. an unbroken mass of cloud covered the whole sky, from which poured down a steady deluge, which had a deliberate look about it, as if it had no intention of ceasing for a month at least. jones looked out of the window, scanned the horizon mournfully, and remarking that he thought the rainy season would soon begin, got into bed again. at last we mustered courage enough to rise, ordered a substantial breakfast, and sent the faithful marco to saddle rosso and effendi. when rosso was brought in front of the hotel, he evidently objected to standing out there in the rain while we breakfasted in comfort within; so he walked into the room in which we sat, and made a very fair meal off a deal box that stood in the corner. our saddle-bags and blankets were placed on the horses' backs, and the expedition started. our gendarme and landlord saw us well out of the town, where a stirrup-cup was indulged in. we must have looked very imposing: first marco in his arnaut dress, sheltering himself with a huge umbrella, the only article of luggage he brought with him; then the two horses; and lastly, our four selves. all in top-boots--jones, brown, and myself well protected with hooded military macintoshes we had bought in turkey, while robinson was enveloped in a ponderous english yeomanry great-coat, which must have weighed something when it was thoroughly soaked. our rifles were slung to our shoulders. jones was the proud bearer of an arnaut gun, of which i shall have to say more anon. he also carried a pocket filter, slung to his shoulders. this day's journey was certainly not a pleasant one. the road from scutari to podgoritza is not much of a road at the best of times; it is a mere track. for the first day's march it traverses the plain which borders the east shore of the lake. this day it was difficult to know what was intended for lake, what for road; it was all the same. the lake had the advantage, if anything, of being the less muddy of the two. we were up to our knees in water all day. i endeavoured to enter into conversation with marco, and was grieved to find he was a fraud. yesterday, when we hired him, i spoke to him in italian and french, curiously mixed together; for i was told he understood a little of both these languages. to everything i said he replied briskly, _ça bonne, monsor, ça bonne_. this is the man for us, i said; he understands all i say. "then he must, indeed, be a wonderful man," my friends replied; "let us have him." but alas! i now discovered that marco's linguistic powers were very limited. give him an order; he never confessed to his absolute ignorance of what you were talking about, but blithely came out with his perpetual _ça bonne, ça bonne_, as if that was all that was required of him. however, by degrees i discovered what words he knew of french, what of italian, and what of english (for he had even picked up some words of our tongue when in the service of the commissioners). with the addition of a few words of sclav and albanian, i then manufactured a mongrel tongue, which was common to marco and myself, and utter gibberish to any one else. about midday we halted for lunch. we stood up to our knees in mud and water under the pouring rain, ate sausage, and each in turn made use of the filter, which was placed in the muddy water of the road, while the purified fluid was sucked through an indiarubber tube. marco was much astonished and pleased at this proceeding. a tot of rum all round completed our modest repast. on the way we were joined by a man who was also travelling to podgoritza--a montenegrin, on horseback. being alone, he was glad to join our party, well armed as we were, for the arnauts that inhabit the mountains that were to the right of us have a bad name, and are much given to plundering travellers. at last a large house rose before us. "that is the khan of coplik," said marco. "we must pass the night here, for the next house of any kind is eight hours off." we entered the khan, and found it to be a more luxurious place than we expected to find. an upper room was given to us for our use. it had no windows, but the rough stone wall and raftered roof admitted plenty of daylight, not to mention rain and wind. the floor was also well ventilated, as was the door that opened on the wooden gallery outside. as jones remarked, our chamber combined the comforts of a home with the sanitary advantages of a hydropathic establishment. there was no furniture of any kind, and the whole of the elegant chamber was blackened with smoke. we soon spread our blankets, and made ourselves very comfortable. we had brought some provisions with us, but marco was sent out in search of any dainty there might be in the establishment. in a turkish khan you are supplied with shelter and firing; bedding and provisions you are supposed to bring with you. the landlord, a grim-looking arnaut, came in with marco, and said he could let us have two fowls, but would be pleased if we came out and shot them. he evidently wished to see our weapons in use, so we gratified him. our nimrod, robinson, blew one rooster to pieces. brown was satisfied with knocking off the head of the other with a winchester bullet. (we were charged 5_d._ each for them.) a brazier of charcoal was brought up to our room, and a large pot; whereupon brown, taking upon himself the office of cook, commenced to prepare our meal, and very successful he was. he cut up the fowls, and boiled them up with slices of sausage, macaroni, grease-meal, salt, pepper, all from our commissariat bag. i am not sure he did not even add some of the flea powder as seasoning. we watched him hungrily and anxiously. awful would have been his end had he spoiled that dish. wet through as we were, we thoroughly enjoyed the meal, which we washed down with the rum we had brought with us, and raki we bought from the khanji. very contented and jovial i know we all felt afterwards as we squatted round the fire on our blankets, smoking our pipes and drinking our coffee. marco too seemed to thoroughly appreciate our cookery, and grinned happily for the rest of the day. our retiring for the night did not involve much preparation. to take off one's boots and roll oneself up in one's blanket sufficed. robinson suggested that the door should be left open, as the fumes of the charcoal fire might suffocate us in the night. considering the number and size of the orifices in roof and wall we thought this would be excess of caution. the prudent robinson had also heard many awful tales of eastern khans, and suggested that some one should remain awake. in england, before starting on this expedition, we had determined to station regular watches every night. here was a good opportunity to begin, but somehow no one seemed quite to see it; i think we were too sleepy. one good and useful suggestion was, however, made. this was, that when sleeping in perilous places we should keep brown away from his flea-powder. he would then of a certainty keep an admirable watch. in the middle of the night a gruff and sleepy voice was heard to issue from the blanket in which jones was enveloped, "bother that crumb." "what is the matter?" we inquired. "there is a crumb in my bed," was the reply. "it got under my side, and woke me up." on searching for the crumb, jones found it was his colt revolver that had thus troubled his sleep. we slept very well in spite of rain, wind, and insects, and were up at daybreak, packing our baggage for the day's march. as we gradually discovered each other's talents, we apportioned to each his particular duty on the march or in the camp. brown had displayed such great culinary skill that we unanimously elected him _chef_ to the expedition. as a branch of this important office, it was his province to decide what vegetables and other comestibles should be purchased when the commissariat bag was light. he was also a capital muleteer, and would urge on our steeds, when lazily inclined, with considerable results. robinson was so occupied with the carriage of his weighty rifle, that none of his talents had scope for manifestation on the march. however, he was a wonderful man at packing the tent and baggage, and so made himself very useful every morning in getting things in order. jones, the philosopher, was general supervisor of the others, saw that all went well, and pensively looked on while others worked. on me was inflicted the most arduous duty of all. i was dubbed the fund--that is, i was banker and paymaster. this office was conferred on me in consideration of a certain smattering i had of the latin tongues. french and italian are far more useful in turkey than are any other european languages. when we came across the franciscan missionaries, in the mountains, i conversed with these fluently and rapidly, in dog latin crossed with italian--a language that would have much astonished my masters at westminster in the olden time. there was one advantage in being fund. having command of the wealth of the party, i was followed, flattered, and made much of by the others. later on, on our return journey across europe, the office changed hands. brown became fund, and the old fund was neglected and forgotten for the new--such are men. this was a hard day's march. our route for many hours lay across the same little cultivated and monotonous plain. we saw but little game, and that we could not get at. we caught glimpses occasionally of the long line of the lake of scutari, to the left of us; while on our right, behind the rolling plains, rose the huge bare mountains of castrati. at last, as we approached the termination of the lake, the flat country came to an end, and the mountains fell down to the edge of the water. our road now became exceedingly difficult, a mere goat-track up and down the rugged hill side, now across _couloirs_ of _débris_, as they call them in the alps, now through jungles of thorn, and now up almost perpendicular rocks. the rain had ceased, and the sun was uncomfortably hot for such work as this. our montenegrin fellow-traveller, who started with us this morning, dismounted from his horse, and was obliged to push him bodily over the worst parts. we had to keep a sharp eye on rosso and effendi; they slipped and stumbled incessantly. rosso proved to be the best mountaineer of the two. effendi was far less sure-footed. this little animal again was so well fed that his circumference was a mathematical circle in form. thus, as he had none of the rosinante-like angles of rosso, which gave hold to the strappings, his pack was continually twisting round and rolling under him. at last, hot and thirsty, we reached a little plateau just over the lake, where were pitched three or four tents, the quarters of a small party of the most utterly miserable-looking turkish soldiers i had ever cast eyes upon. all were in rags. their uniforms were supplemented with some garments of the country. they were bare-footed, or wore the native punkoa. "what important garrison town may this be, marco?" said jones. "_ça bonne, monsor, ça bonne_," replied our grinning domestic. i don't know whether the place has a name; i should say it had, being in this country, where three houses constitute a town. there were three officers here, who shared one miserable tent. the poor fellows had not seen pay for a very long time. one, a crimean medallist, a defender of kars, was down with fever badly. they invited us into their wretched quarters, and ordered coffee for us. they had no sugar, but this we were able to provide them with. we also had some cakes of chocolate, which we presented to them, and which they seemed very glad to get. they were fine-looking fellows, but all had that sad look which true turks wear in these latter days. with the aid of marco as interpreter, we were able to converse with them on various subjects. they seemed to despair of their country, and, like all i met, put all the blame on the evil system of government. they told us that a londra would be here soon, bearing provisions from the fortress of helm for this post. the londra would then return, and we could go with it, thus saving ourselves a five hours' very rough march. we gladly availed ourselves of the offer, and waited for the arrival of the boat. we studied our maps, and tried to make out where we were, and what branch of the lake this might be which we were to traverse. the maps on this occasion, as on all others, gave no information on the subject. the fact of the matter is, there is no map of this part of the turkish dominions. the rivers, lakes, and towns, are put in by guess-work. the londra at last arrived. it was manned by six or seven disreputable and hungry-looking soldiers. the provisions were landed; these consisted of a few maize loaves and a small bag of rice. we bid adieu to our friends the officers, with a little difficulty persuaded rosso and effendi to embark, and were soon gliding swiftly across the smooth lake. in about an hour we had reached the opposite side. here were three or four houses, occupied by turkish officers, while the men were camped out on the edge of the lake in tents, so ragged and torn that they must have been next to useless. in the background, a few miles from the lake, there was a steep mountain, on whose summit was a large fortress. this place we found is called helm. we landed, and at once resumed our march, which lay under the mountain, and across a broad and lengthy plain which lies between podgoritza and the lake. there was no sign of cultivation anywhere. the plain was a pebbly desert, scanty grass and a sort of prickly thorn being the sole vegetation. the heavy rain had once more set in, and before we had marched very far, the waters, rushing down from the distant mountains, converted the plain into a lake, across which we waded, the muddy compound rising above our top-boots. darkness at length came on, so as we should certainly have lost ourselves had we gone much further, we entered a khan, which turned up before us just in time. it was a rougher and less civilized khan than that of the previous evening. there was but one room in it; the floor was of clay; the walls, as usual, black with the smoke of ages; and the ventilation almost too perfect. they had some goat's flesh here, so we were enabled to make an excellent meal. being tired after our long march, we then retired to our beds. just by the bar, as we chose to call the corner of the room where the raki and wine were stored, there was a broad wooden slab against the wall, supported on logs, and sloping down outward at a slight angle. this was to serve as our bed for the night. we lay side by side rolled up in our blankets. the neighbourhood was soon made aware of our arrival; the khan was filled with armed arnauts, who came and stared at us inquisitively, while they whispered to each other in a mysterious manner. there was something very comic in the situation. there we lay, stretched out in a row on that deal board, for all the world like the corpses lying side by side, in similar fashion, on the marble slab of the paris morgue. however, enveloped as we were in our voluminous blankets, nothing could be seen of us but four projecting nasal organs. but this was quite enough for our friends. throughout the night they came and went through the open door: there were never less than a dozen admiring us at a time. towards the morning the bard of the district came in, tuned up his guzla, and favoured us with a dismal selection from his _repertoire_. his voice was high and cracked, but he sang fiercely and energetically, while all the natives listened, spellbound and silent. i presume he was singing our praises--he was evidently chanting the doings of some great warriors. jones at last sneezed so violently in the middle of his song that the minstrel was quite disconcerted, and sadly laying down his instrument, stretched himself on the floor and slept. being now at peace, we followed his example. i might as well mention the fact that i have never seen a montenegrin or albanian take off his clothes before retiring for the night. i believe, except when one of these people buys a new suit, he never does, on any occasion whatever, undress. the poorer people, who never do indulge in new suits, merely patch up the old while on them. the next morning, at daybreak, we swallowed some boiling coffee, and prepared for the march. our toilet was simple enough: as jones said, "all i have to do is to rub in dubbin on my boots, and sling on my pocket filter, and i am ready." it was a bright, sunny morning. this change of the weather was very welcome to us, wet through as we had been, night and day, since we left scutari. half-way between helm and podgoritza a river crosses the plain. the rapid water has eaten for itself a deep, narrow channel with perpendicular sides. this forms the frontier between turkey and montenegro. we crossed this torrent on a well-made bridge, in whose centre was a stone, on one side of which were inscribed the arms of the mountain principality, on the other side the star and crescent of the sublime porte. from here we saw, far away over the plain, the minarets of podgoritza, standing out white against a background of dark montenegrin mountains. it was not long before we were outside the town. it had been a dreary morning's march. the plain, which with care might return much to the agriculturist, was left bare and uncultivated. one need not search far for a reason. we were on the frontier, on the scene of perpetual border frays. he who sowed here would sow for the whirlwind only. [illustration: podgoritza. _page_ 177.] close to the town was a rough sentry-box; out stepped a montenegrin sentry, quite a boy, and challenged us. we amused him by showing him our passports, which he gravely considered, first upside down, then sideways; then he held one up to the sun, then shook his head and returned them. he questioned marco as to what we were. "these are consuls inglesi," replied the faithful one; "english consuls on the spree." this was sufficient. we were saluted and allowed to pass. i believe that throughout our stay in montenegro we were invariably taken for english consuls, on a sort of happy-go-lucky holiday; anyhow, we were highly appreciated by all the natives we came across. it was very amusing to hear marco explain us to inquisitive people. some passers-by would stalk by us--too polite and proud to stare or show any surprise at our appearance; but having passed us, they would stop marco, and whisper to him, "what are these men?" "great diplomatists," would reply marco, with dignity. "consuls inglesi. that one in the spectacles is the head diplomatist. all great diplomatists wear spectacles, you know." we passed through the ruined walls which surround podgoritza, and marched down several badly-paved streets to the chief khan of the place. podgoritza is a considerable town, with a population, i should say, of 8000 at least. it is picturesquely situated on the east bank of the moracha, a turbulent stream, and one of the chief feeders of the lake of scutari. a large proportion of the inhabitants are mohammedans. the treaty of berlin handed over this important albanian fortress to montenegro. the black mountaineers had only occupied the place a short time before our arrival. but all seemed to be going on peaceably; the inhabitants appeared quite reconciled to their new government. our khan had been recently the house of a wealthy mohammedan, and was quite an imposing building. an archway led through to a court-yard, surrounded by stables; above the stables run a wooden gallery, on to which opened the various apartments. it was exactly like some of the old-fashioned inns of the posting days, which one still comes across so frequently in normandy. we had a very pleasant chamber handed over to us for our use. a window filled one side of it. as this window was unglazed, this was rather a chilly residence at this time of the year, when the bora blew strong and fresh from the snow-capped mountains. in our honour, one half of the window was glazed. i suppose this exhausted all the glass in the town, for no effort was made to complete the work, though we were here for several days. a divan ran round the wall, on which we were to sleep. they cooked for us at this hotel, but there was little variety in the cuisine; one day stewed fowl and stewed mutton, the next stewed mutton and stewed fowl, and so on. we found there were some bottles of cyprus wine downstairs, at the bar. we very soon exhausted these, for cyprus wine seemed a great delicacy, after the rough albanian wines and rakis. after breakfast robinson and marco rode off to cettinje, fifteen hours from here, to fetch the tent and the rest of their baggage. while they were away we explored the town, and made the acquaintance of a very good fellow, gospodina milosh, the government armourer, who was now very occupied in putting into order the rifles which the mountaineers brought down to him, anticipating the invasion of albanian territory, the orders to march being daily expected. this gentleman had been sent to vienna to learn his trade, and spoke german well, so was a useful interpreter for us during our stay. there was a large building adjoining our hotel, which was occupied by the minister of war for montenegro. it was he who led the highlanders in those successful battles they fought with the turks on the herzegovinan frontier during the last war. his name i have forgotten. every morning we saw him and a dozen chiefs, and others, stalk up and down the river side in front of our window, for it was out of doors he transacted his business, received his despatches, gave his orders, and formed plans for the investment of gussinje. the next morning we went outside the town with our landlord (who by the way was a sergeant in the army, as the metal eagle in his cap betokened), for a little practice with our rifles. we easily beat the natives on this as on all other occasions, and gave them a very high idea of our skill as rifle shots. i hit the target (a pocket handkerchief) at a 200 yards' range, at the first shot, which so pleased the spectators that they gave me the name of the "dobra pushka." there is a little bazaar in podgoritza, through which we strolled. we purchased some of the native caps, for it is always advisable to wear these when in montenegro; the people like one to assume their national head-covering, and have a strong dislike for european hats. we tried to catch some fish in the river, but failed, so returned to our caravanserai for our usual mutton and fowl. a curious lad waited on us--he was very open-eyed and solemn, his dignity was not to be disturbed by any amount of chaff. we called him johnny, and spoke to him in any language that came handy, "asht hazer bouka, donno me hongr?" (is the food ready? we want to eat) was a sentence--half of which, by the way, is sclav and half albanian--which was frequently inflicted on him. "yest, yest, hazer" (yes, yes, it is ready) was the welcome answer he vouchsafed to us on our entry this evening. _yest_, which literally signifies "it is," is the affirmative in this language, and at first surprises an englishman by its resemblance to his native "yes." chapter xiii. war preparations--our camp visitors--an impromptu ball--english consul fashion--robbers--ruins of douka--a dangerous bath--bastinado--karatag yok mir. the following day we took a walk in the country, with our friend the armourer. the sheltered hollows literally swarmed with tortoises; one could count as many as sixty within the space of a few yards. a gap was pointed out in the distant hills behind the town, where was fought one of the most sanguinary battles of the last war--the battle of medun--in which prince nikita gained a signal victory. our friend told us some wonderful story about a rich turk who inhabited the present ministry of war some four years ago, before the war broke out. he was tyrant of podgoritza, and forbade any one to bear arms in the town. this restriction seems to have excited the wrath of the montenegrins, who were wont to come down to the albanian city on market-day. two of these daring highlanders came into the town one morning, concealing pistols on their persons. they met the aforesaid rich turk in the bazaar, called him a dog and a thief, and thereupon blew his brains out. the mohammeddans then rose, and put every montenegrin in the town to death--some twenty or thirty. this, he said, was one of the causes which led to prince nikita's taking part in the russo-turkish war. we had invited our new friend to sup with us. he seemed to appreciate fowl and mutton very well. he gave us much interesting information as to the prospects of war and other matters. he said that artillery was already posted on the heights above gussinje, and that the prince's troops would not be long in driving out the enemy. he told us he was not allowed to fight himself, his services as armourer being so exceedingly important. this was a source of great grief to him. in the last war he ran away from his work and joined the troops. the prince caught and rebuked him, sent him back to his forge, and told him to consider himself as a prisoner there. he once more sneaked down to the front during a great battle, his warlike ardour being too much for him. this time again the prince found him out, but could not refrain from laughing, and was obliged to pardon him. the next day robinson rode in with both horses. he had made rather a muddle of his errand, for having come down from cettinje as far as rieka, he then left marco, to bring the tent and baggage on by londra to a place called jabiak. it ultimately turned out that jabiak was just as far from here as rieka was. brown rode off with a guide to this place, and then found the unhappy marco sitting alone, disconsolate, tobacco-less, on the white elephant, mid the sedges by the shores of the lake, waiting till he should be called for. brown described him as being an indescribably piteous object, as he meditated alone in that dismal swamp. when, on the following day, brown, marco, the white elephant, and the two horses returned, we held a council; and though all unanimous in desiring to leave podgoritza as soon as possible, could not decide as to whither we had best go until this dilatory war, which had been promised us by robinson and jones as an inducement to postpone our albanian travels, should commence. as we discussed warmly the armourer came in, and said, "the minister of war wishes to see you as soon as you can give him an hour." "we can come now," we replied. so he ushered us into the reception-room of the war ministry, where sat the courteous and handsome old veteran, looking fully twenty years younger than he is. we sat on a divan, and were presented with coffee and cigarettes in the turkish style. the armourer acted as interpreter, translating the general's words into german, which language both jones and robinson understood well. he said "he was exceedingly glad to see english travelling in his wild native country, and trusted we liked the people. go all over it," he added; "you will be safe. pilfering and highway robbery are quite unknown among us." on being questioned as to the preparations for war, he said, "it was to tell you about this i desired to see you. you wish to see the campaign: you shall do so. you shall come with me as my guests. my servants shall be yours. on no account leave the country just yet. what will be done will be worth your seeing." on being told that we were rather pressed for time, he went on to say, "negotiations are pending at constantinople. in four days we shall know all. come to me then, and i can tell the very hour we march. that war will be, i am certain. the albanians are sure to resist. prince nikita too has sworn to take gussinje. it is his by treaty. we will take it, and no quarter will we give the dogs. why should we? they are rebels. turkey says she has given up the place to us, and that it is not her fault if the inhabitants resist. we will not spare one of them. if you wish to see something of the country before you see me again, go to douka, where the great ruins are--they are worth visiting--then you can return here." this proposal pleased us, so the commissariat was sent out to procure a large quantity of raki, mutton, flour, and other necessaries. robinson was anxious to try the white elephant as soon as possible, so it was determined to take one of our horses to bear our impedimenta, and march out to as near douka as we could manage this afternoon, and then camp for the night. douka is situated on the right bank of the river moracha, some miles above podgoritza. our landlord came with us, for as the sun was setting we did not expect to march for more than an hour, and he wished to see us comfortably settled for the night. marco we left behind. we marched on the left bank of the moracha, thus cutting off a long loop which the stream formed here, and by sunset had arrived at a spot just opposite to the ruins of douka, the broad and foaming river dividing us from it. we pitched our tent in the plain not far from the precipitous edge of the river. the white elephant certainly looked very imposing, and was very comfortable. we unpacked the horse, and arranged all our property in an orderly manner in our new home. then our landlord rode back to podgoritza. the sun was now setting over the western hills, so we lost no time in cutting down some of the brushwood, and making a large fire some ten yards from the entrance of the tent; the pot was then put on, and a tasty stew prepared of mutton, grease-meal, onions, pepper, and salt. i do not know whether, in montenegro, to pitch a tent and light a fire signifies a general invitation to the country-side to come and make merry and carouse, but that was the result on this occasion. as night set in, first one and then another armed highlander would drop in, walk into our tent in the calmest manner, quite _sans gêne_, shake us by the hand, with a "_dobro eutro gospodina_," then sit down, roll himself a cigarette, and commence smoking. at first we thought these people rather cool, but they were so polite that it was evident they did not imagine their conduct to be in any way extraordinary. at last a large crowd had assembled round our tent--a very curious people. where they came from we could not imagine. houses there were none in sight. they seemed to have no homes, no occupation. it was a matter of utter indifference to them where they were at any time, or where they slept. we were at this encampment for two days: all the time they remained outside the tent in a most contented matter. they were just as well there as anywhere else. after dinner we provided coffee and raki for our visitors. then an impromptu entertainment followed. robinson and myself gave a conjuring entertainment for the amusement of the wild people. we sat at the remote end of the tent. about seventeen of the audience sat inside in a double row: these were the swells in the stalls. the gods outside filled up the open door and looked over each other's shoulders, in a compact and surging mass. the conjuring was much appreciated by our audience. when we had exhausted our repertoire of tricks, all cleared out of the tent, which had become very stuffy. it was a magnificent night. the moon was rising over the distant mountains, and there was not a breath of air to stir the rising smoke. we piled up the fire and made up a glorious blaze, which threw a bright light on our fantastic visitors. they were all now very merry and boisterous. they wrestled, sang, and ran, like a lot of children. why not get up a ball? proposed some one. it was a happy idea; every one fell into it with delight. with loud shouts and wild gestures they whirled round the fire hand-in-hand, treading energetically, almost fiercely, a measure of their own. there were two charming young ladies in the crowd, who were the decided belles of the ball--neda and zekitza. zekitza made a great impression on robinson's sensitive heart. she was a powerful young lady, for once she disagreed with one of her partners about something, and caught him a resounding slap, which felled him to the ground. she also wrestled with another youth, and easily laid him low. it was a curious scene; not the least curious object was the gallant jones handing round refreshments--raw raki in a saucepan, which girls and all partook of freely. "verily," the montenegrins must have thought, "these are consuls inglesi, and they do things in right good english consul fashion." it was rather difficult to get rid of our guests when we wished to turn in for the night. that any one should like privacy at times is incomprehensible to montenegrin or albanian highlanders. they walk into each other's huts, uninvited, at every hour of the night, to chat and drink coffee. they seem to need a very small amount of sleep. i found, in the cabins and khans we visited, it was the rule to turn in about twelve and be up again at two, jabbering and coffee drinking; for it is not that they have any work to do that these people are so early in rising. after all, when you have no dressing or washing to get through, getting up early becomes easier than when the complicated toilets and tubbings of the anglo-saxon are before you. when we arose the next morning the cook was horrified to find that a saddle-bag, containing our mutton and tobacco, had disappeared in the night. a burglarious entrance must have been made into our tent while we slept. we remembered having seen two suspicious-looking young fellows prowling about the camp during the ball, who were evidently strangers to the rest of the montenegrins present, and who seemed to be shunned by them as disreputable vagabonds. these doubtlessly were the thieves. one of our visitors, seeing us searching for something, understood the state of affairs, and told us by signs he would soon recover our property. this we thought rather improbable; but he knew what he was promising, as events showed. the peasantry kindly brought some provisions to our camp this morning. tubs of veronica, a sort of sour milk, goat's-milk cheeses, and wheaten cakes. as our tobacco had all been stolen, i mounted rosso and galloped into podgoritza, to procure some more. on my return to the camp we started for the ruins of douka, all our new friends following us. further up the stream an ancient man had a boat, in which he ferried us over, three or four at a time. the boat was very rickety, and over-grown with moss; the boatman of great age, ragged, and of exceeding ugliness. he and his craft irresistibly called up charon and his stygian ferry to our minds. douka was evidently a roman city. the peasantry gave us several coins they had found among the ruins; these were of the time of diocletian, and bore his effigy. there was not much to see--a few ruined walls, and some slabs bearing illegible inscriptions, were all we could find. the ruins were thickly overgrown with brushwood. however, i should say this place would repay the labours of an excavator, for it must have been a place of considerable importance once. we amused ourselves with some rifle practice, and then returned to camp. this evening brown did a very imprudent thing--he washed himself. he went down to the river, stripped, and jumped into a deep pool. we warned him, told him he might be misunderstood by the people; but he was obdurate. some montenegrins on the other bank saw him. "what is it?" they said, for at first they could not believe it was a man. who ever saw a man with his clothes off--in water, too? they were about to fire at the mysterious object, when somehow they recognized it as a human being. they were evidently much puzzled to know what on earth he could be doing there. was this a curious religious rite of the inglezi church? was it a mystic ceremony connected with witchcraft? we were bound to make some explanation for brown, for we found the people fought very shy of him when he came out of the bath, and looked upon him with evident suspicion and dislike, so we put our fingers to our foreheads, shook our heads sadly, and intimated to them that our poor friend was not quite right in his mind. the next morning we were awoke early by the sound of voices outside our tent. on looking out we found an officer of some rank, and several armed men, bringing two prisoners to us. these were the very two men we had suspected of stealing our mutton. our saddle-bag and its contents were restored to us by the captors. they had tracked the fellows up into the mountains during the night, with the assistance of a bloodhound. the officer stayed to converse with us awhile in very limited italian. as for the prisoners, he merely turned to them, pointed towards podgoritza, and said "go." they obediently skulked off in the given direction, and awaited him in the bazaar. we found afterwards that the poor fellows were sentenced to be bastinadoed, thirty cuts on the sole of the foot each, and were then imprisoned for some days in a sort of open prison or cage. we had exhausted the charms of douka, so packed our baggage, and marched back to podgoritza. robinson superintended the lowering of the tent. this was the sole occasion during the whole tour on which the white elephant was brought into use. it was afterwards mildly suggested to its inventor that it might be a question whether all the tribulation and expense attending its carriage was made up for by these two nights' encampment on the plains of the moracha. he was silent on the subject. on arriving at podgoritza we at once called on the minister of war, to learn the latest news of the war. he had heard of our little adventure with the mutton pilferers. he was much amused at our account of it. "ah!" he said, "and i had only just told you that robbers were unknown in montenegro." as to the war, he had no news to tell us. orders to advance might come to-day, might not come for a month. he knew no more than we did. we left him, and retired to our chamber at the khan. after dinner we were smoking silently and sulkily, when brown, addressing jones and robinson, sternly said, "this war of yours is a fraud, you have brought us out here under false pretences." i joined in to assist my ally, and laid stress on the delights of brown's and my own projected march to janina, which we had put off to hunt this phantom war all over this uninteresting country. after a warm discussion it was decided to march back to scutari on the morrow. i communicated our design to marco. the worthy fellow's face broke into broad smiles, as he whispered hoarsely, "good, monsor, good; _karatag yok mir_. montenegro no bonne, no bonne." he evidently did not feel comfortable among his hereditary enemies. chapter xiv. an escort--a turkish dinner-party--brigands--our sportsman--a chief of the league--objects of the rebels--achmet agha--a meeting of the league--the boulem-bashi of klementi--an arnaut chieftain. the next day (saturday, november 1st), after our black coffee, and the usual bustle attending the packing of our animals, we shouldered our rifles, and made a start. our landlord insisted on our pouring down numerous glasses of raki in his house, and, according to the general custom over here, accompanied us to about half a mile or more from the town, when a halt was called. then he produced a glass, and a large bottle of mastic, which had to be finished by us ere bidding a final adieu. we all highly approved of this good old custom. it began to rain soon after we commenced our march, and the plain assumed very quickly that lake-like appearance which we had observed the last time we crossed it. on arriving at the khan where we had slept on our march to podgoritza, we found in front of it a large encampment of turkish soldiers. we entered the house to get some coffee, and were then pounced upon by some of the officers, who wished to see our passports, and learn who we were, and whither we were bound. they insisted on sending an escort of four men with us as far as helm, for, as they told us, we were breaking through all the regulations laid down by the government for the security of travellers in journeying thus without zaptiehs. that travellers should be thus escorted we knew to be the rule throughout turkey, but we evaded it whenever we could. in albania such an escort is worse than useless. in the first place, the zaptiehs will not venture to go with you into the mountains, where the arnauts would probably attack them for the sake of their arms; and on the other hand, their company is sure to make you very unpopular in every village you go through, for these defenders of the peace consider they have a legal right to requisition provisions, and all they want, without paying for them. on reaching helm we found that the provision boat had left, thus we were obliged to pass the night here. robinson proposed that we should pitch our tent. while we were discussing the point a turkish officer came up, and spoke to us in french. he pointed out a dismal stone house by the lake side, and told us that the commandant of the troops stationed here resided in it, and would be very glad if we would accept his hospitality for the night. we were all delighted, with the exception of robinson, who sighed deeply--his beloved tent was not to be pitched after all. we were shown into a rough, unfurnished room, and dinner was soon announced. we dined with the commandant and the french-speaking officer, marco and a negro soldier waiting on us. it was a regular turkish dinner--no chairs, no knives and forks. we had to squat down in eastern fashion, and eat the savoury pilaf with our fingers. after dinner we entered into a lengthy conversation with the commandant, the other officer acting as interpreter. he hated albania, and the albanians. "why," he said, "these dogs of arnauts should be smoked out of their fastnesses. my soldiers dare not leave the camp; if a few of them stray a mile or two away, 'ping, ping,' a dozen bullets hiss about their ears. the beasts murder them for their rifles. we might as well be in an enemy's country at once. i advise you to be cautious in travelling among these mountains. it is really very unsafe." the conversation turned on politics. the old soldier seemed very excited. "ay!" he said, "all our friends have forsaken us; you english even are no longer allies of the turk. and this being so, why should we do anything for you? why assist you? why listen any more to your counsels? i will tell you, by allah! there is but one stick left that turkey may lean on. her only hope is in an alliance with the strong, with russia; that is what it will come to, you will see." "i am afraid you will find that russia devours her allies." the commandant laughed. "there is something in that," he said. "the truth is, that poor turkey has no friends, and no hope. we shall have to leave your europe, i fear; but i do not think you will find that turkey, overrun by sclavs, will be so much better than it is now." the next morning our host ordered a special londra for us, and ordered his men to row us down to a point on the lake, whence we could march to scutari before nightfall. our crew of ragged soldiers, grim, half-starved, some of negro, some of arab blood, brought us, in about two hours, to a sheltered little bay on the east shore of the lake. our course had lain across a regular forest of half-submerged trees, which grew in fantastic shapes, and whose lower ends were thickly surrounded with sedge and water-plants. the effect was curious, not unlike those tropical swamps where vegetable life is so profuse and varied. on landing we repacked rosso and effendi, and were just on the point of bidding adieu to our crew, and commencing our march, when an incident worthy of mention occurred. with the exception of snipe, and such like small deer, we had come across little game in albania. the _feræ naturæ_ have little chance in this barren country, where war is frequent, peopled as it is too by men who never leave their thresholds without carrying their loaded guns with them. but now, however, the keen eye of jones suddenly lighted upon a large and unknown bird, perched on a stump not fifteen yards from the shore. it was a curious and melancholy-looking creature, something like a mangy pelican with a moulting tail. now jones, my readers will remember, had purchased an arnaut gun at scutari, an orthodox flint-locked _pushka_, with barrel as long as himself. this weapon had been strongly recommended by the vendor for sporting purposes. on inspecting it, jones noticed the barrel was most decidedly bent. he pointed this out to the merchant. "bent! ah, that is nothing," said he; "easily remedied." so saying he inserted the barrel between two of the beams of his roof, bent it straight, squinted down it, and handed it back. "there you are! excellent pushka!" with this weapon jones proceeded to slay the mysterious bird on the stump. marco and the soldiers, on observing his intentions, became very alarmed. "do not shoot here," said our follower. "the noise will bring down the arnauts upon us; they will kill us." but the sporting instinct of the englishman was up. slowly and warily, with the lengthy pushka held out at full-cock, with finger on the trigger, jones crept nearer and nearer to the lake's edge. his reputation as a mighty nimrod in the stubble of his native land was at stake. all our reputations were at stake as inglesi, and therefore of a race of sportsmen. silently, yet excitedly, the soldiers watched. the eyes of marco gleamed as he looked round. he was proud of us. "now, you look out; you watch," he whispered to the men. he nodded his head with a knowing nod, that unmistakably said, "you will see." and "i told you so!" was ready to jump from his lips as soon as the report of the gun awoke the echoes of the wilderness. our nimrod crouched down; there was a pause; a great suspense. then his finger pulled the trigger; the lock snapped! there was a fizzing sound, as of those "devils" the school-boy makes of damp powder. with the fizzing there rose a pale blue smoke from the pan. the bird heard the sound, looked round at the stranger and his fizzing instrument curiously for a time, then, having satisfied his curiosity, he deliberately shook himself, spread his rickety wings, and flew slowly and majestically over the lake. it was nearly out of sight when there was a report. the pushka went off with an imposing bang that awoke the echoes of the mountains. a roar of homeric laughter burst from the assembly. in the rainy season of albania it becomes very difficult to preserve the powder in the pan of one's gun in a properly dry condition. after a few days it becomes a slow fuse. but jones soon mastered the ways of his mighty pushka, and was fairly successful in his future sporting expeditions; for having carefully timed the fuse, his method was to take aim and fire at least ten minutes ere the game was even in sight. it was pitch dark when we reached scutari, and walked through the abominably roughly-paved streets to the hotel toshli, where the brothers received us with open arms. the next morning we held a council, to decide whither we should wander next. we came to no immediate conclusion, as there was great diversity of opinion. as robinson was expecting a remittance from london, we should most probably have to remain a few days at scutari. having nothing better to do, we persuaded our friend the gendarme to introduce us to a chief of the albanian league, who was a friend of his. the interview had to be arranged with caution, for, as our friend said, "they know here you have been to montenegro, and may suspect your motives in wishing to question a member of the league." it was settled that we should go to the gendarme's house in the afternoon; there the chief in question would meet us. in the afternoon jones and myself were shown by the gendarme's miridite servant into a room, where, squatting on mats, coffee-drinking, were our friend and a shrewd-looking old albanian mussulman, with deeply-lined face, and anxious and restless eye. after the customary salutations i entered into conversation with him, the gendarme, as usual, acting as interpreter. i told him the english wished to know what were the objects of the league. "our object," he said, "is to defend our countries against the enemies that surround us. the dogs of montenegrin, the servian and greek swine, all wish to steal a portion of albania; but, praise be to allah, we are strong. the albanians are brave; and guns and ammunition are not wanting." he tried to sound me as to the views of england, for he thought this frontier dispute was absorbing all the attention of our countrymen. he said, "england is our friend. they all say here she has supplied the league with weapons and money." that some power--most probably turkey--has assisted the league in this way, is certain. but it is curious that all the albanians i met were positive as to england being the friend in question. the government of turkey does not find favour in the eyes of the albanians. "the turks!" cried out the chief, angrily, "what do they do for us? tax us, rob us--that is all. these effeminate pashas, these farmers of customs, do nothing for us in return for what they steal. can they defend us? protect us? no! they have sold us to the cursed giaours of the karatag. i tell you we will have the turk no more. the chiefs of the league have sworn it. independence has been given to montenegro--to bulgaria. albania shall have her independence, and the great powers shall recognize us. if not, we care not. leave us alone; that is enough for us." he had now worked himself up into a furious rage, and was almost choking with it; so he stopped, drank some sherbet, then turning suddenly to me, said, "what do you english think of midhat pasha?" "he is much liked by us," i replied. "he is looked upon as one of the few honest and worthy turkish officials." he seemed very pleased at hearing this, and said, "what we wish is to create an independent albanian principality, with this midhat pasha as our prince--a principality under the protectorate of england. you will see we shall have it." i asked him whether this league was a purely patriotic movement, or whether it was a religious one, confined to mohammedans only. "we are fighting for our independence," he replied. "there are as many christians in the league as mussulmen. you know the christians here are of the latin church, and hate the greek christians as much as we mohammedans do." he told me that one party of the league were not averse to the occupation of albania by some big power; not russia, he said, nor italy, nor austria; but england or france. for his part he did not wish this. with regard to the defence of gussinje, he said, "we have 35,000 men there, who will fight to the death. the montenegrins cannot take gussinje. why, they never yet have fought us in the plain. the beasts can fight well enough behind their own rocks, but they are cowards to attack. when the skipitars raise their shout, and charge with the yataghan, the karatags tremble; they turn, they fly. then we pursue them, seize them by their long hair, and with a sweep of our blades cut off the beasts' heads. ah! it is sweet to see." and turning sharply to me, "why do not you go to gussinje and see the fighting? parties leave scodra every night for the front. i will give you a letter to ali bey. he will welcome you as a brother." the proposal was pleasing; jones and myself at once agreed to accompany the next party to gussinje. we knew that the expedition was rather a risky one. the garrison of gussinje had been worked up to a high pitch of fanatical madness, and might treat us with little ceremony did they hear of our journey into the enemy's country. under these circumstances we thought it better that two of our party alone should go to gussinje, while the other two could make a sporting expedition into the mountains beyond the plains of scutari. the next morning accordingly, brown and robinson, taking marco with them, shouldered their rifles, strapped their blankets on their shoulders, and marched off towards the miridite mountains--a lofty and wild range, inhabited by the tribe of the same name, the most savage and desperate of all the christian highland class, a race that has waged a perpetual war with the turk for centuries. the miridites are exceedingly poor, in a condition of half starvation, for bodies of turkish troops ever and anon make incursions into the debouchures of their valleys, driving off their flocks, burning their villages, and compelling them to fly for safety into the cold and utterly barren highlands. the gendarme brought to our room at toshli's, the morning of our friends' departure, another member of the league, a chief of influence. he slipped off his shoes at our door, and shuffled in, a short-legged, stout, dropsical old fellow, with not over-clean festinelle, and a four days' beard: he had the fierce eye which is the characteristic of the northern albanians. the shaven head too of the mussulman lent a peculiar ferocity to his expression. i never cast eyes upon a more blood-thirsty-looking old scoundrel. "will your friend take some coffee or sherbet?" i asked the gendarme. "he likes raki best," was the reply, "when no one is looking on. he is not a very strict mohammedan in this respect." i found few albanians indeed had very delicate consciences when raki was in question. this gentleman, who was introduced to us as achmet agha kouchi, kept a coffee-house in the mohammedan quarter of the town. he purposed going to gussinje in a few days, and would be pleased if we would accompany him. we were to visit him at his café in the afternoon, to arrange matters. after lunch we traversed the dismal streets of the turkish quarter till we reached the little café of our new friend. it was full of leaguesmen, who had evidently come to inspect us. i wish i had taken a sketch of that interior. no slum of an eastern city could show a group of more cut-throat-looking, fierce ruffians than those scutarine conspirators. they did not rise when we entered, but stared at us with savage, lowering looks, that betokened suspicion and hatred of the giaour. achmet agha told us that a party would start the night after next for gussinje; and that to-night there would be a meeting of the scutarine leaguesmen, in the mosque near the river, to decide whether we should be permitted to visit the besieged town. in the morning he would let us know what had been decided. in toshli's this evening, i read an account in a trieste paper of a battle which had been fought near gussinje, in which the albanians had been victorious. rumours of all kinds had for days been flying about the bazaar; but though gussinje is but a three days' march from here, nothing certain was known. indeed the scutarines were entirely without information on the progress of matters. some excitement was caused by the departure of mr. green to-day for cettinje. he had of course gone thither to take a part in the negotiations now pending, the turks having sent a representative to the montenegrin capital, to try his utmost to arrive at an amicable solution of the difficulty. the scutarines, however, were quite certain that signor green had gone off to threaten prince nikita with an immediate declaration of war on the part of england, did he not without delay withdraw his troops from the frontier. the league met as usual at midnight, in the mosque, and till daybreak discussed jones and myself. the meeting was described to us. said some: "let them not go; who knows that some of the men of gussinje will not murder them as giaours? then what difficulty we shall be in. we will have to avenge them, for they are our guests; there will be strife between the defenders of our country, and the dogs of karatag will rejoice. again, their blood will be upon our heads. zutni green will be wrath. the english will be our friends no longer." however, the dissentients were in the minority. the league of scutari gave its permission to our departure. we were advised to wear the fez instead of our english hats, as this would reduce the risk of our irritating the intensely excited inhabitants of gussinje: accordingly we purchased two of the orthodox head-coverings. achmet agha again called on us; he seemed rather uncomfortable. we could see he had heard something about us, and did not like to carry out his promise. said he: "who are you? why do you wish to go to gussinje?" we replied: "in england we will write a book. the english wish to know what the albanian league means, whether it is good. it is for that we wish to go to gussinje, that we may see, and be able to tell our countrymen the truth." "ah," he said, "so your 'krail,' your chiefs, have sent you for this. _mir_, _mir_--it is good." then he paused, and said abruptly, "we shall not go to-morrow." "why not?" "because we know not how the other leaguesmen will receive you. we must first send to inquire of our general, ali bey, if he will have you." this did not sound very pleasant to us. ultimately he agreed to take us on the morrow to a hut two hours distant from gussinje; there he would leave us while he rode into the town, to acquaint the chieftains with our wishes, and obtain permission for us to visit ali bey. the next morning we rose at daybreak, and found a strong "bora" was blowing, and the snow lay thick on the distant mountains. we prepared for the start. luggage we took none, except one blanket; but as it promised to be exceedingly cold in the mountains, we each put on two flannel shirts and two pairs of socks. achmet agha called two hours after his time; he seemed confused and troubled. our host, toshli, came forward as interpreter, for i managed to make out a good deal he said. with him i conversed in a strange mixture of italian and greek, one of the _six_ compound tongues i had to invent in albania in order to get on with the different people i met. said achmet agha, "i cannot go with you. i have been told by the authorities that if anything happens to you i shall be held responsible; my house and property will all be confiscated. besides, i have to tell you that you are forbidden on any account to go to gussinje; the pasha will not have it." this all seemed very strange. that the turkish pasha and police authorities should have acted thus seemed improbable. we afterwards found they did not even know anything about our intended journey. we did, however, hear something later on, which led us to very strongly suspect that the attempt to stop us originated in a certain foreign consulate at scutari. naturally suspicious and jealous of english influence in turkey, the representatives of this power concluded that our government had sent us here on some secret errand; and so, not being able to discover the object of our mission, attempted to frustrate it altogether in an underhand manner. jones and myself had now thoroughly made up our minds that we would go to gussinje, in spite of an over-officious consul, so we proceeded to hunt about scutari for a guide and dragoman. no one could we find. those we spoke to smiled grimly, drew their hands significantly across their throats, and emphatically objected to go anywhere near the hot little town. one person, however, did volunteer to accompany us. this was the english consul's cook. he was a plucky little albanian, very vivacious and clever. he spoke two words of nearly every language in europe, and in default of better, would make a very fair dragoman for us. he had adopted european costume, and wore jauntily on his head an english army forage cap, the gift of the british sergeant who accompanied the frontier commissioners last may. this cook was a man of some rank. in albania, a calling such as was his is not derogatory to a gentleman. we had made his acquaintance at toshli's, where he was famed for his skill as a billiard-player. he went to mrs. green, told her of our intended journey, and implored her to give him leave of absence, in order that he might guide and protect the inglezi travellers. alas! it could not be; his presence was indispensable in the consulate kitchen. cooks are not to be picked up every day in scutari, at any rate such cooks as this, for we had several opportunities of perceiving how skilled he was in his profession, under mr. green's hospitable roof. no one to be found to come with us! this looked bad; we almost despaired of effecting our purpose, for to find our way alone across the roadless mountains would have been impossible. to have travelled among the savage arnauts, without knowing ten words of their language--madness. as we discontentedly discussed the question in our bedroom, the head cavasse of the english consulate was announced. he brought with him a tall, handsome, and very pleasant-looking albanian mussulman, evidently a man of high rank, superbly dressed and armed. "this," said the cavasse, "is the boulim-bashi of klementi. he will accompany you to klementi, which is a day's march from gussinje. there he will hand you over to the chieftain of the klementi, nik leka, who is a friend of signor green. he will say to nik leka, these are friends of signor green; treat them as his brothers, and if the danger be not too great take them to ali bey." my readers can imagine our delight. we could not travel under better auspices. the condition of a boulim-bashi is curious. the turks, as i have before said, have never really conquered or assimilated albania; the christian highlanders are allowed considerable independence. now, each arnaut tribe is obliged to elect from the mussulmen of scutari a representative, a sort of consul, who mediates between it and the turkish government, who acts as their advocate in case of any dispute. as he is chosen by the tribe from among the townsmen of rank, and as he can be dismissed any day if the highlanders in any way object to him, the boulim-bashi is always a popular man, liked by the tribe he represents, and a very safe person in whose company to travel among the highlands, for he is sure to be known to, and treated as a friend, by every man met on the way. it was a great honour to be thus escorted, and we afterwards discovered, the cause that led to the kind proposal. the men of klementi are deeply indebted to our consul, who took their part in a certain quarrel between them and the turkish government, in which justice was entirely on their side. grateful for this, the klementis are ever glad to do any service for zutni green. thus it was that we as friends of the consul received this invitation. the klementi is the most powerful tribe of this district. there are 6000 fighting men, all armed with martini-henry rifles, stolen from the turks. their chieftain, nik leka, to whom the boulim-bashi was to escort us, is the hero of the scutarine christians. the timid townspeople of the latin faith, unarmed as they are by law, live in fear of the mohammedan population, who have more than once fallen on and massacred them. it is to the armed arnauts of the hills, their fellow-christians, that they look for protection, for these are better warriors than the mussulmen themselves, never have been a subject race, but stalk, bristling with arms, through the bazaars of the cities on market-days, as erect and haughty as the most blue-blooded young mohammedan emir of them all. this nik leka had a little adventure recently in the bazaar of scutari. he was discussing some matter with a young mussulman of rank, who had three retainers with him. a quarrel ensued. the other called the arnaut chief a dog of a christian. nik leka is a man of few words. he whipped out his yataghan with his right hand, seized his enemy by the little tail of hair which the faithful leave on their closely-shaven heads to give mahomet something to lay hold on when he pulls them into paradise, and the next moment there was a flash of bright steel, and the arnaut held up a bleeding head, while the body fell into the foul gutter below. the man's retainers fell upon nik leka, but the wiry highlander was too much for the effeminate townsmen. he slew two of them, the third escaped; then he picked up the three heads with a grim smile, tucked them under his arms, and marched off to his mountains, where he exhibited the ghastly trophies to the tribesmen. chapter xv. to gussinje--the valley of the drin--a rough road--in the mountains-hospitality--a pretty woman--a scientific frontier--franciscans--dog latin--marco milano. it was settled that we should start early on the following morning. then the boulim-bashi bowed low, shook hands, and left us. we had learnt something of the nature of the place we were about to visit from mr. green and others. about three days' march from scutari, across the great klementi mountains, there is a long and beautiful valley, which penetrates deeply into the central range of the mount scardus. down this valley flows the white drin, a stream of considerable importance, that flows into the adriatic, near alessio. in this valley are ipek, jakova, and priserin, three of the most interesting cities of albania, inhabited by a population very skilled in the working of metals. the most beautiful saddlery, filigree work, gold-hilted and jewelled yataghans and pistols, are here worked by an industrious people. but the population of these towns is ferociously fanatical. surrounded as they are by christians, knowing that the day is not far off when the rising ambitions and energies of the oppressed race will drive them from their homes eastwards and southwards, the mohammedans here hate the christians with a hatred more intense than even the followers of this fanatical creed entertain in other parts. at the very head of this valley of the drin, where the river springs out from the grey rock, is a ridge of forest-clad mountain, the ancient pindus, which forms the watershed of the tributaries of the westward-flowing drin, and bojana, and the lim, a river that flows northwards, joining the drina and the save, across bosnia and servia, till it ultimately pours its waters into the mighty danube at belgrade. at the head of the valley of the lim, situated in the centre of a green and fertile _cirque_, surrounded by stupendous mountains, is the little town or village of gussinje, a congregation of sordid wooden huts. it is a place of great strategic importance, for just behind it, on the ridge of the forest-clad mountains, montenegro, bosnia, and albania join. by the provisions of the treaty of berlin, gussinje and its neighbourhood was handed over to the black mountaineers--wherefore it is difficult to see. as conquerors in the war, it seems just enough that the montenegrins should have acquired antivari by that treaty, a place of no strategic importance, yet which gave them what they so long and eagerly thirsted for, a seaport. but it was decidedly a mistake to extend prince nikita's territory beyond the mountain ridge, a natural frontier, down into the valley of the lim, giving a command of it--a standing menace to turkey and bosnia, a bone of many future contentions. it must be remembered, too, that the inhabitants of the district to be given up are not sclav in race or language--not of the greek church--but mussulmen or roman catholics. the montenegrins have been made too much of lately. they now imagine that they are a great people, and have a holy mission of aggrandisement at the expense of turkey. gussinje is a curious sort of a place, and has never enjoyed a very sweet reputation. as in all parts of northern albania, the people do pretty much what they like, and do not feel the turkish yoke very heavily. situated as it is on the frontier, it has become a city of refuge. montenegrin renegades whose country has become too hot for them, bosnian mohammedan refugees, and vagabonds of all sorts, have flocked hither. it is in this town of gussinje that the chiefs of the albanian league have concentrated their forces, determined to fight to the bitter end, in spite of the austrian troops in bosnia to the north of them, turkish troops in their rear, montenegrins before their walls, and the doubtful neutrality of the christian arnauts, who are all round them in the mountains, lying in wait to murder and strip small parties of either side--for this is the idea of neutrality among these people, an armed neutrality with a vengeance. thirty-five thousand albanians, we were told, occupy gussinje, at the head of whom is ali bey. ali pasha, as he has styled himself, is a gussinian of rank, owner of lands and houses in the town and neighbourhood, a man of great intelligence, and a devout mussulman. he was one of the principal people implicated in the assassination of mehemet ali at jakova. this general, as my readers will remember, was sent by the porte on the dangerous mission of negotiating the transfer of turkish territory to her enemies. he was strongly advised not to venture into that hotbed of fanaticism and fierce patriotism, jakova. the league held possession of the town; the population was worked up to the highest pitch of excitement; every one knew the history of the envoy. as a foreigner, a pasha's favourite boy, a renegade, he was certain to be disliked and suspected by rigid mussulmen, and was the very last man that should have been sent on so delicate an errand. it is rumoured that the jealousy of his enemies at constantinople sent him on this surely fatal journey. his death was decided on by the league. the projected murder was talked about freely in the bazaars of albania fully two weeks before it was perpetrated. contrary to advice, he entered jakova. he had not long been there before the house in which he and his companions were shut up, was besieged by a furious mob. one man, a franciscan father, whom i met at scutari, was with him, and managed to escape, disguised as an arnaut. mehemet, seeing that resistance was hopeless, died like a brave man. he opened a door, rushed out, unarmed, with hands stretched out, into the thick of his enemies, crying, "kill me, but spare the others." he was beheaded, and his head was stuck on a pole, and held up to the jeerings and desecrations of the populace. we were up at daybreak the next day. it was a sunny, exhilarating morning, that seemed to send fresh blood coursing through our veins as we mounted rosso and effendi, and rode through the mohammedan quarter to the house of the boulim-bashi. our luggage was simple enough. i had one blanket and my waterproof, strapped behind me on effendi's saddle; while jones carried, in the same way, a saddle-bag of provisions and his waterproof. the house of the boulim-bashi was enclosed within lofty walls, as are all the residences of the mussulmen. we were ushered into a large room, where the brother of the boulim-bashi received us smiling, and motioned to us to be seated on the luxurious cushions which were strewed on the thickly-carpeted floor. he was a tall and very handsome man, like most of his countrymen, possessing small, delicately cut features, and tiny hands and feet. he looked like an aristocrat, and his costume was exceedingly rich. the boulim-bashi came in with coffee and sherbets. he had thrown off the dress of the town, with its ample festinelle and rich linen, and had donned the simpler dress of the arnaut chieftain, which showed off his fine person to great advantage. his cartridge-boxes betokened the man of rank, being of gold, beautifully worked, as were the handles of the pistols in his variegated silken sash. the coffee was prepared over a silver brazier on the floor, and the cups were handed to us on trays, covered with napkins cleverly embroidered in coloured silk and golden thread. we found that we were expected to take these napkins away with us. we did not know the custom, but our host soon set us right. there is something particularly pleasing and refined in the manners of the high-caste albanians. their politeness is charming; they anticipate your every want; and their movements have a cat-like softness, noiselessness, and suppleness about them, which is very striking. the boulim-bashi seized his martini-henry, leapt on his horse, an active-looking little grey, with undocked mane and tail. we were soon out of the town, and then broke into a canter, which we kept up across the plain of scutari till we reached our old friend the khan, at koplik. we felt very jolly this morning. we had made a start. there was a spice of adventure and risk in this expedition, that lent it zest, and excited us. how we were to get on at gussinje we did not know: our guide spoke no language but his own. it was improbable that we should find any one in the mountains who could understand us. and again, how would ali bey and his men treat us. we had no valid excuse for visiting him. would they know that we had interviewed the prince and war minister of montenegro? if so, our reception might prove almost too warm. we trusted to luck, and determined to see all we could. at koplik we left the track by the lake, and turned to the right, towards the desolate and lofty mountain range. these were the very mountains that the turks at helm seemed so afraid of, as being inhabited by the fiercest and bravest of the arnaut tribes, addicted to plundering turk and montenegrin indiscriminately. with our friend, the representative of the tribe, we were, however, quite safe, certain of being received with every hospitality; and as friends of zutni green, every man of the tribe would be friendly to us. for the arnaut is very grateful, is never treacherous--and once a friend is always a friend, and an excellent friend too. we gradually reached the foot of the mountains, and then our route lay through the heart of them, for to reach klementi we had to cross this stupendous chain. for seven hours we were nearly constantly ascending. there was no pretence at a road. we had often to dismount to haul our horses up a higher block of rock than usual, and had to use the greatest care, as we rode along some track not two feet wide with a wall of rock on one side and a precipice a thousand feet in depth on the other. the shades of night were falling--it would be impossible to travel after dark on such a route. but the boulim-bashi had timed himself well. it was just dusk when we heard that welcome sound to the traveller--the baying of dogs. our guide signed to us to dismount. we led our horses down an incline, when suddenly a door opened, and a blaze of light fell on us and dazzled our eyes. a gigantic arnaut, gun in hand, came out suspiciously. he at once recognized our companion, and kissed him affectionately. on hearing that we were english, friends of zutni green, he shook us kindly by the hand, and bid us enter. "bramiamir. mir s'erd" (a good night to you. be welcome) were the salutations we exchanged on entering the house. then, according to albanian custom, we unstrapped our arms, and handed them to our host (a sign of confidence in a friend), who proceeded to suspend them with his own on the wall. we were seated on mats by the blazing fire, and the women pulled off our boots. it was a curious scene, highly interesting, and taking one very far indeed from europe and civilization. a large room, the walls of rough stone, admitting the wind freely; the roof of huge, rough-hewn rafters of larch--wall and roof blackened with smoke; the floor of clay; in the centre a fire of great logs, the smoke allowed to find an exit as it could, the result being very unpleasant to unaccustomed eyes; no lamps or rushlights, but a pale and flickering light given out from a sort of iron cup, supported on a rod, into which little chips of resinous wood are occasionally thrown; the walls decorated with arms, the only ornaments in the place. a few cups, a bowl, an iron pan, and one or two other utensils, complete the _ménage_. this is the house of a great man, a chieftain; and we were told the name of the place is castrati. a large family occupied the hut, for it was no more. there were several women and young men. by the fireside there sat a very old crone, who paid no attention to what was going on, but rocked her palsied body to and fro, and mumbled constantly to herself. a little child--maybe a great-great-grandchild--whose sturdy limbs were a strong contrast to the withered legs and arms of the old woman, sat by her side. the grandame attempted now and then to stroke the little thing's head, the only sign she showed of being conscious of the world around her. all the occupants of the hut were remarkably handsome. leslie, who so well delineates pretty childhood, should visit albania. i verily believe no children in the world are so beautiful as these little arnauts. their costume is not graceful. a woollen sack is thrown over them, and their arms and legs are thickly swathed with the same material. they are quaint little things, and the smallest has the proud, fearless, free carriage of his fine race. there was one little fellow who stood in front of us here, erect, with head well up, and hands behind his back. he stared at us for a long time with big, wondering eyes, and a wonderful smile at the corners of the mouth, and then came boldly up to investigate the material of our clothing, which was evidently new to the little mountaineer. dinner was soon prepared. the boulim-bashi had brought some sweet cakes with him, and some mutton, which he cut into small lumps, and stuck on a skewer. they looked for all the world like catsmeat; but, when peppered, salted, and grilled in the glowing fire, they turned out those sweet and succulent morsels so appreciated by every old campaigner, known under the name of "kybobs." according to eastern custom the wife of the master of the house poured water over our hands from an iron jar, and then we commenced to devour our dinner with our fingers, washing it down with excellent raki. this lady of the house, by-the-bye, created a great impression on both our hearts. she was indeed exceedingly comely. her figure had not been spoiled by labour, as are those of most of the countrywomen, nor by the want of exercise and cramped sitting position in which the legs soon lose their shape, as is the case with most of the townswomen. her legs were bare, not swathed in the ugly manner in usage when out of doors, and very shapely legs and ankles she possessed. her face was oval, of a rich carnation in tint. her mouth small, and very beautiful; but her eyes were her chief feature--long, almond-shaped, and with a voluptuous dreaminess in them. their length owed nothing to the artificial blackening of their corners with henna. she saw we admired her, and was evidently pleased. she laughed, and made eyes at us throughout the evening; and at night, when all the inmates of the room rolled themselves up in their blankets, and stretched themselves round the fire in a circle, feet to the blaze, she brought us some mats for pillows, and tucked us in very nicely with her delicate fingers. "bothmir, mik" (good health, friends), was the frequent challenge of our jovial host. he insisted on our drinking a fair amount of raki. he was not backward himself; i am sorry to say even an arnaut will get drunk upon occasion. after dinner a happy thought struck me. i rose, and plunging my hand into our saddle-bag, produced a bottle of brandy we had brought with us from scutari. this was a great and unaccustomed luxury to the arnauts. i do not think they had ever tasted it before. they smacked their lips over it, and repeatedly said, "raki inglesi mir, mir" (the english raki is good). at last to bed. comfortably rolled up in blankets, in spite of insects--we did not mind anything in that line now--we slept till daybreak. the boulim-bashi then awoke us. the fire was raked up, coffee was made, our horses were saddled, the stirrup-cup was drunk over our good-byes to our friends, and we were off. the arnauts are very proud. it would be a grievous insult to offer a man money in return for his hospitality. the proper thing to do is to distribute what you intend to give among the children. when you are gone, the mother goes round and collects it from her offspring; it is then put away, to be expended in sugar, salt, and other necessaries, on the next market-day at scutari. at this great elevation the morning was bitterly cold. the aspect was very desolate--a wilderness of rock and stone, with scanty vegetation. far away, thousands of feet beneath us, stretched the white sheet of the lake of scutari, looking cold in the early morning, with the bleak grey montenegrin mountains in the background. from sunrise to sunset we rode over the trackless and almost inaccessible mountains. we met several men during the day, fine and fierce-looking members of the klementi tribe. every one had a martini-henry rifle and a belt of cartridges. the stories we had heard of these people from the turks at helm were evidently true; these weapons had never been bought. indeed their owners had little idea of their value. one mountaineer we met pointed to his rifle, and said, "inghilterra, sa paré?" signifying that he wished to know what was its value in england. on hearing the amount he seemed much astonished, smiled grimly, stroked the weapon, and said, "ah! the skipitar get them for less than that." such an abundance of cartridges have these highlanders managed to steal that it is a common sight to see a shepherd firing his rifle in the air, at frequent intervals, to drive his sheep. the people we passed all stopped, and questioned the boulim-bashi as to who we were, and whither we were bound. on hearing that gussinje was our destination they looked surprised, and made that clicking noise with the tongue and teeth which with us signifies pity or annoyance--in albania, mere wonder or admiration. the sign language of this people is so utterly different from ours that it is impossible to get on with them at first. for instance, they do not shake the head when they wish to refuse anything, but bow and wave the hand, in a manner which would lead any one to imagine they meant to accept. it was evident they all looked on us as doomed if we entered gussinje. so far i could not make out whether they sympathized with the rebels or not. towards midday we reached the summit of the range, and on turning a bluff of rock there lay beneath us one of the most magnificent gorges i had ever seen, even in the alps. the great mountain was rent into a profound ravine, whose sides were nearly perpendicular. there were places where the precipice ran down sheer, for 4000 feet at least. where there was any footing, grand larches and beeches, tinted with the golden shades of autumn, covered the slopes. far below one heard the roar of the great torrent, but a purple haze lay at the bottom of the gorge, and concealed the foaming waters. this ravine forms the frontier of montenegro and albania. as jones suggested, a very scientific-looking frontier too. our destination, the village of klementi, was situated on the edge of the torrent, some miles higher up the valley. we now had to descend from the mountain to the bottom of the ravine. a perilous descent it was. the path, a mere goat-track, zigzagged down the precipice. it was necessary to dismount, and watch the horses carefully. they stumbled every moment, and slid rather than walked. in places the path would give a sharp turn, and here the boulim-bashi would hold on to each animal's tail as he passed the awkward corner, to prevent him going right over the edge. there were some very nasty bits, and even these mountain horses trembled with nervousness at times. we passed a house on the bank of the torrent in the afternoon. the whole family came out to see the travellers. these people were friends of our companion. the men came out, shook hands with us, and then entered into an animated conversation with the boulim-bashi on the subject of the war. while we sat on our saddles outside the house the women brought to us refreshments, apples, cakes, and raki, first taking our hands and kissing them respectfully. this was a very long day's journey. now riding, and now walking, we ascended the ravine, fording the torrent several times, whenever one or the other side of it afforded the better path. the scenery was grand, but desolate; in the higher portion of the valley the forests that clothed the lower end were wanting. great walls of rock fell sheer into the turbulent stream; and in places great fan-shaped slopes of débris--masses of mountain broken up by hurricanes--jutted out across the gorge, damming up the waters into profound pools. these gigantic wastes of black stone, streaked as they were by patches of snow in strong contrast with their whiteness, gave an impressive weirdness and desolation to the scenery. about an hour after dark we halted before a large two-storied hut. "_scpiia nik leka_," said the boulim-bashi--the house of nik leka. here, then, we were at last in the stronghold of the notorious arnaut chieftain. we entered the large lower room, which in every respect was similar to that in which we passed the previous night at castrati. there were at least fifteen people squatting round the fire--men, women, and children. a tall, splendidly-built, and very handsome man came up and greeted us. he was about fifty years of age, very dark, with a much-lined, sad-looking face. he had fine black eyes, deeply sunk, and surmounted by bushy black eyebrows. there was something exceedingly frank and noble in his look--a man one could trust. this turned out to be the brother of nik leka, and, as we afterwards found, much resembled that chieftain. we sat down by the fire, and all were busy in attending to our comforts, when a door opened, and, to our astonishment, there bustled in a jolly-looking little fat franciscan monk, a very friar tuck. he wore the brown frock and girdle of his order; but, like all the franciscan missionaries in turkey, his head was covered with a fez. he was followed by a quaint, lean, smiling old arnaut with a lamp, a simple, goodnatured-looking being--the faithful old servant of the mission; he had been for forty years in the service of the franciscans. the friar came up to us and shook us by the hands in a most cordial manner. "come up to the mission," he said; "come up to the mission, and stay with us. ah! what joy to see europeans up in our wilderness! come along!" and he fairly dragged us off. not thirty yards distant was the mission-house, a very comfortable establishment for this country--a low building, with a small church adjoining it. at the door we were met by the three other brothers, as cordial and jolly as the first. never did traveller fall into better hands. they all bustled about, jabbering and laughing incessantly, doing all they could for our comfort. maccaroni and mutton kybobs were soon prepared; and they stood round, pressing us to eat, and helping us to abundant portions as we sat at the table. i have seldom heard men laugh so heartily and boisterously as did our jolly hosts. the feeblest joke set them off in a roar. "this," said the fat little father luigi, pointing to the smiling servant, "this is our lord mayor; he looks after our corporation--ha! ha! ha!" the dinner over, we sat down over pipes and coffee, and talked for half the night. they were really glad to see us; never were strangers so quickly made at home as we were. of course the conversation soon turned on the object of our journey. "go to gussinje!" said father john; "impossible! you cannot go. why they will at once cut your throat. these turchi at gussinje are animals--beasts--swine. o, my dear brother edouardo, you must not go. why, even we dare not go there; the arnauts dare not go. nik leka went there three days ago, to see ali bey; for that beast desires an alliance with the klementi. nik leka has not returned; we fear they have killed him. if so, god help this country; for the klementis will take their guns and yataghans, and march on gussinje to avenge their chief." this did not sound very encouraging to us; but we had come so far that we did not relish the idea of abandoning our project now. we knew the timid monks would most probably, with very good intentions, exaggerate the dangers. as they were the only people we could converse with, we saw it would be necessary to impress them with the absolute necessity of our progressing, else they would lend us no assistance in what they considered to be a fatal journey. our four hosts were italians; luigi came from turin, john from naples, and the two others from modena. i am not a proficient at italian, so we conversed in dog latin, putting in an italian word now and then, when we could not call up the latin equivalent. it was a curious mixture, but we got on fairly well with it. i had a little conversation with jones; he was as determined as myself to visit gussinje if at all feasible; so we decided to dissimulate a little, in order to obtain the very necessary assistance of our friends. i said, "i know to go to gussinje is dangerous--very dangerous possibly; but we have been sent to see ali bey at all hazards, and must not go back without doing so. we have friends at gussinje, and i do not think we run so much risk as you imagine." the worthy monks now, of course, concluded that we were political envoys; that our mission was secret, and not to be divulged to them; but that its object was to settle the gussinje difficulty and hinder bloodshed. they then saw that we were right in insisting in running the risk, for it was our duty to do so. they would do likewise in our place. they looked very sad, shook their heads, and said, "ah, my brothers, but you go to a certain death. however, as you must go, we will help you; we will write a letter in arnaut to ali bey, asking whether he will see you, and send men to escort you to the town. the brother of nik leka will take the letter. to-morrow you can ride to the hut of gropa, in the mountain; it is but two hours from gussinje. there you can await the reply." the letter was written. i did not quite like the idea of playing the amateur diplomatist in this way; but we had gone too far to go back now, and without doing this there was no chance of our seeing gussinje. the missionaries evidently looked upon and admired us as noble martyrs, sacrificing our lives to duty. they insisted on our drinking an abundance of wine. i suppose they thought this was our last chance of so doing. we found from them (and what they said was confirmed by others) that we had been greatly misinformed by the leaguesmen of scutari as to the strength and nature of the organization. there were not 35,000 men at gussinje, but between 6000 and 7000. these were all mussulmen--albanians and bosnian refugees, and deserters from the turkish army--a frightful rabble, the scum of this part of europe. artillery they had none. they told us that an army of 10,000 montenegrins, with some field artillery, was encamped in a strong position, not two hours' march from gussinje. the general of the black mountaineers was marco milano, a man who has already made himself a name in former wars. of him, most probably, the world will hear more some day. from all accounts he is a man of uncommon ability, one of those strong characters that inspire confidence in all whom they come across. he is an albanian by birth, from the neighbourhood of gussinje. irritated by some injustice he had received at the hands of the turks, he fled from his native land, and took refuge in the black mountain, where his talents soon brought him to the front. as a renegade always is, he is the bitterest foe to his race, and his voice is ever for a policy of war and aggression. this, at any rate, is his reputation in albania. as for the catholic arnauts, who the scutarines told us were fighting for the league, not one of these people sympathized with the insurgents in the slightest degree. they knew too well that if these mussulmen succeeded in their projects it would go hard with the christians. at this time the mollahs in gussinje had taken up arms, and were exciting the population to religious frenzy, preaching the death of all infidels. ali bey, a wise man, was indeed working hard to gain as allies the powerful arnaut tribes. he had invited nik leka, the most influential chieftain of the north, to gussinje for this object. "nik leka," said padre luigi, "will talk to him--talk as much as ali likes--he is a regular diplomat; but fight for the beasts of turchi--not he. he may promise to allow bands of men to go unmolested through these mountains on their way to gussinje, but he will want an equivalent for that. the arnauts hate the montenegrins and turchi alike; most probably they will shoot and plunder detached parties of both sides." the missionaries spoke very highly of the christian highlanders. "ah! they have many virtues," they said. "good friends, good fathers, good husbands; kind to each other, truthful, hospitable, never treacherous; they are a noble people. but," continued luigi with a sigh, "they are such savages, so utterly indifferent to human life. they have but one absorbing vice, and that is their love of murder." this cruel vendetta of theirs, which decimates the population, is horrible. there are no really old men. every man is murdered sooner or later. it is thus they wish to die. to die in bed is a disgrace. in battle they behead their own wounded friends; this is looked on as a favour; for to survive, maimed and unfit for war, would bring lasting reproach on a warrior and his family. nik leka's brother walked off with the letter for ali bey at midnight. he carefully loaded his pistols and rifle before starting. chapter xvi. the mission-house--gropa--the mandolin--a letter from ali bey--a trap--our throats in danger--retreat--nik leka--proverbs--a pleasant evening. the next morning we were up early. the good priests would not hear of our leaving them till after the midday meal. "gropa is but three hours or so from here," they said; "you have lots of time to stay and look over our church." the little mission-house of selz, as this the chief hamlet of the klementi is called, is built on a terrace in the hill side, which commands a grand view of the ravine; gigantic bare cliffs of dark stone shut it in on every side. a small graveyard, where are buried all the monks that have died since the institution of the mission, lies to the front of the residence. we went inside the little chapel. very primitive and rough paintings of biblical incidents ornamented the walls, the productions of the monks. most of these were some 200 years old at least. the franciscans have undoubtedly done much good in albania. they have been here from a very remote time. they have suffered persecutions, have died the death of martyrs, but have succeeded in completely winning the affections of the wild arnauts. as luigi said to me, "why, should one of us be ill-used by the turks, the whole of the mountains would rise in our defence. we need fear nothing here now." the headquarters of the order in albania is at scutari, where there is a large convent. i was much struck by the evidently sincere respect and love all the mountaineers entertained for their spiritual fathers. one could see that these men must be doing good here. before we started for gropa, the snow began to fall heavily. we bid adieu to our good hosts. they kissed us and wept over us, for they feared we should never return, and insisted on filling our saddle-bag with wine, maize, bread, and mutton. gropa, which signifies in the albanian tongue the hollow, is not a village, but a miserable one-roomed hut, situated at the extreme end of the ravine, by the source of the torrent. the path was coated with ice, and very perilous for the horses. our guide, a savage-looking klementi, walked bare-footed over the sharp stones and frozen snow with utter indifference. the hut was nearly snowed up when we reached it. it was a desolate spot. a black pine-wood rose behind it on the hill-side. an hour's walk through this would have brought us to the summit of the ridge which overlooks gussinje. the hut was inhabited by a man, his wife, and one child. a blazing fire was made up; then converting our mutton into kybobs, we made a capital dinner. they gave us coffee, but sugar they had none. our guide, who had lately walked bare-footed over the ice quite at his ease all the time, now placed his feet in the ashes of the fire with a like indifference. extremities of heat and cold affected the hardy highlander very little. our host was a musician in his way. he took down his mandolin, and with it accompanied one of the monotonous songs of his country. the albanian mandolin is like a small banjo with three strings, and is played not with the fingers, but a chip of hard wood or bone. these albanian songs are not unpleasing, barbarous as is their music. the first line of each verse is the same as the last line of the preceding verse. there is a peculiar sadness and subdued fierceness in the way they sing which is really very affecting. the song is always of war, of victories over the karatag, feuds with the turk, or the doings of the heroic scanderbeg. the mandolin is peculiar to albania. the guzla of montenegro has but one string, and is played with a bow like a violin. at midnight we were awakened by the entry of two men. one was the brother of nik leka; the other a bosnian mussulman, by his dress. the arnaut clapped me on the back. "mir, mir," he said, "gussinje." then he pointed to a letter. i understood what he meant. ali bey had given his permission, had written a letter to the fathers to that effect, and had sent this bosnian soldier with it to seltz. the soldier returned to gussinje at once, while nik leka's brother also left us, to carry the epistle to the franciscan mission. all seemed now to be going well, and very delighted we were. we should see gussinje after all. it was early the next morning, when father john suddenly made his appearance at the hut. he looked alarmed and anxious, and talked rapidly to our host. something unpleasant had evidently occurred. we waited patiently till he vouchsafed to explain matters. "i have heard from ali bey," he said. "here is his letter. i will translate it to you. he writes thus:- "'to father john, greeting. "'we have read--we have understood. the chiefs have assembled. if these people will be hostages, will guarantee that marco milano withdraw the karatags within three days, let them come to gussinje; if not, they had better not come. "'from ali pasha.'" this was hardly what could be called a hearty welcome. said john, "you understand what that means. if you can guarantee that the montenegrins withdraw their troops--" "we cannot do that." "of course not. well, if you go they will wait three days, then cut off your heads. now nik leka's brother has also brought this news from gussinje. when they heard of your arrival, some of the men said, 'we have heard of these people. they have been to podgoritza; they are friends of the montenegrin chiefs. they must be spies. one is a red-bearded russian (this was jones). they are accursed giaour traitors.' then thirty men decided to leave gussinje last night, and surprise and murder you here in this hut. ali bey heard of it, and stopped them. but nik leka's brother says that you had better not stay here. the gussinians are violently excited about you; they thirst for your blood. come back to seltz." we were sitting down to breakfast when we heard all this cheering and appetizing information. my back was to the door, as was jones's, when i heard a noise outside, and the next moment i saw the franciscan drop the meat he was holding, turn very pale, and stare in a frightened way in that direction. i turned; the doorway was blocked up by two men, evidently two of the defenders of gussinje--one in bosnian dress, one in albanian festinelle. both were armed to the teeth. their faces were not prepossessing. there was a fierce, stern look in their eyes, which wandered anxiously and fiercely round the hut, and a determined expression in their tightly compressed lips, which meant mischief. whether more were behind, we could not yet see. jones and myself were unarmed. according to the custom of the country, we had delivered our revolvers over to our host. he too, and also the priest, were without weapons. the two parties looked at each other without speaking for a moment or two. our host's wife took her child by the hand, and looked steadily on with compressed lips, to see what would happen next. an arnaut woman is familiar with bloodshed. however, bloodshed was not intended, it seemed. "we are envoys from ali pasha," said the albanian. "come in, then," said our host, suspiciously. they entered, but seemed ill at ease, and suspicious of foul play. however, we made no advance towards our arms, and keeping a sharp eye on the men, continued to eat our kybobs. they sat by us. the albanian went on, the franciscan translating,--"ali bey will see these englishmen, but he does not wish them to enter the town; he cannot rely on his men. ali bey is but one man; he cannot protect them, if some wish evil to these men. ali bey and the chiefs will therefore meet them outside the town. let them come with us." it seemed improbable that ali should have sent these men with another message, so soon after the first. the albanian is deliberate in counsel, and does not alter his mind in this way as a rule. "do not go," whispered the franciscan. "do not believe them; there is some treachery." after what we had heard, we thought our friend might be right, therefore we refused to avail ourselves of their escort. their faces fell. they talked long and eagerly to the priest and our host. the priest said to me, "listen to what i say, but show no surprise or alarm. let them not think i am telling you this. they are talking to our host about you. they say you are spies, and they are endeavouring to raise his suspicions of you; they mean you evil. o amici," he said in his dog latin, "multum est periculum per vos." i now entered into an explanation of our journey. i showed that it was the most natural thing in the world that we had visited montenegro; and soon disarmed any suspicion our host entertained; but the two gussinians stuck to the point. the bosnian turned fiercely to the arnaut. "by allah," he said, "they are spies. we have twenty friends in the hills behind here; since they will not come with us, we will kill them here; now is the time." i remember the very words in which father john, with pale face, translated this to us: "ille homo," he said, "dixit ad alium, nunc est tempus intercidere illos homines." the arnaut spoke. he stood up in his hut with quiet dignity, and without showing the least excitement said, "these are my guests. you think that i will assist you to kill them. they are my friends; i will defend them. now you are armed; we are not. possibly you may kill us; but remember, it is nearly three hours to gussinje. men of our tribe have seen you approach; rest assured there are many rifles of the klementi among the rocks. if you wish to go to ali bey, and not rot on the klementi hill-sides, you had better go in peace." the men looked at each other in silence; they knew the words of the arnaut were true, and not being yet weary of existence, swallowed their coffee and sulkily left the hut. we took our revolvers and went outside, to see if any others were in sight. there were none; but on a rock that commanded an extensive view, we saw the erect form of a white-clad arnaut, rifle in hand, scanning the ridge of the hill. the klementis had evidently kept their eyes open. the probability is that these men had left gussinje without the permission or cognizance of ali bey, and hoped with a fabricated message from the chieftain to tempt us to follow them to some spot, away from our friends the klementis, where an ambush lay in wait for us. in their annoyance at our refusal to accompany them, they had betrayed their object. no sooner was this adventure concluded than the occupants of the hut sat down and continued their coffee-drinking and smoking, as if nothing had happened. little events of this kind are every day occurrences in this wild country, and are thought nothing of. the woman put her hand to her throat and drew it backwards and forwards, then laughed merrily, evidently chaffing us about the two separate risks we had so recently run of losing our heads. as it was now evident that the people of gussinje were not very anxious to entertain us, we saw there was nothing left but to return to scutari. we were very disappointed; but what could we do? we rode back with father john to seltz. the missionaries and the lord mayor rushed out. they were delighted to see us return in safety. "ah! frater edouardo, frater athol, come in. my poor friends, come in and sit down. how alarmed you must have been. fear not; here you are safe." during dinner our story was repeated over and over again by the gesticulative little father john, and great was the commiseration expressed for us by the kind-hearted fellows. the lord mayor became very warlike. "had they hurt you, i would have taken a gun, gone to gussinje, and shot ali bey--that devil!--myself," he shouted. while we sat round the fire after our meal, the door opened. "nik leka!" joyfully cried out our hosts, "nik leka safe! praise be to the lord." the celebrated arnaut chieftain stalked in smiling, kissed each father on the cheek, shook us warmly by the hand, and sat down by the fire. he was very like his brother, a splendid specimen of a barbarian warrior; very handsome, with an expression that curiously combined great good-nature with a certain amount of latent ferocity. he corroborated all we had heard about the feelings entertained towards us at gussinje, and said, "you would not live long were you in that _ferri_--that hell over the mountains." he himself had been obliged to escape, for his life was in danger among the fanatical inhabitants. "they are like madmen," he said, "now--starving, desperate." he expressed intense hatred of the _turkis_, as the albanians call all mohammedans. "devils," he said, "robbers. '_ku turku vee kambet atu sdel baar_' (where the turk puts his foot, the grass grows not)." nik leka has one vanity--he likes to be called a diplomatist. talk to him on politics, the handsome warrior puts on a very knowing and wise expression. our conversation ran very much on politics to-night. the fathers said, "these arnauts have one wish. they know that an albanian autonomy means mussulman fanaticism, war, and christians driven from the plain to starve in the mountains. what they wish is, that you english would take the country. all the mountaineers discuss this and desire it. so too do the christian townsmen. do you think england will occupy albania?" this was a poser. i did not like to say england would never dream of doing such a thing, and that austria would have a word to say in the matter, so merely pleaded ignorance as to the counsels of my country. nik leka nodded his head when my response was translated to him, smiled and winked at me, as much as to say, "ah, these priests don't understand politics. we diplomatists hold our tongues." nik leka told us that our old friend the bullying bekir kyochi, for so is spelt a name pronounced as bektsé tchotché, was in gussinje with the leaguesmen. "i should say the scutarines will not weep much if the montenegrins take his head," i said. "ah," wisely replied the chieftain, "we say in albania, '_ana e kecie nuk schet_'" (the worthless pot does not break). nik leka, i found, considered that the discourse of a great diplomatist should be liberally interspersed with pithy saws and proverbs. he rolled them out with unction, and repeated each two or three times till he arrived at what he considered to be a properly emphatic delivery. he told us he would accompany us back to scutari; we should start early on the morrow. we were in luck; we had travelled hither with the boulim-bashi of the tribe, we were to return with its head man. we conversed till a very late hour. "a veritable tower of babel," said father john, with his stentorian roar. latin, albanian, italian, sclav, and english words were flying about the room, to the utter confusion of the lord mayor, who sat, looking very wise and sleepy, trying to make out what on earth it all meant. i rose very high in the estimation of nik leka, when he heard that it was in latin i conversed with the fathers. i was a greater diplomatist than ever in his eyes. he was a curious fellow. he would look at me thoughtfully, then suddenly jump up, shake me violently by the hand, and cry, "_mik, mik_" (you are my friend; you are my friend)--and then burst out laughing. a very jovial evening we all spent over the log fire, drinking the fathers' wine and raki. chapter xvii. rosso and effendi--a barbaric feast--patoulis--mead--the future of albania--the italia irridenta--sport in meriditia--dick deadeye. very warm and affectionate were our farewells on the morrow, when we left the good franciscans. "ah!" said luigi, "it is a sad thing thus to make friends, and so soon part for ever. we may meet perhaps in some other remote land. for we franciscans are ever changing the scene of our labour--now here, now there; in the deserts, in the teeming cities; but always _in regionibus infidelium_." we saddled and mounted our horses, and commenced our ride down the ravine. nik leka walked; he carried with him two long pistols and a martini-henry rifle, all, i observed, at full cock. this was all the luggage he took with him. honour should be given where honour is due. never did member of the equine race behave so well as did the fat little effendi and the lean and haggard rosso. for twelve hours out of the twenty-four from dark to dark, for six consecutive days, did these worthy animals carry us over this wilderness of rock and ice. fodder was scarce. rosso lived chiefly on the rare bits of timber he met on the way. he did not care much for live trees, but had a preference for the more tasty, decayed fallen wood. he was a _gourmand_ in his way. effendi had a more delicate stomach; a diet of fresh fallen snow had greater charms for him than any other. we found they were of one mind, or rather stomach, in their intense relishing of maize bread. our return journey was rendered difficult and dangerous by the frozen snow which covered the mountains. however, just as the sun was setting we approached the hut of castrati. half a mile from it we passed a woman. she stopped, and spoke to us. we at once recognized the pretty, smiling face. it was our old friend the wife of the owner of the house. she ran on before us to apprize her husband of our arrival. nik leka evidently saw that we admired the lady. he was much tickled, slapped me on the shoulder, and said, "castrati mir" (nice place, castrati). "ah," i said, "grue castrati fort mir" (the women of castrati very nice). the chieftain roared with laughter. my remark was repeated over and over again in the hut this evening, and much amused every one. on entering the hospitable house, our host and all the other inhabitants of it came forward, and gave us a very cordial welcome. they were genuinely glad to see us back safe. nik leka told our story. they laughed, pointed to their throats, and shook us by the hands. our pretty hostess, speaking broken albanian, so that we might understand her, added, "gussinje yok mir, castrati mir." a lot of neighbours came in. every one was bustling about; preparations were being evidently made for a grand feast in our honour. the old crone in the corner was just where we had left her; i don't suppose she had moved since. she was awakened from her lethargy by the unwonted hubbub, looked peevishly round now and then, and mumbled savagely. i must describe this evening's feast in full, so characteristic was it. the fire, as i before said, was lit in the middle of the mud floor, the smoke escaping as it could. huge logs--i ought rather to say trees--were now piled on. a tremendous blaze was made up. when we entered, the fire was low, a loaf of maize cooking in the embers. the method of making these loaves is simple. when the fire has burnt long, and the floor beneath is thoroughly hot, the ashes are scraped away in the centre, the loaf is placed on the bare mud, and an iron cover, which fits closely to it, placed above it. then the hot ashes are once more raked back till they entirely bury the loaf and its cover; and the baking commences. our host went out and killed the fatted sheep, and proceeded to prepare it for roasting whole. a slit was made down the belly, the entrails were taken out, the feet were tucked into the slit, which was then carefully sewed up, and a wooden spit was run right through the carcase from head to tail. it was brought in and placed over the fire. the spit worked on two rough logs, one of the women turning it with her hand. we commenced our dinner by coffee drinking. there is certainly but one way of making coffee--that in vogue in these regions. let my readers attend to this receipt, and try it. on the fire is a pot of boiling water. a small saucepan, with a long handle, just big enough to hold a coffee cup of water is taken (n.b. a small turkish coffee cup). into it is thrown a teaspoonful of coffee, freshly ground and freshly roasted, also a lump of sugar. boiling water is poured on it till the saucepan is full. then the saucepan is put on the fire. it boils over, is taken off for ten seconds. three times this operation is repeated, then the thick fluid is poured into the cup; and delicious it will be found to be, if you once get over your prejudice against grounds. we and all the other men squatted on our rugs round the blazing fire and roasting sheep, and commenced our dinner, the women, according to eastern fashion, standing or sitting in the corners of the room, watching us, and waiting till we had done, when they would come in for their share of the feast. the old crone was a favoured person; a bone was occasionally thrown to her by the host while we dined, which she seized in her skeleton hands, and sucked greedily with her toothless chaps. there was a knowing old dog by her who knew, and took a mean advantage of, her blindness and weakness, for he managed occasionally to steal a succulent morsel out of her very hands. while the sheep was roasting we were obliged to eat little delicacies, intended, i suppose, to tickle our appetites. our host would take "patoulis" from the ashes of the fire (a sort of rancid, heavy dripping cake), smear them thickly with honey, then on the top of all scatter large lumps of goat's-milk cheese, and hand them to us in a pressing way that permitted no refusal. we were forced to eat so many of these that the roasting sheep, of which we knew we would have to partake freely, turned before our eyes like a horrid nightmare. meanwhile nik leka looked on benignantly as he put away the cakes in a way that surprised us. we washed down all this with a very greasy sort of mead. though of a fairly omnibibant nature, we could hardly stomach this. at last we came to the "_misch i pickun_," as the roasted sheep is called. our host cut it up with his yataghan, then proceeded to tear the flesh with his fingers. we were well looked after, and treated as honoured guests. the arnaut would pull off some rich lump of fat, enclosing a kidney, and hand it to one of us. the meat was really very good; all its richness is kept in by this way of cooking, but probably a delicate-stomached person might not relish the idea of devouring lumps of tepid mutton fat with his fingers, without bread or salt. i think i did very creditably at this meal. i know jones, who finally collapsed and could do no more, looked at me with amazement. fat and lean and crackling followed each other. our host and nik leka did not leave me alone for a moment. now and then one of them would tear off a large shred of meat, and stuff it into our saddle-bag for the next day's provision. at last we were as replete as homer's heroes. indeed the whole scene carried one back to those days. the besiegers of troy lit the fire of logs, and roasted the beasts whole, and ate till they could not stand or talk, just as did these no less savage arnauts. just like these too, when the banquet was over, did they show their gratitude to their host, and appreciation of his hospitality, by frequent hiccups and belchings. the women and dogs gobbled up the remains in their corner, as we smoked our cigarettes and toasted ourselves in old raki. we were up before daylight the next morning. it had snowed heavily in the night, so our descent to the plain was slow, and not unattended with danger. our good-byes at castrati before starting were affectionate and protracted. "_me teneson miku idaxtun!_" (good-bye, dear friends), were the last words of our pretty hostess, as she waved her hand to her departing admirers. at the khan of koplik, where we were beginning to be well known (this was our fourth visit to it), we lunched off the fragments of the sheep which our host had thrown into our saddle-bags in the exuberance of his hospitality on the previous night. it was dark long before we entered the intricate lanes of the faubourg of scutari. so here we were once again, having failed in our attempt to reach gussinje. however, the expedition had not been altogether a vain one. we had seen a good deal of the manners and customs of the arnaut; had journeyed away from the main roads into the heart of the great mountains, where, i believe, none of our countrymen had ever ventured before; and again, we had learnt a good deal more of the real strength of the league than a month's inquiries at scutari could have taught us. not that i did not take the franciscans' account with a few grains of salt. the fathers hated the mussulmen, and were anxious to withdraw our sympathies from the defenders of gussinje. the world will hear a good deal of the doings of this albanian league some day, so a few remarks on what, from my observations, i consider to be the real condition of affairs, will not, i think, be here out of place. the chiefs of the association are, i believe, honest men, patriotic, and determined to carry out their programme to the death. ali bey is spoken very highly of even by the montenegrins, and if reports prove true, will show himself no indifferent general. nearly every mussulman in albania is a member of the league, and its forces are daily swollen by refugees from bosnia and deserters from the turkish army. that turkey at first secretly assisted and encouraged the movement, i think there can be no doubt. at any rate it is certain that the porte's representatives, even her highest officers in this country, openly sympathized with it. but the league has waxed too strong for the government, who could not crush it now were it desirous of doing so. the leaguesmen, feeling their strength, have extended their programme. defence of their native land against foreign invasion is now not their only cry, but autonomy, and the shaking off of the turkish yoke are boldly discussed in the bazaars of the garrison towns. the montenegrin difficulty may be settled; the principality may agree to take some lands near antivari in lieu of the gussinje and plava district; but there are other and more serious complications behind. to resist the advances of austria on the north and greece on the south are the avowed objects of the league. it is only too probable that the dual empire will be compelled to carry her arms into this province; for a lawless, fanatical, self-ruling albania will be far too troublesome and dangerous a neighbour for her disaffected bosnia. an occupation of albania is confidently spoken of by all the austrian officers i met in dalmatia. but an invasion of this country will be no mere military promenade. as mountainous, and as easy of defence as montenegro--inhabited by at least as warlike a race, and better armed, albania may prove as hard a nut to crack, as the black mountain has proved to turkey, who for hundreds of years has in vain hurled army after army to perish on those grey rocks. i think there can be little doubt, too, that the christian arnauts will join the league, in case of any invasion. they, too, love their independence--for independent they practically are, the turkish yoke never having been felt in these wild hills. passionately fond of war, poor and starving, as the highlanders have been since the turco-russian war, the certainty of plunder, if nothing else, would compel them to join one side or the other,--and which that side would be it is not difficult to say. that the turks can effectually interfere is quite impossible. any one who knows how high-strung the mussulman sentiment now is, how insubordinate the generally obedient ill-treated turkish soldier has now become, can easily foresee what would be the natural result of a turkish general leading his men to fight against their co-religionists, in order to force them to deliver their country to the giaour. they would mutiny, lay down their arms, fraternize with the men they had been incited to slay. it would be the tale of mehemet ali over again. i see some wild story went the round of the european papers, to the effect that muktar pasha had led a force against gussinje, and had been assassinated. as a matter of fact he was, to my knowledge, nowhere near gussinje at the time. but such would be the fate of any commander who led turkish troops on so unholy an errand. the montenegrins have openly declared that they will treat the soldiers of the league as rebels, giving no quarter. they are very sanguine; but in my opinion if the black mountaineers and the albanians are allowed to settle their quarrel by themselves, no other power intervening, we may hear of ali bey at cettinje, before we hear of marco milano at gussinje. how the albanian difficulty will end it is difficult to see. that the troubles of this lawless province of turkey may indirectly lead to serious complications is more than likely. beyond the adriatic, too, lies another power, that is eagerly watching the progress of matters--italy. the italia irridenta party is very anxious that the government should lay a claim to albania, when the day of turkey's dismemberment comes. all italians consider that their country has been slighted and left in the cold in the recent adjustment of oriental affairs. the austrians, without striking a blow, have acquired bosnia and herzegovina. england and france have assumed a sort of protectorate over egypt, even greece has gained territory. that italy is casting covetous eyes on albania is certain; and equally certain is it, that she would be seriously annoyed if austria should occupy the whole eastern adriatic shore, from trieste to the ægean. in albania, one half of the inhabitants are roman catholics. the priests, who here have great influence, are all italians by birth. these are accused of intriguing in the interest of their government, of sowing seeds of rebellion among their flocks. on this point i am not capable of giving an opinion. the franciscan missionaries i met seemed to be anything but friendly disposed towards the rulers of their native land. that the italians have carried on intrigues down the whole east adriatic coast is certain. at the present moment the albanian league are in doubt whether to offer the princedom of their country, when they have liberated it, to ali pasha, midhat pasha, or to a prince of the house of savoy. whatever may eventuate, there is one thing very certain; this is, that neither mussulman nor christian in albania are likely ever again to take up arms in defence of the turkish government. they are sick of it. the mohammedans see that it is impotent to forward their interests in any way. the arnauts, who fought well for turkey in the last war, have been treated with great ingratitude ever since. they will only fight in the future in independent defence of their country against the foreigner. if we are to believe the latest news from these regions; most of the christian clans have at last decided to join the league. when i was in the country they were in a wavering and undecided state. if this news be true, there is every prospect of a long-protracted and ferocious war, for the albanians are a terrible foe, and not easily to be crushed when they once rise in earnest to defend their country, as history has more than once showed. with such a leader as ali pasha seems to be--of great ability, of intense zeal, ambitious to be a second scanderbeg--the autonomy of albania may not be far off, and probably may not be so very undesirable a thing. for here we have a people in religion, sentiment, and race, utterly differing from those greeks and sclavs, to whose mercies mr. gladstone would like to see their native land delivered. they are a people quite apart from the other eastern adriatic peoples--a noble race, that deserves its opportunity quite as much as do montenegro and bulgaria. this question is attracting little attention now, but i should not be surprised to find that before long this attempt of a brave people to acquire its independence will gain the sympathies of the english. ingratitude is not an albanian vice. it might happen that an albanian principality might prove, in some future time, an ally not to be despised. i will conclude these remarks by once more repeating, that any one who travels in these countries with unbiassed mind must be of opinion that the albanians are quite as likely--to say the least of it--to prove capable of self-government, as are any of the southern sclav peoples, and that unless it be deemed best that austria, or some other great power, occupy the country, it would be well that autonomy were granted to them, and exceedingly unwise to deliver them over to greece and the neighbouring slav states, who have quite enough to do in looking after their own affairs. on arriving at toshli's, brown, robinson, our landlords, and other friends, expressed their delight, and even astonishment, at seeing us once more with our heads securely planted on our shoulders. we exchanged experiences with brown and robinson. they chaffed us a little on our failure in gussinje; but we found that we could return the compliment. when they left us for the miridite mountains they (robinson especially) were exceedingly sanguine as to the success of their sporting expedition. they would return to scutari with a train of mules laden with the skins of the beasts they had slain. they were going to make such a bag as had never been heard of in albania. now that they had returned they were remarkably reserved as to their doings in the mountains. they came back empty-handed--of course because they could not procure horses to carry the spoil. at last--first from one, and then from the other--the true story leaked out. their sport had been a dismal failure. they found that the highlands were, to say the least, chilly at this late season. marco struck, and would proceed no further into the snow-covered wilderness, for our arnaut follower had a liking for warmth, and a not unnatural hatred and fear of the fierce brigands of the meriditia, who are the terror of all the country in the vicinity of their mountain fastnesses. under these circumstances they returned to the lowlands, and visited the seaport of alessio, and some other neighbouring towns. the chief events of their expedition were the great hospitality they received from a roman catholic bishop in one place, and from a self-elected pasha, an ex-brigand, in another. another follower had been added to our party during our absence. this was one of those bohemian dogs one occasionally comes across in cities. a disreputable improvident, albeit clever and good-natured animal. he had a profound contempt for orientals, and we were told invariably made the acquaintance of any europeans who visited scutari. he generally managed to pick up something at the consulates, but lived a very hand-to-mouth sort of life; he was liked as a jolly fellow by the decent dogs of scutari. if any canine that ever prided himself on his respectability scorned to associate with him, he, at any rate, had cause to repent, if he audibly expressed his disgust in the vagabond's presence. when the frontier commission was in albania, this dog attached himself to the english delegates, and was by them named "dick deadeye," from his striking personal resemblance to that discontented mariner on board h.m.s. "pinafore." dick deadeye was out of town when we were last at scutari; but as soon as he returned and heard that englishmen were in the town, he hurried off to toshli's, called on robinson and brown, and kindly offered to accompany us whithersoever we might wish to go. a very affectionate old friend he turned out to be; very useful, too. when the savage albanian dogs would rush out from some wayside farm-house to yelp at the strangers' heels, dick deadeye would soon settle them. the season was now far advanced; snow fell nearly every other day; and it was evident that it would be difficult, and very unpleasant, to travel further in this roadless country this year. some of our party, too, wished to be in london by christmas. so, after holding a somewhat stormy counsel, we decided to leave scutari in three days' time, and march to the port of dulcigno, where we should just arrive in time to meet the coasting steamer from corfu to trieste. chapter xviii. the coffin--a pasha's death--horse-dealing--the postman--brigands--an hotel bill--down the bojana--dulcigno--pirates--farewell. we spent these last three days in purchasing arms and other curiosities. between us we collected a very arsenal of strange weapons of every kind. a carpenter at the bazaar constructed a box for us in which to pack them. this box was about six feet in length, and somewhat more than two feet in breadth. it looked uncommonly like a coffin. the ever-ingenious robinson, when it arrived at toshli's spent a whole evening in painting a ghastly-looking mummy on the cover, and other horrible ornaments on its sides. as may be imagined, it created some interest on our journey. the day after our return to scutari the pasha very suddenly died, whereupon the whole city rejoiced much and openly, and indulged in more raki than was good for it. the doctors attributed his decease to apoplexy. it seems he had drunk a cup of coffee, when suddenly he complained of intense pain, and vomited. in ten minutes he was no more. turkish pashas are strangely subject to this curious and fatal illness, which, in nearly all cases, follows the drinking of a cup of coffee or sherbet. perhaps it is in consequence of the well-known antipathy between these beverages and the pashaic stomach that so many of these distinguished men have taken to veuve cliquot, notwithstanding the koran's strict ordinance. no one in scutari for a moment doubted that poison was the true cause of the mysterious complaint. of course there was no post-mortem. the mussulman has a superstitious objection to any mutilation of the human body, in life or death. our faithful companions, rosso and effendi, had next to be sold. we marched them up and down the bazaar day after day, marco loudly dilating on their many virtues. no one seemed very anxious to purchase at our price. the dealer who had sold us rosso offered us one-fifth of the sum we had paid for him originally. yet we had decidedly improved the animal's condition. at last we managed to sell effendi to the austrian consul. but rosso hung on our hands to the very morning of our departure. no one would have him at any price, even his original owner retracted his offer. should we be obliged to leave the poor animal a homeless vagabond, to wander about the streets of scutari in search of a master, begging for crusts to keep life within those pathetic ribs? it seemed like it. brown, in despair, wandered through the alleys of the bazaar, eagerly informing the merchants that he had a red horse for sale. "rosso vendetta," as he expressed it, which, if it means anything, means a sanguinary blood-feud. the quiet christian merchants must have imagined that the englishman was running amuck, and was about to slaughter them all. at the last moment the khanji of the khan where rosso was lodged and fed came to us, and offered us 200 piastres--about 30_s._--for our noble steed. we had to accept it, for the animal was hardly worth taking to england with us. it was a bright sunny morning when we bid a final adieu to our numerous friends at scutari, and started for the coast. we had sent the coffin and our other baggage on in advance, on the backs of the mules of the british consulate postman. there is no post-office or postal service of any kind in north albania, so letters are sent to the coast in this way, to be taken up by the passing steamers. the office of letter-carrier is of some importance in this country, for it is in the gift of the government, the carriers having the monopoly of the transport of all goods from town to town. as there are no roads, and hence no carts in north albania, everything has to be carried on the backs of horses or mules; this of course accounts for the very high prices of all imported goods. each carrier owns some twenty horses, and his calling would be an exceedingly lucrative one were it not for the heavy black-mail levied on him by the brigands. the carrier to dulcigno to whom we had entrusted our baggage, had, we were told, been stopped on his road three times within the last few months. the whole business is managed very quietly. on some lonely portion of the way, a picturesque gentleman, armed to the teeth, suddenly appears, and in few words persuades the drivers to deliver up their charge. these in a philosophically resigned manner accept their ill-luck; discussion they know would be useless, as the muzzles of several long albanian guns peep ominously from the rocks above. we paid toshli's bill, which was quite a curiosity in its way. our landlord had been to some conventual school in his youth, and had acquired the rudiments of the classic tongues. he now utilized his knowledge, by setting down the many items of his account in what he imagined was latin. occasionally, where his memory of that language failed him, he would put down the name of some comestible in greek. he must have taken great trouble in the composition of this document; he came up with it smiling, evidently very proud of it, and remarked that as we did not understand albanian, he had done his best to make it intelligible for us. the total looked enormous, calculated as it was in piastres, more like a national debt than an hotel bill. we shuddered as we contemplated the four figures of the total. however, a little calculation showed us that we were not about to be burdened with an impossible debt, which might keep us here in pawn for the rest of our days. the port of dulcigno is situated half a day's march north of the mouth of the bojana, the river that takes off the waters of the lake of scutari to the sea. the pleasantest way of making the journey, we were told, was to descend the river by boat to a certain bend near the sea, and thence go on on foot. we accordingly hired a londra which lay alongside the quay by the bazaar. our landlords, the boulem-bashi of klementi, and some of our other friends, came to see us off. after a good deal of hand shaking the four englishmen, marco, dick deadeye, and two albanian boatmen, embarked, and we were soon descending the river on the top of a strong current. it would be a very good speculation to run a small steamer to scutari. the navigation of the bojana is easy, and the imports into scutari from abroad are considerable. but i suppose this would be an infringement of the monopoly granted to the carriers; and it will be long ere the authorities perceive the advantages of this mode of transport over the slow, expensive, and dangerous carriage on the backs of mules and horses, across a land unprovided with roads. dick deadeye was in a very melancholy state of mind during this voyage. he lost his appetite, and grumbled to himself a good deal. he had before this descended the bojana with frankish friends, and knew that there was a great water further on, associated in his mind with partings and sorrow; for whenever his companions reached its shores, they would go away from him in a big londra, never to return. he looked very plaintively at us all the day, for he knew that the cruel old story was to be repeated. early in the afternoon we reached the bend in the river that had been described to us, so once more shouldered our guns and commenced our march. our way lay across a flat country covered with a dense jungle of thorn. the road was if possible more abominable than any other we had met with during our whole journey. it was not till late at night that we reached dulcigno, and took up our quarters in a dirty little khan, for this port possesses no such thing as an hotel. we cooked some beef, and after a good supper retired to a hay-loft, where we were able to make ourselves very comfortable for the night. the next morning we were able to inspect dulcigno. a very picturesque little place it is, built at the foot of a fine valley, which opens on the sea. there is no harbour, properly speaking--merely an unprotected roadstead. we were told that the austrian lloyd's steamers did not touch here now, but anchored off a valley some two hours further north, where there was better shelter. when the wind blows strong on shore, the steamer cannot touch even there. dulcigno is a town of about 6000 inhabitants. these are for the most part mussulmen. they have a peculiarly ferocious look, and seem to have little occupation. dulcigno was once a prosperous place, for many a ship was here launched and equipped for piratical purposes. her sailors were renowned as being the bravest and most ferocious buccaneers of the mediterranean. we have now come to look upon piracy as such an extinct profession, in the mediterranean at least, that it seems strange to remember that it is, after all, but a few years since this was the ostensible occupation of the whole population of this coast. many of the discontented, wild-looking fishermen we saw mending their nets on the shingle beach well remembered the good old times, and had themselves taken a part in seizing some stately italian schooner, or bright-coloured dalmatian felucca. we found the carrier and his string of horses just starting for the spot off which the austrian lloyd anchors, to unload or take on board goods for and from scutari. as several of the horses were without burdens, we were able to ride. the road from dulcigno to the little bay to which we were bound was across the most fertile and cultivated country we had yet seen in albania. we passed through very forests of olives; groves of oranges covered the steep hills that sloped down to the calm adriatic; pretty white houses, built in the italian style, were seen rising from the groves; and the people we met on the way had a prosperous look about them, which astonished us, and reminded us that we were approaching civilization. at last we came on a valley whose slopes were entirely covered with olives. at the foot of this valley, the two hills that formed it projected into the sea, terminating in precipitous cliffs, thus forming a little shingle-fringed bay. this was our destination. by the shore were pitched three or four tents, where were encamped a body of soldiers--i presume, on coast-guard duty; for their officer had rather a queer discussion with marco as to the contents of our coffin. he wished to have it opened. marco indignantly refused to allow anything of the sort to be done. "they are englishmen," he said. this, he thought, was a sufficient explanation. the good fellow had one definite and fixed idea, at any rate, on the subject of englishmen. he considered that they were a worthy and eccentric people, who had no country of their own, but who, by divine right, were entitled to do exactly what they liked in any country, not being subject to any laws whatever. this idea, i have found, is shared with him by many of my travelling countrymen. there was a shrill whistle, and the steamer suddenly appeared round the southern point. we placed our baggage in a boat, bid adieu to marco, who kissed our hands over and over again, and wept to see us go; enjoined him to see dick deadeye safely back to scutari--and embarked. poor dick deadeye was inconsolable. it required marco and two soldiers to hold him back from jumping into the boat after us. the wailings of the poor old dog were most pathetic. i suppose that he is now vagabondizing about the capital once more, philosophizing on the inconstancy of human friendship. by this time, probably, he has re-attached himself to his old friends the frontier commissioners, who, i believe, were to renew their labours this may. our general appearance, our baggage, especially the coffin with its painted lid, caused some amusement on the steamer. i will not enter into the incidents of our return journey. for seven days we steamed along the wild coast, and among the rocky islands, till we reached trieste, whence we took train for calais, and so back to london. it was just after that heavy snowstorm that extended over nearly half of europe. from trieste to london the whole country was deeply buried. at venice the snow was two feet deep. in paris all traffic had been stopped. london was little better. and now i must bid farewell to those that have followed me thus far; and to those that seek a tourist-unexplored, not over-inaccessible country, for a summer tour, let me strongly recommend these interesting lands of ancient illyria. finis. london: gilbert and rivington, printers, st. john's square. _a catalogue of american and foreign books published or imported by_ messrs. sampson low & co. _can be had on application._ _crown buildings, 188, fleet street, london, april, 1880._ a selection from the list of books published by sampson low, marston, searle, & rivington. alphabetical list. _a classified educational catalogue of works_ published in great britain. demy 8vo, cloth extra. second edition, revised and corrected to christmas, 1879, 5_s._ _about (edmond)._ _see_ "the story of an honest man." _about some fellows._ by an eton boy, author of "a day of my life." cloth limp, square 16mo, 2_s._ 6_d._ _adventures of captain mago._ a phoenician's explorations 1000 years b.c. by leon cahun. numerous illustrations. crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._; plainer binding, 5_s._ _adventures of a young naturalist._ by lucien biart, with 117 beautiful illustrations on wood. edited and adapted by parker gillmore. post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, new edition, 7_s._ 6_d._ _afghan knife (the)._ a novel. by robert armitage sterndale, author of "seonee." small post 8vo, cloth extra, 6_s._ _afghanistan and the afghans._ being a brief review of the history of the country, and account of its people. by h. w. bellew, c.s.i. crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6_s._ _alcott (louisa m.)_ _jimmy's cruise in the "pinafore."_ with 9 illustrations. second edition. small post 8vo, cloth gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._ ---_aunt jo's scrap-bag._ square 16mo, 2_s._ 6_d._ (rose library, 1_s._) ---_little men: life at plumfield with jo's boys._ small post 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 3_s._ 6_d._ (rose library, double vol. 2_s._) ---_little women._ 1 vol., cloth, gilt edges, 3_s._ 6_d._ (rose library, 2 vols., 1_s._ each.) _alcott (louisa m.)_ _old-fashioned girl._ best edition, small post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 3_s._ 6_d._ (rose library, 2_s._) ---_work and beginning again._ a story of experience. 1 vol., small post 8vo, cloth extra, 6_s._ several illustrations. (rose library, 2 vols., 1_s._ each.) ---_shawl straps._ small post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._ ---_eight cousins; or, the aunt hill._ small post 8vo, with illustrations, 3_s._ 6_d._ ---_the rose in bloom._ small post 8vo, cloth extra, 3_s._ 6_d._ ---_silver pitchers._ small post 8vo, cloth extra, 3_s._ 6_d._ ---_under the lilacs._ small post 8vo, cloth extra, 5_s._ ---_jack and jill._ small post 8vo, cloth extra, 5_s._ "miss alcott's stories are thoroughly healthy, full of racy fun and humour ... exceedingly entertaining.... we can recommend the 'eight cousins.'"--athenæum. _alpine ascents and adventures; or, rock and snow sketches._ by h. schütz wilson, of the alpine club. with illustrations by whymper and marcus stone. crown 8vo, 10_s._ 6_d._ 2nd edition. _andersen (hans christian)_ _fairy tales._ with illustrations in colours by e. v. b. royal 4to, cloth, 25_s._ _animals painted by themselves._ adapted from the french of balzac, georges sands, &c., with 200 illustrations by grandville. 8vo, cloth extra, gilt, 10_s._ 6_d._ _art education._ _see_ "illustrated text books." _art in the mountains: the story of the passion play._ by henry blackburn, author of "artists and arabs," "breton folk," &c. with numerous illustrations, and an appendix for travellers, giving the expenses of the journey, cost of living, routes from england, &c., map, and programme for 1880. 4to, cloth, 10_s._ 6_d._ "of the many previous accounts of the play, none, we are disposed to think, recalls that edifying and impressive spectacle with the same clearness and vividness as mr. blackburn's volume."--_guardian._ "he writes in excellent taste, and is interesting from the first page to the last."--_saturday review._ _art of reading aloud (the) in pulpit, lecture room, or private reunions_. by g. vandenhoff, m.a. crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6_s._ _art treasures in the south kensington museum._ published, with the sanction of the science and art department, in monthly parts, each containing 8 plates, price 1_s._ in this series are included representations of decorative art of all countries and all times from objects in the south kensington museum, under the following classes:- sculpture: works in marble, ivory, and terra-cotta. bronzes: statuettes, medallions, plaques, coins. decorative painting and mosaic. decorative furniture and carved wood-work. ecclesiastical metal-work. gold and silversmiths' work and jewellery. limoges and oriental enamels. pottery of all countries. glass: oriental, venetian, and german. ornamental iron-work: cutlery. textile fabrics: embroidery and lace. decorative bookbinding. original designs for works of decorative art. views of the courts and galleries of the museum. architectural decorations of the museum. the plates are carefully printed in atlas 8vo (13 in. by 9 in.), on thick ivory-tinted paper; and are included in a stout wrapper, ornamented with a drawing from "the genoa doorway" recently acquired by the museum. _asiatic turkey: being a narrative of a journey from bombay to the bosphorus_. by grattan geary, editor of the _times of india_. 2 vols., crown 8vo, cloth extra, with many illustrations, and a route map, 28_s._ _australian abroad (the). branches from the main routes round the world._ comprising the author's route through japan, china, cochin-china, malasia, sunda, java, torres straits, northern australia, new south wales, south australia, and new zealand. by james hingston ("j. h." of the _melbourne argus_). with maps and numerous illustrations from photographs. 2 vols., 8vo, 14_s._ each. _autobiography of sir g. gilbert scott, r.a., f.s.a., &c._ edited by his son, g. gilbert scott. with an introduction by the dean of chichester, and a funeral sermon, preached in westminster abbey, by the dean of westminster. also, portrait on steel from the portrait of the author by g. richmond, r.a. 1 vol., demy 8vo, cloth extra, 18_s._ _baker (lieut.-gen. valentine, pasha)._ _see_ "war in bulgaria." the bayard series, edited by the late j. hain friswell. comprising pleasure books of literature produced in the choicest style as companionable volumes at home and abroad. "we can hardly imagine better books for boys to read or for men to ponder over."--_times._ _price 2s. 6d. each volume, complete in itself, flexible cloth extra, gilt edges, with silk headbands and registers._ _the story of the chevalier bayard._ by m. de berville. _de joinville's st. louis, king of france._ _the essays of abraham cowley_, including all his prose works. _abdallah; or the four leaves._ by edouard laboullaye. _table-talk and opinions of napoleon buonaparte._ _vathek: an oriental romance._ by william beckford. _the king and the commons._ a selection of cavalier and puritan songs. edited by prof. morley. _words of wellington: maxims and opinions of the great duke._ _dr. johnson's rasselas, prince of abyssinia._ with notes. _hazlitt's round table._ with biographical introduction. _the religio medici, hydriotaphia, and the letter to a friend._ by sir thomas browne, knt. _ballad poetry of the affections._ by robert buchanan. _coleridge's christabel_, and other imaginative poems. with preface by algernon c. swinburne. _lord chesterfield's letters, sentences, and maxims._ with introduction by the editor, and essay on chesterfield by m. de ste.-beuve, of the french academy. _essays in mosaic._ by thos. ballantyne. _my uncle toby; his story and his friends._ edited by p. fitzgerald. _reflections; or, moral sentences and maxims of the duke de la rochefoucauld._ _socrates: memoirs for english readers from xenophon's memorabilia._ by edw. levien. _prince albert's golden precepts._ _a case containing 12 volumes, price 31s. 6d.; or the case separately, price 3s. 6d._ _beauty and the beast._ an old tale retold, with pictures by e. v. b. 4to, cloth extra. 10 illustrations in colours, 12_s._ 6_d._ _beumers' german copybooks._ in six gradations at 4_d._ each. _biart (lucien)._ see "adventures of a young naturalist," "my rambles in the new world," "the two friends," "involuntary voyage." _bickersteth's hymnal companion to book of common prayer_ may be had in various styles and bindings from 1_d._ to 21_s._ _price list and prospectus will be forwarded on application._ _bickersteth (rev. e. h., m.a.) the reef and other parables._ 1 vol., square 8vo, with numerous very beautiful engravings, 2_s._ 6_d._ ---_the clergyman in his home._ small post 8vo, 1_s._ ---_the master's home-call; or, brief memorials of alice frances bickersteth._ 20th thousand. 32mo, cloth gilt, 1_s._ ---_the master's will._ a funeral sermon preached on the death of mrs. s. gurney buxton. sewn, 6_d._; cloth gilt, 1_s._ ---_the shadow of the rock._ a selection of religious poetry. 18mo, cloth extra, 2_s._ 6_d._ ---_the shadowed home and the light beyond._ 7th edition, crown 8vo, cloth extra, 5_s._ _bida. the authorized version of the four gospels_, with the whole of the magnificent etchings on steel, after drawings by m. bida, in 4 vols., appropriately bound in cloth extra, price 3_l._ 3_s._ each. also the four volumes in two, bound in the best morocco, by suttaby, extra gilt edges, 18_l._ 18_s._, half-morocco, 12_l._ 12_s._ "bida's illustrations of the gospels of st. matthew and st. john have already received here and elsewhere a full recognition of their great merits."--_times._ _biographies of the great artists, illustrated._ this series is issued in the form of handbooks. each is a monograph of a great artist, and contains portraits of the masters, and as many examples of their art as can be readily procured. they are illustrated with from 16 to 20 full-page engravings. cloth, large crown 8vo, 3_s._ 6_d._ per volume. titian. rembrandt. raphael. van dyck and hals. holbein. rubens. leonardo. turner. the little masters. delaroche & vernet. tintoret and veronese. hogarth. michelangelo. reynolds. gainsborough. figure painters of holland. 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"writing with even more than his usual brilliancy, mr. heath here gives the public an interesting monograph of the splendid old trees.... this charming little work."--_globe._ _butler (w. f.) the great lone land; an account of the red river expedition, 1869-70._ with illustrations and map. fifth and cheaper edition, crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._ ---_the wild north land; the story of a winter journey with dogs across northern north america._ demy 8vo, cloth, with numerous woodcuts and a map, 4th edition, 18_s._ cr. 8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._ ---_akim-foo: the history of a failure._ demy 8vo, cloth, 2nd edition, 16_s._ also, in crown 8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._ _cadogan (lady a.) illustrated games of patience._ twenty-four diagrams in colours, with descriptive text. foolscap 4to, cloth extra, gilt edges; 3rd edition, 12_s._ 6_d._ _caldecott (r.)._ _see_ "breton folk." _carbon process (a manual of)._ _see_ liesegang. _ceramic art._ _see_ jacquemart. _changed cross (the)_, and other religious poems. 16mo, 2_s._ 6_d._ _chant book companion to the book of common prayer._ consisting of upwards of 550 chants for the daily psalms and for the canticles; also kyrie eleisons, and music for the hymns in holy communion, &c. compiled and arranged under the musical editorship of c. j. vincent, mus. bac. crown 8vo, 2_s._ 6_d._; organist's edition, fcap. 4to, 5_s._ _of various editions of hymnal companion, lists will be forwarded on application._ _child of the cavern (the); or, strange doings underground._ by jules verne. translated by w. h. g. kingston. numerous illustrations. sq. cr. 8vo, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._; cl., plain edges, 5_s._ _child's play_, with 16 coloured drawings by e. v. b. printed on thick paper, with tints, 7_s._ 6_d._ ---_new._ by e. v. b. similar to the above. _see_ new. _children's lives and how to preserve them; or, the nursery handbook._ by w. lomas, m.d. crown 8vo, cloth, 5_s._ _children's magazine._ illustrated. _see_ st. nicholas. _choice editions of choice books._ 2_s._ 6_d._ each, illustrated by c. w. cope, r.a., t. creswick, r.a., e. duncan, birket foster, j. c. horsley, a.r.a., g. hicks, r. redgrave, r.a., c. stonehouse, f. tayler, g. thomas, h. j. townshend, e. h. wehnert, harrison weir, &c. bloomfield's farmer's boy. campbell's pleasures of hope. coleridge's ancient mariner. goldsmith's deserted village. goldsmith's vicar of wakefield. gray's elegy in a churchyard. keat's eve of st. agnes. milton's l'allegro. poetry of nature. harrison weir. rogers' (sam.) pleasures of memory. shakespeare's songs and sonnets. tennyson's may queen. elizabethan poets. wordsworth's pastoral poems. "such works are a glorious beatification for a poet."--_athenæum_. _christ in song._ by dr. philip schaff. a new edition, revised, cloth, gilt edges, 6_s._ _cobbett (william)._ a biography. by edward smith. 2 vols., crown 8vo, 25_s._ _comedy (the) of europe_, 1860-1890. a retrospective and prospective sketch. crown 8vo, 6_s._ _conflict of christianity with heathenism._ by dr. gerhard uhlhorn. edited and translated from the third german edition by g. c. smyth and c. j. h. ropes. 8vo, cloth extra, 10_s._ 6_d._ _continental tour of eight days for forty-four shillings._ by a journey-man. 12mo, 1_s._ "the book is simply delightful."--_spectator._ _corea (the)._ _see_ "forbidden land." _covert side sketches: thoughts on hunting, with different packs in different countries._ by j. nevitt fitt (h.h. of the _sporting gazette_, late of the _field_). 2nd edition. crown 8vo, cloth, 10_s._ 6_d._ _crade-land of arts and creeds; or, nothing new under the sun._ by charles j. stone, barrister-at-law, and late advocate, high courts, bombay, 8vo, pp. 420, cloth, 14_s._ _cripps the carrier._ 3rd edition, 6_s._ _see_ blackmore. _cruise of h.m.s. 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"mr. heath has really given us good, well-written descriptions of our native ferns, with indications of their habitats, the conditions under which they grow naturally, and under which they may be cultivated."--_athenæum._ _few (a) hints on proving wills._ enlarged edition, 1_s._ _first steps in conversational french grammar._ by f. julien. being an introduction to "petites leçons de conversation et de grammaire," by the same author. fcap. 8vo, 128 pp., 1_s._ _five years in minnesota._ by maurice farrar, m.a. crown 8vo, cloth extra, 6_s._ _flooding of the sahara (the)._ _see_ mackenzie. _food for the people; or, lentils and other vegetable cookery._ by e. e. orlebar. third thousand. small post 8vo, boards, 1_s._ _a fool's errand._ by one of the fools. crown 8vo, cloth extra, 5_s._ _footsteps of the master._ _see_ stowe (mrs. beecher). _forbidden land (a): voyages to the corea._ by g. oppert. numerous illustrations and maps. demy 8vo, cloth extra, 21_s._ _four lectures on electric induction._ delivered at the royal institution, 1878-9. by j. e. h. gordon, b.a. cantab. with numerous illustrations. cloth limp, square 16mo, 3_s._ _foreign countries and the british colonies._ edited by f. s. pulling, m.a., lecturer at queen's college, oxford, and formerly professor at the yorkshire college, leeds. a series of small volumes descriptive of the principal countries of the world by well-known authors, each country being treated of by a writer who from personal knowledge is qualified to speak with authority on the subject. the volumes will average 180 crown 8vo pages, will contain maps, and, in some cases, a few typical illustrations. _the following volumes are in preparation:--_ denmark and iceland. greece. switzerland. austria. russia. persia. japan. peru. canada. sweden and norway. the west indies. new zealand. _franc (maude jeane)._ the following form one series, small post 8vo, in uniform cloth bindings:----_emily's choice._ 5_s._ ---_hall's vineyard._ 4_s._ ---_john's wife: a story of life in south australia._ 4_s._ ---_marian; or, the light of some one's home._ 5_s._ ---_silken cords and iron fetters._ 4_s._ ---_vermont vale._ 5_s._ ---_minnie's mission._ 4_s._ ---_little mercy._ 5_s._ ---_beatrice melton._ 4_s._ _friends and foes in the transkei: an englishwoman's experiences during the cape frontier war of 1877-8._ by helen m. prichard. crown 8vo, cloth, 10_s._ 6_d._ _froissart (the boy's)._ selected from the chronicles of england, france, spain, &c. by sidney lanier. the volume will be fully illustrated. crown 8vo, cloth, 7_s._ 6_d._ _funny foreigners and eccentric englishmen._ 16 coloured comic illustrations for children. fcap. folio, coloured wrapper, 4_s._ _games of patience._ _see_ cadogan. _gentle life_ (queen edition). 2 vols. in 1, small 4to, 10_s._ 6_d._ the gentle life series. price 6_s._ each; or in calf extra, price 10_s._ 6_d._; smaller edition, cloth extra, 2_s._ 6_d._ a reprint (with the exception of "familiar words" and "other people's windows") has been issued in very neat limp cloth bindings at 2_s._ 6_d._ each. _the gentle life._ essays in aid of the formation of character of gentlemen and gentlewomen. 21st edition. "deserves to be printed in letters of gold, and circulated in every house."--_chambers' journal._ _about in the world._ essays by author of "the gentle life." "it is not easy to open it at any page without finding some handy idea."--_morning post._ _like unto christ._ a new translation of thomas à kempis' "de imitatione christi." 2nd edition. "could not be presented in a more exquisite form, for a more sightly volume was never seen."--_illustrated london news._ _familiar words._ an index verborum, or quotation handbook. affording an immediate reference to phrases and sentences that have become embedded in the english language. 3rd and enlarged edition. 6_s._ "the most extensive dictionary of quotation we have met with."--_notes and queries._ _essays by montaigne._ edited and annotated by the author of "the gentle life." with portrait, 2nd edition. "we should be glad if any words of ours could help to bespeak a large circulation for this handsome attractive book."--_illustrated times._ _the countess of pembroke's arcadia._ written by sir philip sidney. edited with notes by author of "the gentle life." 7_s._ 6_d._ "all the best things are retained intact in mr. friswell's edition."--_examiner._ _the gentle life._ 2nd series, 8th edition. "there is not a single thought in the volume that does not contribute in some measure to the formation of a true gentleman."--_daily news._ _the silent hour: essays, original and selected._ by the author of "the gentle life." 3rd edition. "all who possess 'the gentle life' should own this volume."--_standard._ _half-length portraits._ short studies of notable persons. by j. hain friswell. small post 8vo, cloth extra, 6_s._ _essays on english writers_, for the self-improvement of students in english literature. "to all who have neglected to read and study their native literature we would certainly suggest the volume before us as a fitting introduction."--_examiner._ _other people's windows._ by j. hain friswell. 3rd edition. "the chapters are so lively in themselves, so mingled with shrewd views of human nature, so full of illustrative anecdotes, that the reader cannot fail to be amused."--_morning post._ _a man's thoughts._ by j. hain friswell. _german primer._ being an introduction to first steps in german. by m. t. preu. 2_s._ 6_d._ _getting on in the world; or, hints on success in life._ by w. mathews, ll.d. small post 8vo, cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._; gilt edges, 3s. 6d. _gilpin's forest scenery._ edited by f. g. heath. large post 8vo, with numerous illustrations. uniform with "the fern world" and "our woodland trees." 12_s._ 6_d._ "those who know mr. heath's volumes on ferns, as well as his 'woodland trees,' and his little work on 'burnham beeches,' will understand the enthusiasm with which he has executed his task.... the volume deserves to be a favourite in the boudoir as well as in the library."--_saturday review._ _gordon (j. e. h.)._ _see_ "four lectures on electric induction," "physical treatise on electricity," &c. _gouffé. the royal cookery book._ by jules gouffé; translated and adapted for english use by alphonse gouffé, head pastrycook to her majesty the queen. illustrated with large plates printed in colours. 161 woodcuts, 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 2_l._ 2_s._ ---domestic edition, half-bound, 10_s._ 6_d._ "by far the ablest and most complete work on cookery that has ever been submitted to the gastronomical world."--_pall mall gazette._ _gouraud (mdlle.) four gold pieces._ numerous illustrations. small post 8vo, cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._ _see also_ rose library. _government of m. thiers._ by jules simon. translated from the french, 2 vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra, 32_s._ _great artists._ _see_ biographies. _greek grammar._ see waller. _guizot's history of france._ translated by robert black. super-royal 8vo, very numerous full-page and other illustrations. in 5 vols., cloth extra, gilt, each 24_s._ "it supplies a want which has long been felt, and ought to be in the hands of all students of history."--_times._ ---_masson's school edition._ the history of france from the earliest times to the outbreak of the revolution; abridged from the translation by robert black, m.a., with chronological index, historical and genealogical tables, &c. by professor gustave masson, b.a., assistant master at harrow school. with 24 full-page portraits, and many other illustrations. 1 vol., demy 8vo, 600 pp., cloth extra, 10_s._ 6_d._ _guizot's history of england._ in 3 vols. of about 500 pp. each, containing 60 to 70 full-page and other illustrations, cloth extra, gilt, 24_s._ each. "for luxury of typography, plainness of print, and beauty of illustration, these volumes, of which but one has as yet appeared in english, will hold their own against any production of an age so luxurious as our own in everything, typography not excepted."--_times._ _guyon (mde.) life._ by upham. 6th edition, crown 8vo, 6_s._ _handbook to the charities of london._ _see_ low's. ---_of embroidery_; _which see_. ---_to the principal schools of england._ _see_ practical. _half-hours of blind man's holiday; or, summer and winter sketches in black & white._ by w. w. fenn. 2 vols., cr. 8vo, 24_s._ _half-length portraits._ short studies of notable persons. by j. hain friswell. small post 8vo, 6_s._; smaller edition, 2_s._ 6_d._ _hall (w. w.) how to live long; or, 1408 health maxims, physical, mental, and moral._ by w. w. hall, a.m., m.d. small post 8vo, cloth, 2_s._ second edition. _hans brinker; or, the silver skates._ _see_ dodge. _have i a vote?_ a handy book for the use of the people, on the qualifications conferring the right of voting at county and borough parliamentary elections. with forms and notes. by t. h. lewis, b.a., ll.b. paper, 6_d._ _heart of africa._ three years' travels and adventures in the unexplored regions of central africa, from 1868 to 1871. by dr. georg schweinfurth. numerous illustrations, and large map. 2 vols., crown 8vo, cloth, 15_s._ _heath (francis george)._ _see_ "fern world," "fern paradise," "our woodland trees," "trees and ferns;" "gilpin's forest scenery," "burnham beeches," "sylvan spring," &c. _heber's (bishop) illustrated edition of hymns._ with upwards of 100 beautiful engravings. small 4to, handsomely bound, 7_s._ 6_d._ morocco, 18_s._ 6_d._ and 21_s._ an entirely new edition. _hector servadac._ _see_ verne. 10_s._ 6_d._ and 5_s._ _heir of kilfinnan (the)._ new story by w. h. g. kingston, author of "snow shoes and canoes," "with axe and rifle," &c. with illustrations. cloth, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._ _history and handbook of photography._ translated from the french of gaston tissandier. edited by j. thomson. imperial 16mo, over 300 pages, 70 woodcuts, and specimens of prints by the best permanent processes. second edition, with an appendix by the late mr. henry fox talbot. cloth extra, 6_s._ _history of a crime (the); deposition of an eye-witness._ by victor hugo. 4 vols., crown 8vo, 42_s._ cheap edition, 1 vol., 6_s._ ---_england._ _see_ guizot. ---_france._ _see_ guizot. ---_of russia._ _see_ rambaud. ---_merchant shipping._ _see_ lindsay. ---_united states._ _see_ bryant. ---_ireland._ standish o'grady. vols. i. and ii., 7_s._ 6_d._ each. ---_american literature._ by m. c. tyler. vols. i. and ii., 2 vols, 8vo, 24_s._ _history and principles of weaving by hand and by power._ with several hundred illustrations. by alfred barlow. royal 8vo, cloth extra, 1_l._ 5_s._ second edition. _hitherto._ by the author of "the gayworthys." new edition, cloth extra, 3_s._ 6_d._ also, in rose library, 2 vols., 2_s._ _home of the eddas._ by c. g. lock. demy 8vo, cloth, 16_s._ _how to live long._ _see_ hall. _how to get strong and how to stay so._ by william blaikie. a manual of rational, physical, gymnastic, and other exercises. with illustrations, small post 8vo, 5_s._ "worthy of every one's attention, whether old or young."--_graphic._ _hugo (victor) "ninety-three."_ illustrated. crown 8vo, 6_s._ ---_toilers of the sea._ crown 8vo. illustrated, 6_s._; fancy boards, 2_s._; cloth, 2_s._ 6_d._; on large paper with all the original illustrations, 10_s._ 6_d._ ----. _see_ "history of a crime." _hundred greatest men (the)._ 8 vols., containing 15 to 20 portraits each, 21_s._ each. see below. "messrs. sampson low & co. are about to issue an important 'international' work, entitled, 'the hundred greatest men;' being the lives and portraits of the 100 greatest men of history, divided into eight classes, each class to form a monthly quarto volume. the introductions to the volumes are to be written by recognized authorities on the different subjects, the english contributors being dean stanley, mr. matthew arnold, mr. froude, and professor max müller: in germany, professor helmholtz; in france, mm. taine and renan; and in america, mr. emerson. the portraits are to be reproductions from fine and rare steel engravings."--_academy._ _hygiene and public health (a treatise on)._ edited by a. h. buck, m.d. illustrated by numerous wood engravings. in 2 royal 8vo vols., cloth, one guinea each. _hymnal companion to book of common prayer._ _see_ bickersteth. _illustrated text-books of art-education._ a series of monthly volumes preparing for publication. edited by edward j. poynter, r.a., director for art, science and art department. _the first volumes, large crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each, will be issued in the following divisions:--_ painting. classic and italian. german, flemish, and dutch. french and spanish. english and american. architecture. classic and early christian. gothic, renaissance, & modern. sculpture. classic and oriental. renaissance and modern. ornament. decoration in colour. architectural ornament. _illustrations of china and its people._ by j. thompson, f.r.g.s. four volumes, imperial 4to, each 3_l._ 3_s._ _in my indian garden._ by phil robinson. with a preface by edwin arnold, m.a., c.s.i., &c. crown 8vo, limp cloth, 3_s._ 6_d._ _involuntary voyage (an)._ showing how a frenchman who abhorred the sea was most unwillingly and by a series of accidents driven round the world. numerous illustrations. square crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._ _irish bar._ comprising anecdotes, bon-mots, and biographical sketches of the bench and bar of ireland. by j. roderick o'flanagan, barrister-at-law. crown 8vo, 12_s._ second edition. _jack and jill._ by miss alcott. small post 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, 5_s._ _jacquemart (a.) history of the ceramic art._ by albert jacquemart. with 200 woodcuts, 12 steel-plate engravings, and 1000 marks and monograms. translated by mrs. bury palliser. super-royal 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 28_s._ _jimmy's cruise in the pinafore. see_ alcott. _kafirland: a ten months' campaign._ by frank n. streatfield, resident magistrate in kaffraria, and commandant of native levies during the kaffir war of 1878. crown 8vo, cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._ _keble autograph birthday book (the)._ containing on each left-hand page the date and a selected verse from keble's hymns. imperial 8vo, with 12 floral chromos, ornamental binding, gilt edges, 15_s._ _khedive's egypt (the); or, the old house of bondage under new masters._ by edwin de leon. illustrated. demy 8vo, 8_s._ 6_d._ _king's rifle (the): from the atlantic to the indian ocean; across unknown countries; discovery of the great zambesi affluents, &c._ by major serpa pinto. with 24 full-page and about 100 smaller illustrations, 13 small maps, and 1 large one. demy 8vo. _kingston (w. h. g.)._ _see_ "snow-shoes." ---_child of the cavern._ ---_two supercargoes._ ---_with axe and rifle._ ---_begum's fortune._ ---_heir of kilfinnan._ ---_dick cheveley._ _lady silverdale's sweetheart._ 6_s._ _see_ black. _lenten meditations._ in two series, each complete in itself. by the rev. claude bosanquet, author of "blossoms from the king's garden." 16mo, cloth, first series, 1_s._ 6_d._; second series, 2_s._ _lentils._ _see_ "food for the people." _liesegang (dr. paul e.) a manual of the carbon process of photography._ demy 8vo, half-bound, with illustrations, 4_s._ _life and letters of the honourable charles sumner (the)._ 2 vols., royal 8vo, cloth. second edition, 36_s._ _lindsay (w. s.) history of merchant shipping and ancient commerce._ over 150 illustrations, maps and charts. in 4 vols., demy 8vo, cloth extra. vols. 1 and 2, 21_s._; vols. 3 and 4, 24_s._ each. _lion jack: a story of perilous adventures amongst wild men and beasts._ showing how menageries are made. by p. t. barnum. with illustrations. crown 8vo, cloth extra, price 6_s._ _little king; or, the taming of a young russian count._ by s. blandy. 64 illustrations. crown 8vo, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._; plainer binding, 5_s._ _little mercy; or, for better for worse._ by maude jeanne franc, author of "marian," "vermont vale," &c., &c. small post 8vo, cloth extra, 4_s._ second edition. _long (col. c. chaillé) central africa._ naked truths of naked people: an account of expeditions to lake victoria nyanza and the mabraka niam-niam. demy 8vo, numerous illustrations, 18_s._ _lost sir massingberd._ new edition, crown 8vo, boards, coloured wrapper, 2_s._ _low's german series--_ 1. ~the illustrated german primer.~ being the easiest introduction to the study of german for all beginners, 1_s._ 2. ~the children's own german book.~ a selection of amusing and instructive stories in prose. edited by dr. a. l. meissner. small post 8vo, cloth, 1_s._ 6_d._ 3. ~the first german reader, for children from ten to fourteen.~ edited by dr. a. l. meissner, small post 8vo, cloth, 1_s._ 6_d._ 4. ~the second german reader.~ edited by dr. a. l. meissner. small post 8vo, cloth, 1_s._ 6_d._ _buchheim's deutsche prosa. two volumes, sold separately:--_ 5. ~schiller's prosa.~ containing selections from the prose works of schiller, with notes for english students. by dr. buchheim, small post 8vo, 2_s._ 6_d._ 6. ~goethe's prosa.~ selections from the prose works of goethe, with notes for english students. by dr. buchheim. small post 8vo, 3_s._ 6_d._ _low's international series of toy books._ 6_d._ each; or mounted on linen, 1_s._ 1. ~little fred and his fiddle~, from asbjörnsen's "norwegian fairy tales." 2. ~the lad and the north wind~, ditto. 3. ~the pancake~, ditto. _low's standard library of travel and adventure._ crown 8vo, bound uniformly in cloth extra, price 7_s._ 6_d._ 1. ~the great lone land.~ by major w. f. butler, c.b. 2. ~the wild north land.~ by major w. f. butler, c.b. 3. ~how i found livingstone.~ by h. m. stanley. 4. ~the threshold of the unknown region.~ by c. r. markham. (4th edition, with additional chapters, 10_s._ 6_d._) 5. ~a whaling cruise to baffin's bay and the gulf of boothia.~ by a. h. markham. 6. ~campaigning on the oxus.~ by j. a. macgahan. 7. ~akim-foo: the history of a failure.~ by major w. f. butler, c.b. 8. ~ocean to ocean.~ by the rev. george m. grant. with illustrations. 9. ~cruise of the challenger.~ by w. j. j. spry, r.n. 10. ~schweinfurth's heart of africa.~ 2 vols., 15_s._ 11. ~through the dark continent.~ by h. m. stanley. 1 vol., 12_s._ 6,_d._ _low's standard novels._ crown 8vo, 6_s._ each, cloth extra. ~my lady greensleeves.~ by helen mathers, authoress of "comin' through the rye," "cherry ripe," &c. ~three feathers.~ by william black. ~a daughter of heth.~ 13th edition. by w. black. with frontispiece by f. walker, a.r.a. ~kilmeny.~ a novel. by w. black. ~in silk attire.~ by w. black. ~lady silverdale's sweetheart.~ by w. black. ~history of a crime~: the story of the coup d'état. by victor hugo. ~alice lorraine.~ by r. d. blackmore. ~lorna doone.~ by r. d. blackmore. 8th edition. ~cradock nowell.~ by r. d. blackmore. ~clara vaughan.~ by r. d. blackmore. ~cripps the carrier.~ by r. d. blackmore. ~erema; or my father's sin.~ by r. d. blackmore. ~innocent.~ by mrs. oliphant. eight illustrations. ~work.~ a story of experience. by louisa m. alcott. illustrations. _see also_ rose library. ~the afghan knife.~ by r. a. sterndale, author of "seonee." ~a french heiress in her own chateau.~ by the author of "one only," "constantia," &c. six illustrations. ~ninety-three.~ by victor hugo. numerous illustrations. ~my wife and i.~ by mrs. beecher stowe. ~wreck of the grosvenor.~ by w. clark russell. ~elinor dryden.~ by mrs. macquoid. ~diane.~ by mrs. macquoid. ~poganuc people, their loves and lives.~ by mrs. beecher stowe. ~a golden sorrow.~ by mrs. cashel hoey. _low's handbook to the charities of london._ edited and revised to date by c. mackeson, f.s.s., editor of "a guide to the churches of london and its suburbs," &c. 1_s._ _macgahan (j. a.) campaigning on the oxus, and the fall of khiva._ with map and numerous illustrations, 4th edition, small post 8vo, cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._ _macgregor (john) "rob roy" on the baltic._ 3rd edition, small post 8vo, 2_s._ 6_d._ ---_a thousand miles in the "rob roy" canoe._ 11th edition, small post 8vo, 2_s._ 6_d._ _macgregor (john) description of the "rob roy" canoe_, with plans, &c., 1_s._ ---_the voyage alone in the yawl "rob roy."_ new edition, thoroughly revised, with additions, small post 8vo, 5_s._; boards, 2_s._ 6_d._ _mackenzie (d). the flooding of the sahara._ by donald mackenzie. 8vo, cloth extra, with illustrations, 10_s._ 6_d._ _macquoid_ (_mrs._) _elinor dryden._ crown 8vo, cloth, 6_s._ ---_diane._ crown 8vo, 6_s._ _magazine (illustrated) for young people._ _see_ "st. nicholas." _markham (c. r.) the threshold of the unknown region._ crown 8vo, with four maps, 4th edition. cloth extra, 10_s._ 6_d._ _maury (commander) physical geography of the sea, and its meteorology._ being a reconstruction and enlargement of his former work, with charts and diagrams. new edition, crown 8vo, 6_s._ _memoirs of madame de rémusat, 1802-1808._ by her grandson, m. paul de rémusat, senator. translated by mrs. cashel hoey and mr. john lillie. 4th edition, cloth extra. this work was written by madame de rémusat during the time she was living on the most intimate terms with the empress josephine, and is full of revelations respecting the private life of bonaparte, and of men and politics of the first years of the century. revelations which have already created a great sensation in paris. 8vo, 2 vols. 32_s._ _men of mark: a gallery of contemporary portraits of the most eminent men of the day taken from life_, especially for this publication, price 1_s._ 6_d._ monthly. vols. i., ii., iii., and iv., handsomely bound, cloth, gilt edges, 25_s._ each. _michael strogoff._ 10_s._ 6_d._ and 5_s._ _see_ verne. _mitford (miss)._ _see_ "our village." _montaigne's essays._ _see_ "gentle life series." _my brother jack; or, the story of whatd'yecallem._ written by himself. from the french of alphonse daudet. illustrated by p. philippoteaux. imperial 16mo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._; plainer binding, 5_s._ _my lady greensleeves._ by helen mathers, authoress of "comin' through the rye," "cherry ripe," &c. 1 vol. edition, crown 8vo, cloth, 6_s._ _my rambles in the new world._ by lucien biart, author of "the adventures of a young naturalist." numerous full-page illustrations. crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._; plainer binding, 5_s._ _mysterious island._ by jules verne. 3 vols., imperial 16mo. 150 illustrations, cloth gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._ each; elaborately bound, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._ each. cheap edition, with some of the illustrations, cloth, gilt, 2_s._; paper, 1_s._ each. _nares (sir g. s., k.c.b.) narrative of a voyage to the polar sea during 1875-76, in h.m.'s ships "alert" and "discovery."_ by captain sir g. s. nares, r.n., k.c.b., f.r.s. published by permission of the lords commissioners of the admiralty. with notes on the natural history, edited by h. w. feilden, f.g.s., c.m.z.s., f.r.g.s., naturalist to the expedition. two volumes, demy 8vo, with numerous woodcut illustrations, photographs, &c. 4th edition, 2_l._ 2_s._ _national music of the world._ by the late henry f. chorley. edited by h. g. hewlett. crown 8vo, cloth, 8_s._ 6_d._ "what i have to offer are not a few impressions, scrambled together in the haste of the moment, but are the result of many years of comparison and experience."--_from the author's "prelude."_ _new child's play (a)._ sixteen drawings by e. v. b. beautifully printed in colours, 4to, cloth extra, 12_s._ 6_d._ _new guinea (a few months in)._ by octavius c. stone, f.r.g.s. with numerous illustrations from the author's own drawings. crown 8vo, cloth, 12_s._ _new ireland._ by a. m. sullivan, m.p. for louth. 2 vols., demy 8vo, 30_s._ cheaper edition, 1 vol., crown 8vo, 8_s._ 6_d._ _new novels._ crown 8vo, cloth, 10_s._ 6_d._ per vol.:- ~mary anerley.~ by r. d. blackmore, author of "lorna doone," &c. 3 vols. ~the sisters.~ by g. ebers, author of "an egyptian princess." 2 vols., 16mo, 2_s._ each. ~countess daphne.~ by rita, authoress of "vivienne" and "like dian's kiss." 3 vols. ~sunrise.~ by w. black. in 15 monthly parts, 1_s._ each. ~wait a year.~ by harriet bowra, authoress of "a young wife's story." 3 vols. ~sarah de beranger.~ by jean ingelow. 3 vols. ~the braes of yarrow.~ by c. gibbon. 3 vols. ~elaine's story.~ by maud sheridan. 2 vols. ~prince fortune and his friends.~ 3 vols. _noble words and noble deeds._ translated from the french of e. muller, by dora leigh. containing many full-page illustrations by philippoteaux. square imperial 16mo, cloth extra, 7_s._ 6_d._ _north american review (the)._ monthly, price 2_s._ 6_d._ _notes on fish and fishing._ by the rev. j. j. manley, m.a. with illustrations, crown 8vo, cloth extra, leatherette binding, 10_s._ 6_d._ _nursery playmates (prince of)._ 217 coloured pictures for children by eminent artists. folio, in coloured boards, 6_s._ _oberammergau passion play._ _see_ "art in the mountains." _ocean to ocean: sandford fleming's expedition through canada in 1872._ by the rev. george m. grant. with illustrations. revised and enlarged edition, crown 8vo, cloth, 7_s._ 6_d._ _old-fashioned girl._ _see_ alcott. _oliphant (mrs.) innocent._ a tale of modern life. by mrs. oliphant, author of "the chronicles of carlingford," &c., &c. with eight full-page illustrations, small post 8vo, cloth extra, 6_s._ _on horseback through asia minor._ by capt. fred burnaby, royal horse guards, author of "a ride to khiva." 2 vols., 8vo, with three maps and portrait of author, 6th edition, 38_s._; cheaper edition, crown 8vo, 10_s._ 6_d._ _our little ones in heaven._ edited by the rev. h. robbins. with frontispiece after sir joshua reynolds. fcap., cloth extra, new edition--the 3rd, with illustrations, 5_s._ _our village._ by mary russell mitford. illustrated with frontispiece steel engraving, and 12 full-page and 157 smaller cuts of figure subjects and scenes. crown 4to, cloth, gilt edges, 21_s._ _our woodland trees._ by f. g. heath. large post 8vo, cloth, gilt edges, uniform with "fern world" and "fern paradise," by the same author. 8 coloured plates (showing leaves of every british tree) and 20 woodcuts, cloth, gilt edges, 12_s._ 6_d._ third edition. 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cloth, gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._ 25. ~hans brinker; or, the silver skates.~ 26. ~lowell's my study window.~ 27. ~holmes (o. w.) the guardian angel.~ 28. ~warner (c. d.) my summer in a garden.~ 29. ~hitherto.~ by the author of "the gayworthys." 2 vols., 1_s._ each. 30. ~helen's babies.~ by their latest victim. 31. ~the barton experiment.~ by the author of "helen's babies." 32. ~dred.~ by mrs. beecher stowe. double vol., 2_s._ cloth, gilt, 3_s._ 6_d._ 33. ~warner (c. d.) in the wilderness.~ 34. ~six to one.~ a seaside story. _russell (w. h., ll.d.) the tour of the prince of wales in india._ by w. h. russell, ll.d. fully illustrated by sydney p. hall, m.a. super-royal 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 52_s._ 6_d_,; large paper edition, 84_s._ _sancta christina: a story of the first century._ by eleanor e. orlebar. with a preface by the bishop of winchester. small post 8vo, cloth extra, 5_s._ _scientific memoirs: being experimental contributions to a knowledge of radiant energy._ by john william draper, m.d., ll.d., author of "a treatise on human physiology," &c. with steel portrait of the author. demy 8vo, cloth, 473 pages, 14_s._ _scott (sir g. gilbert.)_ _see_ "autobiography." _sea-gull rock._ by jules sandeau, of the french academy. royal 16mo, with 79 illustrations, cloth extra, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._ cheaper edition, cloth gilt, 2_s._ 6_d._ _see also_ rose library. _seonee: sporting in the satpura range of central india, and in the valley of the nerbudda._ by r. a. sterndale, f.r.g.s. 8vo, with numerous illustrations, 21_s._ _the serpent charmer: a tale of the indian mutiny._ by louis rousselet, author of "india and its native princes." numerous illustrations. crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges, 7_s._ 6_d._; 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"chancellor" |} | || | 1_s._ each. | | || | martin paz | 7 6 | 3 6 || 2 0 | 1 0 | | || | the mysterious |} 22 6 | 10 6 || 6 0 | 3 0 island, 3 vols.:|} | || | vol. i. |} 7 6 | 3 6 || 2 0 | 1 0 dropped from|} | || | the clouds |} | || | vol. ii. |} 7 6 | 3 6 || 2 0 | 1 0 abandoned |} | || | vol. iii. |} 7 6 | 3 6 || 2 0 | 1 0 secret of |} | || | the island |} | || | | | || | the child of the|} 7 6 | 3 6 || | cavern |} | || | | | || | the begum's |} 7 6 | || | fortune |} | || | | | || | the tribulations|} 7 6 | || | of a chinaman |} | || | +===============+========+========++===========+=============+ celebrated travels and travellers. 3 vols. demy 8vo, 600 pp., upwards of 100 full-page illustrations, 12_s._ 6_d._; gilt edges, 14_s._ each:- (1) the exploration of the world. (2) the great navigators of the eighteenth century. (3) the explorers of the nineteenth century. 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[illustration: greece, turkey, _part of_ russia & poland.] incidents of travel in greece, turkey, russia and poland. by the author of "incidents of travel in egypt, arabia petræa, and the holy land." with a map and engravings. in two volumes. vol. ii. seventh edition. new york: harper & brothers, publishers, 329 & 331 pearl street, franklin square. 1853. entered, according to act of congress, in the year 1838, by harper & brothers, in the clerk's office of the southern district of new york. contents of the second volume. chapter i. page choice of a conveyance.--hiring a servant.--another american.--beginning of troubles.--a bivouac.--russian jews.--the steppes of russia.--a _traveller's_ story.--approach to chioff.--how to get rid of a servant.--history of chioff. 7 chapter ii. a lucky encounter.--church of the catacombs.--a visit to the saints.--a tender parting.--pilgrims.--rough treatment.--a scene of starvation.--russian serfs.--devotion of the serfs.--approach to moscow. 28 chapter iii. moscow.--a severe operation.--an exile by accident.--meeting with an emigré.--a civil stranger.--a spy.--the kremlin.--sepulchres of the czars.--the great bell.--the great gun.--precious relics. 45 chapter iv. the drosky.--salle des nobles.--russian gaming.--gastronomy.--pedroski.--a sunday in moscow.--a gipsy belle.--tea drinking.--the emperor's garden.--retrospective. 67 chapter v. getting a passport.--parting with the marquis.--the language of signs.--a loquacious traveller.--from moscow to st. petersburgh.--the wolga.--novogorod.--newski perspective.--an unfortunate mistake.--northern twilight. 85 chapter vi. police requisites.--the russian capital.--equestrian statue of peter the great.--the alexandrian column.--architectural wonders.--the summer islands.--a perilous achievement.--origin of st. petersburgh.--tombs of dead monarchs.--origin of the russian navy. 97 chapter vii. a carroty pole.--the winter palace.--importance of a hat.--an artificial mine.--remains of a huge monster.--peter the great's workshop.--the greek religion.--tomb of a hero.--a saint militant.--another love affair.--the hermitage.--the winter and summer gardens. 118 chapter viii. an imperial fête.--nicolas of russia.--varied splendours.--a soliloquy.--house of peter the great.--a boatrace.--czarskoselo.--the amber chamber.--catharine ii.--the emperor alexander. 140 chapter ix. the soldier's reward.--review of the russian army.--american cannibals.--palace of potemkin.--palace of the grand-duke michael.--equipments for travelling.--rough riding.--poland.--vitepsk.--napoleon in poland.--the disastrous retreat.--passage of the berezina. 154 chapter x. travel by night.--a rencounter.--a traveller's message.--lithuania.--poverty of the country.--agricultural implements.--minsk.--polish jews.--a coin of freedom.--riding in a basket.--brezc.--the bug.--a searching operation.--women labourers.--warsaw. 181 chapter xi. warsaw.--a polish doctor.--battle of grokow.--the outbreak.--the fatal issue.--present condition of poland.--polish exiles.--aspect of warsaw.--traits of the poles. 199 chapter xii. religion of poland.--sunday in warsaw.--baptized jews.--palaces of the polish kings.--sobieski.--field of vola.--wreck of a warrior.--the poles in america.--a polish lady.--troubles of a passport.--departure from warsaw.--an official rachel.--a mysterious visiter. 215 chapter xiii. friendly solicitude.--raddom.--symptoms of a difficulty.--a court of inquisition.--showing a proper spirit.--troubles thickening.--approaching the climax.--woman's influence.--the finale.--utility of the classics.--another latinist.--a lucky accident.--arrival at cracow. 235 chapter xiv. cracow.--casimir the great.--kosciusko.--tombs of the polish kings.--a polish heroine.--last words of a king.--a hero in decay.--the salt-mines of cracow.--the descent.--the mines.--underground meditations.--the farewell. 254 incidents of travel in greece, turkey, russia, and poland. chapter i. choice of a conveyance.--hiring a servant.--another american.--beginning of troubles.--a bivouac.--russian jews.--the steppes of russia.--a _traveller's_ story.--approach to chioff.--how to get rid of a servant.--history of chioff. i had before me a journey of nearly two thousand miles, through a country more than half barbarous, and entirely destitute of all accommodation for travellers. southern russia was the scythia of darius, "savage from the remotest time." "all the way," says an old traveller, "i never came in a house, but lodged in the wilderness by the river side, and carried provisions by the way, for there be small succour in those parts;" and we were advised that a century had made but little change in the interior of the empire. there were no public conveyances, and we had our choice of three modes of travelling; first, by a jew's wagon, in which the traveller stretches out his bed, and is trundled along like a bale of goods, always with the same horses, and therefore, of necessity, making slow progress; secondly, the char de poste, a mere box of wood on four wheels, with straw in the bottom; very fast, but to be changed always with the posthorses; and, thirdly, posting with our own carriage. we did not hesitate long in choosing the last, and bought a carriage, fortunately a good one, a large calêche which an italian nobleman had had made for his own use in travelling on the continent, and which he now sold, not because he did not want it, but because he wanted money more. next we procured a podoroshni, under which, "by order of his majesty nicolas the first, autocrat of all the russias, from odessa to moscow and petersburgh, all the postoffices were commanded to give ---and ----, with their servant, four horses with their drivers, at the price fixed by law." besides this, it was necessary to give security that we left no debts behind us; and if mr. ralli undertakes for all americans the same obligation he did for me, it may happen that his office of consul will be no sinecure. next, and this was no trifling matter, we got our passports arranged; the russian ambassador at constantinople, by-the-way, had given me a new passport in russian, and my companion, that he might travel with the advantages of rank and title, got himself made "noble" by an extra stroke of his consul's pen. the last thing was to engage a servant. we had plenty of applications, but, as very few talked any language we understood, we had not much choice, one, a german, a capital fellow, was exactly the man we wanted, only he could not speak a word of russian, which was the principal qualification we required in a servant. at length came a frenchman, with an unusual proportion of whiskers and mustaches, and one of the worst of the desperate emigrés whom the french revolution, or, rather, the restoration, sent roaming in foreign lands. he had naturally a most unprepossessing physiognomy, and this was heightened by a sabre-cut which had knocked out several of his teeth, and left a huge gash in his cheek and lip, and, moreover, made him speak very unintelligibly. when i asked him if he was a frenchman, he drew himself up with great dignity, and replied, "monsieur je suis _parisien_." his appearance was a gross libel upon the parisians; but, as we could get no one else, we took him upon little recommendation the day before our departure, and, during the same day, threatened half a dozen times to discharge him. the police regulation, obliging him to pay his debts before leaving odessa, he seemed to consider peculiarly hard; and, all the time he was with us, kept referring to his having been obliged to fritter away thirty or forty rubles before he could leave. we ought to have furnished ourselves with provisions for the whole road to moscow, and even cooking utensils; but we neglected it, and carried with us only tea and sugar, a tin teapot, two tin cups, two tin plates, two knives and forks, and some bologna sausages, trusting, like napoleon when he invaded russia, to make up the rest by foraging. before beginning our journey we had a foretaste of the difficulty of travelling in russia. we had ordered posthorses three times, and had sent for them morning and evening, and received for answer that there were none in. at the third disappointment, our own consul being out of town, my friend the spanish consul went with me to the director of the post, and found that during the time in which they had told us they had no horses, they had sent out more than a hundred. instead of taxing them with their rascality, he talked the matter over very politely, paid the price of the horses, gave them a bonus of ten rubles, and obtained a promise by all the saints in the russian calendar for daylight the next morning. the next morning at eight o'clock the horses came; four shaggy, wild-looking little animals, which no comb or brush had ever touched, harnessed with a collar and rope lines. they were tied in with rope traces, all abreast, two on each side the pole, and a postillion with a low wool cap, sheepskin coat and trousers, the woolly side next the skin, who would make an english whip stare, mounted the box. henri followed, and my companion and myself took our seats within. the day before we had a positive quarrel upon a point unnecessary here to mention, in which i thought and still think he acted wrong, and the dispute had run so high that i told him i regretted exceedingly having made arrangements for travelling with him, and proposed even then to part company; he objected, and as we had purchased a carriage jointly, and particularly as our passports were prepared, our podoroshni made out, and servant hired in our joint names, i was fain to go on; and in this inauspicious humour toward each other we set out for a journey of nearly two thousand miles, through a wild and desolate country, among a half-civilized people, whose language we could not understand, and with a servant whom we distrusted and disliked. in spite of all this, however, i felt a high degree of excitement in starting for the capital of russia; and i will do my companion the justice to say that he had been always ready to receive my advances, and to do more than meet me half way, which i afterward learned was from an apprehension of the taunts of his companions, who, not satisfied with getting rid of him, had constantly told him that it was impossible for an englishman and an american to travel together, and that we would quarrel and fight the first day. i believe that i am enough of an american in my feelings, but such an idea had never entered my head; i met many englishmen, and with some formed a friendship which, i trust, will last through life; and among all i met, these two were the only _young_ men so far behind the spirit of the age as to harbour such a thought. i did meet one _old_ gentleman, who, though showing me personally the greatest kindness, could not forget the old grudge. but men cannot be driving their elbows into each other's ribs, comparing money accounts, and consulting upon the hundred little things that present themselves on such a journey, without getting upon at least sociable terms; and before night of the first day the feelings of my companion and myself had undergone a decided change. but to go back to odessa. at the barrier we found a large travelling-carriage stopping the way, in which was my friend mr. ralli, with his lady, on his way to nicolaif; part of his business there was to erect a monument to the memory of a deceased countryman. mr. munroe, son of a former postmaster in washington, is another instance of the success of american adventurers in russia. he went out to st. petersburgh with letters from the russian ambassador and others, and entered the army, the only road to distinction in russia. he accompanied the grand-duke constantine to poland, and was made one of his aiddecamps, and on the death of constantine was transferred to the staff of the emperor nicolas. at the time of the invasion of turkey by the egyptians under ibrahim pacha, mr. munroe held the rank of colonel in the army sent to the aid of the sultan. while the russians were encamped at the foot of the giant's mountain, he visited constantinople, and became acquainted with the american missionaries, who all spoke of him in the highest terms. he was a tall, well-made man, carried himself with a military air, and looked admirably well in the russian uniform. on the withdrawal of the russians from the black sea, mr. munroe was left in some important charge at nicolaif, where he died in the opening of a brilliant career. i heard of him all over russia, particularly from officers of the army; and being often asked if i knew him, regretted to be obliged to answer no. but, though personally unacquainted, as an american i was gratified with the name he had left behind him. to return again to our journey: a few rubles satisfied the officer at the barrier that we were carrying nothing prohibited out of the "free port" of odessa, and we started on a full run, to the great peril of our necks, and, to use the climax of a dutch proclamation, "what's more, of breaking our carriage." in less than an hour we brought up before the door of a posthouse. our wheels were smoking when we stopped. on our hind axle we carried a bucket of grease; half a dozen bipeds in sheepskin whipped off the wheels and greased them; four quadrupeds were tied into the carriage, another bête mounted the box, and we were off again at a full run. my companion undertook to keep a memorandum of expenses, and we put a certain sum in a purse and paid out of it till all was gone. this was a glorious beginning for a journey of two thousand miles. the country possessed little interest, being mostly level, and having but few villages. on the way we saw a natural phenomenon that is common enough in egypt and the east, where the country is level, and known by the name of _mirage_. at a distance it seemed a mere pond or lake, and a drove of cattle passing over it looked as if they were walking in the water. we rolled on rapidly all day, passed through balgarha, kodurseve, and pakra, timing every post and noting every village with a particularity which it would be tedious here to repeat, and at about eight in the evening dashed into the little town of vosnezeuski, one hundred and thirty versts from odessa. here we came to a dead stand. we had begun to entertain some apprehensions from the conduct of monsieur henri, who complained of the hardness of his seat, and asked if we did not intend to stop at night, recommending vosnezeuski as a place where we could sleep in the posthouse; we told him that we had no idea of stopping but to change horses, and should go on immediately. vosnezeuski lies on the river bog, and is the chief town of the cossacks of the bog. this river is navigable for large vessels one hundred and fifty versts; beyond this for three or four hundred versts it is full of cataracts. the cossacks of the bog are a warlike tribe, numbering from six to seven thousand, and living under the same military system with the cossacks of the don. but we fell into worse hands than the cossacks. the postmaster was a jew, and at first told us that he had no horses; then that he had no postillion, but would hire one if we would pay him a certain sum, about four times the amount fixed by law. we had been obliged before to pay a few extra rubles, but this was our first serious difficulty with the postmasters; and, in pursuance of the advice received at odessa, we talked loud, demanded the book which is nailed to the table in every posthouse for travellers to enter complaints in, and threatened the vengeance of count woronzow and every one else, up to the emperor; but the jew laughed in our faces; looked in our podoroshni, where we were described as simple travellers, without any of the formidable array of titles which procure respect in russia; told us we were no grand seigneurs, and that we must either pay the price or wait, as our betters had done before us. we found too soon, as we had been advised at odessa, that these fellows do not know such a character in society as a private gentleman; and if a man is not described in his podoroshni as a count, duke, or lord of some kind, or by some high-sounding military title, they think he is a merchant or manufacturer, or some other common fellow, and pay no regard to him. i relied somewhat upon my companion's having been made "noble," but now found that his consul had been rather chary of his honours, and, by the russian word used, had not put him up high enough to be of any use. we had a long wrangle with the jew, the result of which was, that we told him, probably in no very gentle phrase, that we would wait a month rather than submit to his extortion; and, drawing up the window of our carriage, prepared to pass the night at the door of the posthouse. one of our party was evidently well satisfied with this arrangement, and he was monsieur henri. we had hired him by the day to moscow, and, if we wanted him, to st. petersburgh, and very soon saw that he was perfectly content with the terms, and in no hurry to bring our journey to a close. from the moment of our arrival we suspected him of encouraging the postmaster in his efforts to detain us, and were so much fortified in this opinion by after circumstances, that, when he was about moving toward the house to pass the night within, we peremptorily ordered him to mount the box and sleep there; he refused, we insisted; and as this was the first day out and the first moment of actual collision, and it was all important to decide who should be master, we told him that, if he did not obey, we would discharge him on the spot, at the risk of being obliged to work our way back to odessa alone. and as he felt that, in that case, his debts would have been paid to no purpose, with a string of suppressed sacrés he took his place on the box. our carriage was very comfortable, well lined and stuffed, furnished with pockets and everything necessary for the road, and we expected to sleep in it; but, to tell the truth, we felt rather cheap as we woke during the night, and looked at the shut door of the posthouse, and thought of the jew sleeping away in utter contempt of us, and our only satisfaction was in hearing an occasional groan from henri. that worthy individual did not oversleep himself, nor did he suffer the jew to do so either. early in the morning, without a word on our part, the horses were brought out and harnessed to our vehicle, and the same man whom he professed to have hired expressly for us, and who, no doubt, was the regular postillion, mounted the box. the jew maintained his impudence to the last, coming round to my window, and then asking a few rubles as a douceur. good english would have been thrown away upon him, so i resented it by drawing up the window of the carriage and scowling at him through the glass. many of the postmasters along this road were jews; and i am compelled to say that they were always the greatest scoundrels we had to deal with; and this is placing them on very high ground, for their inferiors in rascality would be accounted masters in any other country. no men can bear a worse character than the russian jews, and i can truly say that i found them all they were represented to be. they are not allowed to come within the territory of old russia. peter the great refused their application to be permitted to approach nearer, smoothing his refusal by telling them that his russian subjects were greater jews than they were themselves. the sagacious old monarch, however, was wrong; for all the money business along the road is in their hands. they keep little taverns, where they sell vodka, a species of brandy, and wring from the peasant all his earnings, lending the money again to the seigneurs at exorbitant interest. many of them are rich, and though alike despised by rich and poor, by the seigneur and the serf, they are proud of exhibiting their wealth, particularly in the jewels and ornaments of their women. at savonka, a little village on the confines of old poland, where we were detained waiting for horses, i saw a young girl about sixteen, a polonese, sitting on the steps of a miserable little tavern, sewing together some ribands, with a headdress of brown cloth, ornamented with gold chains and pearls worth six hundred rubles, diamond earrings worth a hundred, and a necklace of ducats and other dutch gold pieces worth four hundred rubles; altogether, in our currency, worth perhaps two hundred and fifty dollars. here, too, while sitting with henri on the steps of the posthouse, i asked him in a friendly way how he could be such a rascal as to league with the postmaster to detain us at vosnezeuski, whereupon he went at once into french heroics, exclaiming, "monsieur, je suis vieux militaire--j'etais chasseur de napoleon--mon honneur," &c.; that he had never travelled before except with grand seigneurs, and then _in_ the carriage, more as compagnon de voyage than as a servant, and intimated that it was a great condescension to travel with us at all. we passed through several villages, so much alike and so uninteresting in appearance that i did not note even their names. as night approached we had great apprehensions that henri would contrive to make us stop again; but the recollection of his bed on the box served as a lesson, and we rolled on without interruption. at daylight we awoke, and found ourselves upon the wild steppes of russia, forming part of the immense plain which, beginning in northern germany, extends for hundreds of miles, having its surface occasionally diversified by ancient tumuli, and terminates at the long chain of the urals, which, rising like a wall, separates them from the equally vast plains of siberia. the whole of this immense plain was covered with a luxuriant pasture, but bare of trees like our prairie lands, mostly uncultivated, yet everywhere capable of producing the same wheat which now draws to the black sea the vessels of turkey, egypt, and italy, making russia the granary of the levant; and which, within the last year, we have seen brought six thousand miles to our own doors. our road over these steppes was in its natural state; that is to say, a mere track worn by caravans of wagons; there were no fences, and sometimes the route was marked at intervals by heaps of stones, intended as guides when the ground should be covered with snow. i had some anxiety about our carriage; the spokes of the wheels were all strengthened and secured by cords wound tightly around them, and interlaced so as to make a network; but the postillions were so perfectly reckless as to the fate of the carriage, that every crack went through me like a shot. the breaking of a wheel would have left us perfectly helpless in a desolate country, perhaps more than a hundred miles from any place where we could get it repaired. indeed, on the whole road to chioff there was not a single place where we could have any material injury repaired; and the remark of the old traveller is yet emphatically true, that "there be small succour in these parts." [illustration: tumuli on the steppes.] at about nine o'clock we whirled furiously into a little village, and stopped at the door of the posthouse. our wheels were smoking with the rapidity of their revolutions; henri dashed a bucket of water over them to keep them from burning, and half a dozen men whipped them off and greased them. indeed, greasing the wheels is necessary at every post, as otherwise the hubs become dry, so that there is actual danger of their taking fire; and there is a _traveller's_ story told (but i do not vouch for its truth) of a postillion, wagon, and passengers being all burned up on the road to moscow by the ignition of the wheels. the village, like all the others, was built of wood, plastered and whitewashed, with roofs of thatched straw, and the houses were much cleaner than i expected to find them. we got plenty of fresh milk; the bread, which to the traveller in those countries is emphatically the staff of life, we found good everywhere in russia, and at moscow the whitest i ever saw. henri was an enormous feeder, and, wherever we stopped, he disappeared for a moment, and came out with a loaf of bread in his hand and his mustache covered with the froth of quass, a russian small beer. he said he was not always so voracious, but his seat was so hard, and he was so roughly shaken, that eating did him no good. resuming our journey, we met no travellers. occasionally we passed large droves of cattle, but all the way from odessa the principal objects were long trains of wagons, fifty or sixty together, drawn by oxen, and transporting merchandise toward moscow or grain to the black sea. their approach was indicated at a great distance by immense clouds of dust, which gave us timely notice to let down our curtains and raise our glasses. the wagoners were short, ugly-looking fellows, with huge sandy mustaches and beards, black woolly caps, and sheepskin jackets, the wool side next the skin; perhaps, in many cases, transferred warm from the back of one animal to that of the other, where they remained till worn out or eaten up by vermin. they had among them blacksmiths and wheelwrights, and spare wheels, and hammer, and tools, and everything necessary for a journey of several hundred miles. half of them were generally asleep on the top of their loads, and they encamped at night in caravan style, arranging the wagons in a square, building a large fire, and sleeping around it. about midday we saw clouds gathering afar off in the horizon, and soon after the rain began to fall, and we could see it advancing rapidly over the immense level till it broke over our heads, and in a few moments passed off, leaving the ground smoking with exhalations. late in the afternoon we met the travelling equipage of a seigneur returning from moscow to his estate in the country. it consisted of four carriages, with six or eight horses each. the first was a large, stately, and cumbrous vehicle, padded and cushioned, in which, as we passed rapidly by, we caught a glimpse of a corpulent russian on the back seat, with his feet on the front, bolstered all around with pillows and cushions, almost burying every part of him but his face, and looking the very personification of luxurious indulgence; and yet probably, that man had been a soldier, and slept many a night on the bare ground, with no covering but his military cloak. next came another carriage, fitted out in the same luxurious style, with the seigneur's lady and a little girl; then another with nurses and children; then beds, baggage, cooking utensils, and servants, the latter hanging on everywhere about the vehicle, much in the same way with the pots and kettles. altogether, it was an equipment in caravan style, somewhat the same as for a journey in the desert, the traveller carrying with him provision and everything necessary for his comfort, as not expecting to procure anything on the road, nor to sleep under a roof during the whole journey. he stops when he pleases, and his servants prepare his meals, sometimes in the open air, but generally at the posthouse. we had constant difficulties with henri and the postmasters, but, except when detained for an hour or two by these petty tyrants, we rolled on all night, and in the morning again woke upon the same boundless plain. the posthouse was usually in a village, but sometimes stood alone, the only object to be seen on the great plain. before it was always a high square post, with black and white stripes, marking the number of versts from station to station; opposite to this henri dismounted, and presented the podoroshni or imperial order for horses. but the postmasters were high above the laws; every one of them seemed a little autocrat in his own right, holding his appointment rather to prey upon than to serve travellers; and the emperor's government would be but badly administered if his ukases and other high-sounding orders did not carry with them more weight than his podoroshni. the postmasters obeyed it when they pleased, and when they did not, made a new bargain. they always had an excuse; as, for instance, that they had no horses, or were keeping them in reserve for a courier or grand seigneur; but they listened to reason when enforced by rubles, and, as soon as a new bargain was made, half a dozen animals in sheepskin went out on the plain and drove up fifteen or twenty horses, small, rugged, and tough, with long and shaggy manes and tails, which no comb or brush had ever touched, and, diving among them promiscuously, caught four, put on rope headstalls, and tied them to our rope traces. the postillion mounted the box, and shouting and whipping his horses, and sometimes shutting his eyes, started from the post on a full gallop, carried us like the wind, ventre à terre, over the immense plain, sometimes without a rut or any visible mark to guide him, and brought us up all standing in front of the next post. a long delay and a short post, and this was the same over and over again during the whole journey. the time actually consumed in making progress was incredibly short, and i do not know a more beautiful way of getting over the ground than posting in russia with a man of high military rank, who can make the postmasters give him horses immediately on his arrival. as for us, after an infinite deal of vexation and at a ruinous expense, on the morning of the fourth day we were within one post of chioff. here we heard with great satisfaction that a diligence was advertised for moscow, and we determined at once to get rid of carriage, posting, and henri. we took our seats for the last time in the _calêche_ gave the postillion a double allowance of kopeks, and in half an hour saw at a great distance the venerable city of chioff, the ancient capital of russia. it stands at a great height, on the crest of an amphitheatre of hills, which rise abruptly in the middle of an immense plain, apparently thrown up by some wild freak of nature, at once curious, unique, and beautiful. the style of its architecture is admirably calculated to give effect to its peculiar position; and, after a dreary journey over the wild plains of the ukraine, it breaks upon the traveller with all the glittering and gorgeous splendour of an asiatic city. for many centuries it has been regarded as the jerusalem of the north, the sacred and holy city of the russians; and, long before reaching it, its numerous convents and churches, crowning the summit and hanging on the sides of the hill, with their quadrupled domes, and spires, and chains, and crosses, gilded with ducat gold and glittering in the sun, gave the whole city the appearance of golden splendour. the churches and monasteries have one large dome in the centre, with a spire surmounted by a cross, and several smaller domes around it, also with spires and crosses connected by pendant chains, and all gilded so purely that they never tarnish. we drove rapidly to the foot of the hill, and ascended by a long wooden paved road to the heart of the city. during the whole of our last post our interest had been divided between the venerable city and the rogue henri. my companion, who, by-the-way, spoke but little french disliked him from the first. we had long considered him in league with all the jews and postmasters on the road, and had determined under no circumstances to take him farther than chioff; but as we had hired him to moscow, the difficulty was how to get rid of him. he might take it into his head that, if we did not know when we had a good servant, he knew when he had good masters; but he was constantly grumbling about his seat, and calculated upon three or four days' rest at chioff. so, as soon as we drove up to the door of the hotel, we told him to order breakfast and posthorses. he turned round as if he had not fully comprehended us. we repeated the order, and for the first time since he had been with us he showed something like agility in dismounting; fairly threw himself from the box, swore he would not ride another verst that day for a thousand rubles, and discharged us on the spot. we afterward paid him to his entire satisfaction, indemnifying him for the money he had squandered in paying his debts at odessa, and found him more useful at chioff than he had been at any time on the road. indeed, we afterward learned what was rather ludicrous, viz., that he, our pilot and interpreter through the wilderness of russia, knew but little more of russian than we did ourselves. he could ask for posthorses and the ordinary necessaries of life, count money, &c., but could not support a connected conversation, nor speak nor understand a long sentence. this changed our suspicions of his honesty into admiration of his impudence; but, in the mean time, when he discharged us, we should have been rather destitute if it had not been for the servant of a russian traveller, who spoke french, and, taking our direction from him, we mounted a drosky and rode to the office of the diligence, which was situated in the podolsk or lower town, and at which we found ourselves particularly well received by the proprietor. he said that the attempt to run a diligence was discouraging; that he had advertised two weeks, and had not booked a single passenger; but, if he could get two, he was determined to try the experiment. we examined the vehicle, which was very large and convenient, and, satisfied that there was no danger of all the places being taken, we left him until we could make an effort to dispose of our carriage. relieved from all anxiety as to our future movements, we again mounted our drosky. ascending the hill, we passed the fountain where st. vladimir baptized the first russian converts; the spring is held sacred by the christians now, and a column bearing a cross is erected over it, to commemorate the pious act and the ancient sovereignty of chioff. the early history of this city is involved in some obscurity. its name is supposed to be derived from kiovi or kii, a sarmatian word signifying heights or mountains; and its inhabitants, a sarmatian tribe, were denominated kivi or mountaineers. it is known to have been a place of consequence in the fifth century, when the suevi, driven from their settlements on the danube, established themselves here and at novogorod. in the beginning of the tenth century it was the capital and most celebrated and opulent city in russia, or in that part of europe. boleslaus the terrible notched upon its "golden gate" his "miraculous sword," called by the monks "the sword of god," and the poles entered and plundered it of its riches. in the latter part of the same century the capital of russia again fell before the conquering arms of the poles. kiev was at that time the foster-child of constantinople and the eastern empire. the voluptuous greeks had stored it with all the luxuries of asia; the noble architecture of athens was festooned with the gaudy tapestry of lydia, and the rough metal of russian swords embossed with the polished gold of ophir and persia. boleslaus ii., shut up within the "golden gate" of this city of voluptuousness, quaffed the bowl of pleasure till its intoxicating draught degraded all the nobler energies of his nature. his army of warriors followed his example, and slept away month after month on the soft couches of kiev; and in the language of the historian, as if they had eaten of the fabled fruit of the lotos-tree, at length forgot that their houses were without masters, their wives without husbands, and their children without parents. but these tender relations were not in like manner oblivious; and, after seven years of absence, the poles were roused from their trance of pleasure by the tidings of a revolt among the women at home, who, tired of waiting their return, in revenge gave themselves up to the embraces of their slaves. burning under the disgrace, the poles hurried home to wreak their vengeance on wives and paramours; but they met at warsaw a bloody resistance; the women, maddened by despair, urged on their lovers, many of them fighting in person, and seeking out on the battle-field their faithless husbands: an awful warning to married men! for a long time kiev was the prey alternately of the poles, the lithuanians, and the tartars, until in 1686 it was finally ceded by the poles to russia. the city is composed of three distinct quarters; the old, with its polish fortifications, containing the palace of the emperor, and being the court end; the petcherk fortress, built by peter the great, with ditches and high ramparts, and an arsenal capable of containing eighty or a hundred thousand stand of arms; and the podolsk, or business part, situated at the foot of the hill on the banks of the dnieper. it contains thirty thousand inhabitants besides a large military garrison, partly of cossack troops, and one pretty good hotel; but no beds, and none of those soft couches which made the hardy poles sleep away their senses; and though a welcome resting-place for a traveller through the wild plains of russia, it does not now possess any such attraction as to put in peril the faith and duties of husbands. by its position secluded from intercourse with strangers, kiev is still thoroughly a russian city, retaining in full force its asiatic style of architecture; and the old russian, wedded to the manners and customs of his fathers, clings to it as a place which the hand of improvement has not yet reached; among other relics of the olden time, the long beard still flourishes with the same solemn dignity as in the days of peter the great. lying a hundred miles away from the direct road between moscow and the black sea, few european travellers visit it; and though several of them have done so since, perhaps i was the first american who ever passed through it. we passed the morning in riding round to the numerous convents and churches, among which is the church of st. sophia, the oldest in russia, and, if not an exact model of the great st. sophia of constantinople, at least of byzantine design; and toward evening went to the emperor's garden. this garden is more than a mile in length, bounded on one side by the high precipitous bank of the hill, undulating in its surface, and laid out like an english park, with lawn, gravel-walks, and trees; it contains houses of refreshment, arbours or summer-houses, and a summer theatre. at the foot of the hill flows the dnieper, the ancient borysthenes, on which, in former days the descendants of odin and ruric descended to plunder constantinople. two or three sloops were lying, as it were, asleep in the lower town, telling of a still interior country, and beyond was a boundless plain covered with a thick forest of trees. the view from this bank was unique and extraordinary, entirely different from anything i ever saw in natural scenery, and resembling more than anything else a boundless marine prospect. at the entrance of the garden is an open square or table of land overlooking the plain, where, every evening at seven o'clock, the military band plays. the garden is the fashionable promenade, the higher classes resorting to it in carriages and on horseback, and the common people on foot; the display of equipages was not very striking, although there is something stylish in the russian manner of driving four horses, the leaders with very long traces and a postillion; and soldiers and officers, with their splendid uniforms, caps, and plumes, added a brilliant effect. before the music began, all returned from the promenade or drive in the garden, and gathered in the square. it was a beautiful afternoon in june, and the assemblage was unusually large and brilliant; the carriages drew up in a line, the ladies let down the glasses, and the cavaliers dismounted, and talked and flirted with them just as in civilized countries. all chioff was there, and the peasant in his dirty sheepskin jacket, the shopkeeper with his long surtout and beard, the postillion on his horse, the coachman on his box, the dashing soldier, the haughty noble and supercilious lady, touched by the same chord, forgot their temporal distinctions, and listened to the swelling strains of the music till the last notes died away. the whole mass was then in motion, and in a few moments, except by a few stragglers, of whom i was one, the garden was deserted. at about ten o'clock i returned to my hotel. we had no beds, and slept in our cloaks on settees stuffed with straw and covered with leather. we had no coverlets; still, after four days and nights in a carriage, it was a luxury to have plenty of kicking room. chapter ii. a lucky encounter.--church of the catacombs.--a visit to the saints.--a tender parting.--pilgrims.--rough treatment.--a scene of starvation.--russian serfs.--devotion of the serfs.--approach to moscow. early in the morning, while i was standing in the yard of the hotel, chaffering with some jews about the sale of our carriage, an officer in a faded, threadbare uniform, with two or three ribands at his buttonhole and stars sparkling on his breast, came up, and, taking me by the hand, told me, in capital english, that he had just heard of the arrival of two english gentlemen, and had hurried down to see them; that he was a great admirer of the english, and happy to have an opportunity, in the interior of his own country, to show its hospitalities to the natives of the island queen. at the risk of losing the benefit of his attentions, i was obliged to disclaim my supposed english character, and to publish, in the heart of a grinding despotism, that i was a citizen of a free republic. nor did i suffer for my candour; for, by one of those strange vagaries which sometimes happen, we cannot tell how or why, this officer in the service of russia had long looked to america and her republican government as the perfection of an ideal system. he was in chioff only by accident. wounded in the last campaign against the turks, he had taken up his abode at ismail, where, upon his pension and a pittance of his own, he was able to live respectably as a poor officer. with no friends or connexions, and no society at ismail, his head seemed to have run principally upon two things, apparently having no connexion with each other, but intimately connected in his mind, viz., the british possessions in india and the united states of america; and the cord that bound them together was the wide diffusion of the english language by means of these powerful agents. he told me more than i ever knew of the constitution and government of the east india company, and their plan of operations; and, in regard to our own country, his knowledge was astonishing; he knew the names and character, and talked familiarly of all our principal men, from the time of washington to the present day; had read all our standard works, and was far more familiar with those of franklin, irving, &c., than i was; in short, he told me that he had read every american book, pamphlet, or paper he could lay his hands on; and so intimate was his knowledge of detail, that he mentioned chestnut-street by name as one of the principal streets in philadelphia. it may be supposed that i was not sorry to meet such a man in the heart of russia. he devoted himself to us, and seldom left us, except at night, until we left the city. after breakfast, accompanied by our new friend with as unpronounceable a name as the best in russia, we visited the catacombs of the petcherskoi monastery. i have before remarked that chioff is the holy city of the russians, and the crowds of pilgrims we met at every turn in the streets constantly reminded us that this was the great season of the pilgrimage. i was but imperfectly acquainted with the russian character, but in no one particular had i been so ignorant as in regard to their religious impressions. i had seen italian, greek, and turkish devotees, but the russian surpassed them all; and, though deriving their religion from strangers, they exceed the punctilious greeks themselves in the observance of its minutest forms. censurable, indeed, would he be considered who should pass, in city or in highway, the figure of the cross, the image of the virgin, or any of the numerous family of saints, without taking off his hat and making on his breast the sacred sign of the cross; and in a city like chioff, where every turn presents some new object claiming their worship, the eyes of our drosky boy were rapidly turning from one side to the other, and his hand was almost constantly in a quick mechanical motion. the church of the catacombs, or the cathedral of the assumption, attached to the monastery, stands a little out of the city, on the banks of the dnieper. it was founded in ten hundred and seventy-three, and has seven golden domes with golden spires, and chains connecting them. the dome of the belfry, which rises above the hill to the height of about three hundred feet, and above the dnieper to that of five hundred and eighty-six, is considered by the russians a chef d'oeuvre of architecture. it is adorned with doric and ionic columns and corinthian pilasters; the whole interior bears the venerable garb of antiquity, and is richly ornamented with gold, silver, and precious stones and paintings; indeed, it is altogether very far superior to any greek church i had then seen. in the immense catacombs under the monastery lie the unburied bodies of the russian saints, and year after year thousands and tens of thousands come from the wilds of siberia and the confines of tartary to kneel at their feet and pray. in one of the porches of the church we bought wax tapers, and, with a long procession of pilgrims, bareheaded and with lighted tapers in our hands, descended a long wooden staircase to the mouth of the catacomb. on each side along the staircase was ranged a line of kneeling devotees, of the same miserable description i had so often seen about the churches in italy and greece. entering the excavated passages of the catacombs, the roof of which was black from the smoke of candles, we saw on each side, in niches in the walls, and in open coffins, enveloped in wrappers of cloth and silk, ornamented with gold and silver, the bodies of the russian saints. these saints are persons who have led particularly pure and holy lives, and by reason thereof have ascended into heaven, where they are supposed to exercise an influence with the father and son; and their bodies are left unburied that their brethren may come to them for intercession, and, seeing their honours after death, study to imitate them in the purity of their lives. the bodies are laid in open coffins, with the stiffened hands so placed as to receive the kisses of pilgrims, and on their breasts are written their names, and sometimes a history of their virtuous actions. but we saw there other and worse things than these, monuments of wild and desperate fanaticism; for besides the bodies of saints who had died at god's appointed time, in one passage is a range of small windows, where men had with their own hands built themselves in with stones against the wall, leaving open only a small hole by which to receive their food; and died with the impious thought that they were doing their maker good service. these little windows close their dwelling and their tomb; and the devoted russian, while he kneels before them, believes that their unnatural death has purchased for them everlasting life, and place and power among the spirits of the blessed. we wandered a long time in this extraordinary burial-place, everywhere strewed with the kneeling figures of praying pilgrims. at every turn we saw hundreds from the farthest parts of the immense empire of russia; perhaps at that time more than three thousand were wandering in these sepulchral chambers. the last scene i shall never forget. more than a hundred were assembled in a little chapel, around which were arranged the bodies of men who had died in peculiar sanctity. all were kneeling on the rocky floor, an old priest, with a long white beard streaming down his breast, was in the midst of them, and all there, even to the little children, were listening with rapt attention, as if he were preaching to them matters of eternal moment. there was no hypocrisy or want of faith in that vast sepulchre; surrounded by their sainted dead, they were searching their way to everlasting life, and in all honesty believed that they saw the way before them. we ascended once more to the regions of upper air, and stopped a few moments in the courtyard of the monastery, where the beggar pilgrims were eating the hard bread distributed to them by the monks from the bounty of government. no man seemed more relieved than the major. he was a liberal in religion as well as in politics, but he crossed himself everywhere most devoutly, to avoid, as he said, offending the prejudices of his countrymen, though once he rather scandalized a group of pilgrims by cross-questioning a monk about a new saint, who seemed to be receiving more than a usual share of veneration, and who, he said, had been canonized since he was there last. but there is a time for all things, and nothing is more absolutely fixed by nature's laws than a time for dinner. almost at the first moment of our acquaintance the major had told me of an engraving representing a scene in _new-york_, which was to be found at a second or third rate hotel, and i proposed to him, in compliment to the honest publican who had the good taste to have such a picture in his house, to go there and dine. we went, and in a large room, something like a barroom in our hotels, saw on one of the walls, in a black wooden frame, a gaudy and flaring engraving representing the pulling down of the statue of george the second in the bowling green. the bowling green was associated with my earliest recollections. it had been my playground when a boy; hundreds of times i had climbed over its fence for my ball, and i was one of a band of boys who held on to it long after the corporation invaded our rights. captain cook mentions the effect produced upon his crew by finding at one of the savage islands he visited a silver spoon marked "london;" my feelings were, in a small way, of the same nature. the grouping of the picture was rude and grotesque, the ringleader being a long negro stripped to his trousers, and straining with all his might upon a rope, one end of which was fastened to the head of the statue, and the other tied around his own waist, his white teeth and the whites of his eyes being particularly conspicuous on a heavy ground of black. it was a poor specimen of art, but it was a home scene; we drew up our table opposite the picture, and here, in the very headquarters of despotism, i found a liberal spirit in an officer wearing the uniform of the autocrat, who pledged me in the toast, "success to liberty throughout the world." i had another occupation, which savoured more of home, and served to keep my faculties from rusting; and that was the sale of our carriage. we had made a calculation, and found that it would be cheaper, to say nothing of other advantages, to give it away, and take the diligence to moscow, than go on posting. we accordingly offered it for sale, and every time we returned to the house found a group of jews examining it. the poor thing found no favour in their eyes; they told us that we had been riding in it at peril of our lives; that we might be thankful it had not broken down on the road; and, in short, that it was worth nothing except for old iron, and for that it was worth forty-five rubles, or about _nine dollars_. we could not stand this. it had cost us one hundred and forty less than a week before, was cheap at that, and as good now as when we bought it. on the eve of departure, therefore, we offered it to our landlord for three days' board; but the old turk (he was a jew turned christian, and in his regenerated worse than his natural state) refused our offer, thinking that we would go away and leave it on his hands. but we resolved to burn it first; and while hesitating about offering it to our friend the major, he relieved us from all delicacy by telling us that he did not want it, and had no horses to put to it; to save us from imposition, he would willingly give us the full value, but he was not worth the money. he had, however, a piece of fifty rubles, or about ten dollars, in his pocket, and, if we would take that, he would keep the carriage as a souvenir. we gladly accepted his offer, and had the satisfaction of finding that we had grievously disappointed both the jews and our landlord. in the morning the proprietor of the diligence, learning that we had sold our vehicle, raised the price of places fifty rubles apiece; the major heard of it, and insisted upon our taking back the carriage, when the proprietor took another tone, talked of the expense of sending his huge vehicle with only two passengers, and we listened and assented. we started to accompany him, and just at the door of the hotel saw two runaway horses coming furiously down the street with a drosky, and an officer entangled and dragging on the ground. we picked him up and carried him into the hotel. he was a noble-looking man, who but a few minutes before had attracted my attention by his proud and manly bearing, now a miserable mangled object, his clothes torn, his plume soiled with mud, and his face covered with dust and blood, and, when we left, it was uncertain whether he would live or die. the major accompanied us to the office of the diligence, and our parting was rather tender; he rubbed his mustache on both my cheeks, wrote his name in my memorandum-book, and i gave him my address; he said that our visit had been an interlude relieving the dull monotony of his life; that we were going to new scenes, and would soon forget him, but he would not forget us. nor shall i forget him, although it is not probable that he and i will ever meet again. we took our seats in the diligence for moscow, and set off with an uncommon degree of satisfaction at having got rid of posting and of henri, and, with them, of all our troubles. we had nothing to do, no wrangling with postmasters, no cheating to undergo from jews, and were in that happy state which made the honest hibernian indifferent to an upset or a breakdown; that is to say, we were merely passengers. with great pomp and circumstance we drove through the principal streets, to advise the knickerbockers of chioff of the actual departure of the long-talked-of diligence, the conducteur sounding his trumpet, and the people stopping in the streets and running to the doors to see the extraordinary spectacle. we descended the long wooden road to the river, and crossed the dnieper on a bridge about half a mile long. on the opposite bank i turned for the last time to the sacred city, and i never saw anything more unique and strikingly beautiful than the high, commanding position of "this city on a hill," crowned with its golden cupolas and domes, that reflected the sun with dazzling brightness. for a short distance the country was rather undulating, but soon settled into the regular steppe. we rolled on all day without anything to annoy us or even to interest us, except processions of pilgrims on their way to chioff. they travelled on foot in bands of one or two hundred, men, women, and children, headed by a white-bearded monk, barefooted, and leaning on a staff. during the night i was roused by a loud chant, and, looking out, saw a group of more than a hundred pilgrims gathered round a fire, with an old monk in the midst of them, breaking the stillness of night with songs of devotion; and all the night long, as we rode swiftly by, i saw by the bright moonlight groups of forty, fifty, or a hundred lying by the roadside asleep under the trees. more than fifty thousand pilgrims that year visited the catacombs of kiev, coming from every part of the immense empire of russia, and many from kamschatka and the most distant region of siberia, performing the whole journey on foot, seldom sleeping under a roof, and living upon the precarious charity of the miserable peasants on the road. i have since seen the gathering of pilgrims at jerusalem, and the whole body moving together from the gates of the city to bathe in the jordan, and i have seen the great caravan of forty thousand true believers tracking their desolate way through the deserts of arabia to the tomb of the prophet at mecca; but i remember, as if they were before me now, the groups of russian pilgrims strewed along the road and sleeping under the pale moonlight, the bare earth their bed, the heavens their only covering. in the morning we stopped at a little town, where the posthouse had in front four corinthian columns supporting a balcony. inside, mats were placed against the broken windows, the walls were rough logs, the floor of mud, with pigs and children disputing its possession, and the master and mistress stood in special need of the purifying influence of a russian bath. we brought the teaurn out on the balcony, and had a cow brought up and milked in our presence. after breakfast we lighted our pipes and strolled up the street. at the upper end, an old man in a civil uniform hailed us from the opposite side, and crossed over to meet us; supposing him to be some dignitary disposed to show us the civilities of the town, we waited to receive him with all becoming respect; but, as he approached, were rather startled by the loud tone of his voice and the angry expression of his face, and more so when, as soon as within reach, he gave my pipe-stick a severe rap with his cane, which knocked it out of my mouth, broke the bowl, and scattered the contents on the ground. i picked up the stick, and should, perhaps, have laid it over his head but for his gray hairs; and my companion, seeing him tread out the sparks of fire, recollected that there was a severe penalty in russia against smoking in the streets. the houses are all of wood; whole villages and towns are often burned down at once, and probably the old man had begun by a civil intimation to that effect; but, indignant at my quietly smoking in his face, had used more summary measures. he was in a perfect fury; and calling at the top of his voice to a man up the street, the latter went off with such a suspicious looking-for-a-police-officer movement, that we hurried back to the diligence, which happened to be ready and waiting for us, and started from the town on a full run. that night, in a miserable posthouse in a miserable village, we found an old billiard-table. it seemed strangely out of place, and i had a great curiosity to know how it had found its way there; but it was twelve o'clock, and all were asleep but the postillion. i can give no account of the rest of the night's work. i had a large cushioned seat of the diligence to myself, certainly the softest bed i had yet had in russia; and when i put my feet out of the window, it was so comfortable that i felt myself in some danger of falling into luxurious habits. at daylight we arrived in a large village, the inhabitants of which were not yet stirring, and the streets were strewed with peasants, grim, yellow-bearded fellows, in sheepskin dresses and caps, lying on their backs asleep, each of them with a log of wood under his head for a pillow. i descended from the diligence, and found that the whole village consisted of a single street, with log-houses on each side, having their gable ends in front; the doors were all open, and i looked in and saw men and women with all their clothes on, pigs, sheep, and children strewed about the floor. [illustration: russian village.] in every house was the image of the panagia, or all holy virgin, or the picture of some tutelary saint, the face only visible, the rest covered with a tin frame, with a lamp or taper burning before it; and regularly as the serf rose he prostrated himself and made his orisons at this domestic shrine. about noon we passed the chateau and grounds of a seigneur; belonging to the chateau was a large church standing in a conspicuous situation, with a green dome, surmounted by the greek cross; and round it were the miserable and filthy habitations of his slaves. entering the village, we saw a spectacle of wretchedness and misery seldom surpassed even on the banks of the nile. the whole population was gathered in the streets, in a state of absolute starvation. the miserable serfs had not raised enough to supply themselves with food, and men of all ages, half-grown boys, and little children were prowling the streets or sitting in the doorways, ravenous with hunger, and waiting for the agent to come down from the chateau and distribute among them bread. i had found in russia many interesting subjects of comparison between that country and my own, but it was with deep humiliation i felt that the most odious feature in that despotic government found a parallel in ours. at this day, with the exception of russia, some of the west india islands, and the republic of the united states, every country in the civilized world can respond to the proud boast of the english common law, that the moment a slave sets foot on her soil he is free. i respect the feelings of others and their vested rights, and would be the last to suffer those feelings or those rights to be wantonly violated; but i do not hesitate to say that, abroad, slavery stands as a dark blot upon our national character. there it will not admit of any palliation; it stands in glaring contrast with the spirit of our free institutions; it belies our words and our hearts; and the american who would be most prompt to repel any calumny upon his country withers under this reproach, and writhes with mortification when the taunt is hurled at the otherwise stainless flag of the free republic. i was forcibly struck with a parallel between the white serfs of the north of europe and african bondsmen at home. the russian boor, generally wanting the comforts which are supplied to the negro on our best-ordered plantations, appeared to me to be not less degraded in intellect, character, and personal bearing. indeed, the marks of physical and personal degradation were so strong, that i was insensibly compelled to abandon certain theories not uncommon among my countrymen at home, in regard to the intrinsic superiority of the white race over all others. perhaps, too, this impression was aided by my having previously met with africans of intelligence and capacity, standing upon a footing of perfect equality as soldiers and officers in the greek army and the sultan's. the serfs of russia differ from slaves with us in the important particular that they belong to the soil, and cannot be sold except with the estate; they may change masters, but cannot be torn from their connexions or their birthplace. one sixth of the whole peasantry of russia, amounting to six or seven millions, belong to the crown, and inhabit the imperial demesne, and pay an annual tax. in particular districts, many have been enfranchised, and become burghers and merchants; and the liberal and enlightened policy of the present emperor is diffusing a more general system of melioration among these subjects of his vast empire. the rest of the serfs belong to the nobles, and are the absolute property and subject to the absolute control of their masters, as much as the cattle on their estates. some of the seigneurs possess from seventy to more than a hundred thousand; and their wealth depends upon the skill and management with which the labour of these serfs is employed. sometimes the seigneur sends the most intelligent to petersburgh or moscow to learn some handicraft, and then employs them on his own estates, hires them out, or allows them to exercise their trade on their own account on payment of an annual sum. and sometimes, too, he gives the serf a passport, under which he is protected all over russia, settles in a city, and engages in trade, and very often accumulates enough to ransom himself and his family. indeed, there are many instances of a serf's acquiring a large property, and even rising to eminence. but he is always subject to the control of his master; and i saw at moscow an old mongik who had acquired a very large fortune, but was still a slave. his master's price for his freedom had advanced with his growing wealth, and the poor serf, unable to bring himself to part with his hard earnings, was then rolling in wealth with a collar round his neck; struggling with the inborn spirit of freedom, and hesitating whether to die a beggar or a slave. the russian serf is obliged to work for his master but three days in the week; the other three he may work for himself on a portion of land assigned to him by law on his master's estate. he is never obliged to work on sunday, and every saint's day or fête day of the church is a holyday. this might be supposed to give him an opportunity of elevating his character and condition; but, wanting the spirit of a free agent, and feeling himself the absolute property of another, he labours grudgingly for his master, and for himself barely enough to supply the rudest necessaries of life and pay his tax to the seigneur. a few rise above their condition, but millions labour like beasts of burden, content with bread to put in their mouths, and never even thinking of freedom. a russian nobleman told me that he believed, if the serfs were all free, he could cultivate his estate to better advantage by hired labour; and i have no doubt a dozen connecticut men would cultivate more ground than a hundred russian serfs, allowing their usual non-working days and holydays. they have no interest in the soil, and the desolate and uncultivated wastes of russia show the truth of the judicious reflection of catharine ii., "that agriculture can never flourish in that nation where the husbandman possesses no property." it is from this great body of peasantry that russia recruits her immense standing army, or, in case of invasion, raises in a moment a vast body of soldiers. every person in russia entitled to hold land is known to the government, as well as the number of peasants on his estate; and, upon receiving notice of an imperial order to that effect, the numbers required by the levy are marched forthwith from every part of the empire to the places of rendezvous appointed. it might be asked, what have these men to fight for? they have no country, and are brought up on immense levels, wanting the rocks, rivers, and mountains that inspire local attachments. it is a singular fact, that, with the russian serf, there is always an unbounded love for him who stands at the head of the system of oppression under which they groan, the emperor, whom they regard as their protector against the oppression of their immediate masters; but to whatever cause it may be ascribed, whether inability to estimate the value of any change in their condition, or a feeling of actual love for the soil on which they were born, during the invasion of napoleon the serfs of russia presented a noble spectacle; and the spirit of devotion which animated the corps of ten thousand in the north extended to the utmost bounds of the empire. they received orders to march from st. petersburgh to meet the advance of the french army; the emperor reviewed them, and is said to have shed tears at their departure. arrived at the place appointed, witgenstein ordered them to fall back to a certain point, but they answered "no; the last promise we made the emperor our father was, that we would never fly before the enemy, and we keep our word." eight thousand of their number died on the spot; and the spirit which animated them fired the serfs throughout the whole empire. the scholar may sneer, but i defy him to point to a nobler page in grecian or roman history. i shall make amends for this long discussion by hurrying on to moscow. we rode hundreds of miles without meeting a hill; the country was bare of trees, and almost everywhere presenting the same appearance. we saw the first disk of the sun peeping out of the earth, watched it while soaring on its daily round, and, without a bush to obstruct the view, saw it sink below the horizon; and woke up at all times of night and saw the stars, "rolling like living cars of light for gods to journey by." the principal and only large towns on our road were orel and toula, the former containing a population of four or five thousand, and presenting an imposing display of churches and monasteries gaudily painted and with gilded domes; the houses were principally of wood, painted yellow. toula is the largest manufacturing town, and is called the sheffield of russia, being particularly celebrated for its cutlery. everywhere the diligence created a great sensation; the knowing ones said it would never do; but at orel one spirited individual said if we would wait three days for him he would go on with us. it can hardly seem credible, in our steamboat and railroad community, that a public conveyance could roll on for seven days and nights, through many villages and towns, toward the capital of an immense empire, and not take in a single way-passenger; but such was the fact; and on the morning of the seventh day, alone, as we started from chioff, we were approaching the burned and rebuilt capital of the czars, moscow with gilded cupolas, the holy moscow, the sanctified city, the jerusalem of russia, beloved of god, and dear to men. chapter iii. moscow.--a severe operation.--an exile by accident.--meeting with an emigré.--a civil stranger.--a spy.--the kremlin.--sepulchres of the czars.--the great bell.--the great gun.--precious relics. at daylight we arrived at the last post; and here, for the first time, we saw evidences of our approach to a great city. four or five travelling-carriages were waiting for horses, some of which had been waiting all night; but our diligence being a "public accommodation," we were preferred, and had the first that came in. we took our places for the last time in the diligence, and passed two or three fine chateaux, our curiosity and interest increasing as we approached, until, at about five versts from moscow, as we reached the summit of a gentle eminence, the whole city broke upon us at one view, situated in the midst of a great plain, and covering an extent of more than thirty versts. moscow is emphatically the city of churches, containing more than six hundred, many of which have five or six domes, with steeples, and spires, and crosses, gilded and connected together with golden chains like those of chioff. its convents, too, are almost innumerable, rivalling the churches in size and magnificence, and even to us, coming directly from the capital of the eastern empire, presenting a most striking and extraordinary appearance. as we passed the barrier, two of the most conspicuous objects on each side were the large greek convents, enclosed by high walls, with noble trees growing above them; and as we rode through the wide and showy streets, the first thing that struck me as strange, and, in this inhospitable climate (always associated in my mind with rude and wintry scenes), as singularly beautiful, was the profusion of plants and flowers, with the remarkable degree of taste and attention given to their cultivation. in greece and turkey i had seen the rarest plants and flowers literally "wasting their sweetness on the desert air;" while here, in the heart of an inhospitable country, every house had a courtyard or garden, and in front a light open portico or veranda, ornamented with plants, and shrubs, and flowers, forced into a glowing though unnatural beauty. the whole appearance of the city is asiatic; and as the exhibition of flowers in front of the better class of houses was almost universal, moscow seemed basking in the mild climate of southern asia, rioting in its brief period of vernal existence, and forgetting that, in a few weeks, a frost would come and cover their beauty with the dreary drapery of winter. at the office of the diligence my companion and myself separated. he went to a hotel kept by an english woman, with english company, and i believe, too, with english comfort, and i rode to the hotel germanica, an old and favourite stopping-place with the russian seigneurs when they come up from their estates in the country. having secured my room, i mounted a drosky and hurried to a bath. riding out to the suburbs, the drosky boy stopped at a large wooden building, pouring forth steam from every chink and crevice. at the entrance stood several half-naked men, one of whom led me to an apartment to undress, and then conducted me to another, in one end of which were a furnace and apparatus for generating steam. i was then familiar with the turkish bath, but the worst i had known was like the breath of the gentle south wind compared with the heat of this apartment. the operator stood me in the middle of the floor, opened the upper door of the stove, and dashed into it a bucketful of water, which sent forth volumes of steam like a thick fog into every part of the room, and then laid me down on a platform about three feet high and rubbed my body with a mop dipped in soap and hot water; then he raised me up, and deluged me with hot water, pouring several tubfuls on my head; then laid me down again, and scrubbed me with soap and water from my head to my heels, long enough, if the thing were possible, to make a blackamoor white; then gave me another sousing with hot water, and another scrubbing with pure water, and then conducted me up a flight of steps to a high platform, stretched me out on a bench within a few feet of the ceiling, and commenced whipping me with twigs of birch, with the leaves on them, dipped in hot water. it was hot as an oven where he laid me down on the bench; the vapour, which almost suffocated me below, ascended to the ceiling, and, finding no avenue of escape, gathered round my devoted body, fairly scalding and blistering me; and when i removed my hands from my face, i felt as if i had carried away my whole profile. i tried to hold out to the end, but i was burning, scorching, and consuming. in agony i cried out to my tormentor to let me up, but he did not understand me, or was loath to let me go, and kept thrashing me with the bunch of twigs until, perfectly desperate, i sprang off the bench, tumbled him over, and descended to the floor. snow, snow, a region of eternal snow seemed paradise; but my tormentor had not done with me; and, as i was hurrying to the door, he dashed over me a tub of cold water. i was so hot that it seemed to hiss as it touched me; he came at me with another, and at that moment i could imagine, what had always seemed a traveller's story, the high satisfaction and perfect safety with which the russian in mid winter rushes from his hot bath and rolls himself in the snow. the grim features of my tormentor relaxed as he saw the change that came over me. i withdrew to my dressing-room, dozed an hour on the settee, and went out a new man. in half an hour i stood in the palace of the czars, within the walls of the kremlin. toward evening i returned to my hotel. in all the large hotels in russia it is the custom for every man to dine in his own apartment. travelling alone, i always avoided this when i could, as, besides my dislike of the thing itself, it prevented my making acquaintances and acquiring such information as i needed in a strange city; and i was particularly averse to dine alone the first day of my arrival at moscow; but it was the etiquette of the house to do so, and as i had a letter of introduction which i intended to deliver, from count woronzow to prince galitzin, the governor of moscow, i was bound to make some sacrifice for the credit of my acquaintance. after the table was spread, however, finding it too severe a trial, i went down stairs and invited myself to dine with my landlord. he was a german of about fifty-five or sixty, tall, stout, with gray hair, a frank, manly expression, and great respectability of appearance and manners; and before the dinner was over i regarded him emphatically as what a frenchman would call _un brave homme_. he had been in russia during the whole of the french invasion, and, among the other incidents of a stirring life, had been sent in exile to siberia; and the curious part of it was, that he was sent there by mistake. rather an awkward mistake, though, as he said, not so bad as being knouted or hanged by mistake; and in his case it turned out a rather interesting adventure. he was taken by the french as a russian spy, and retaken by the russians as a french spy, when, as he said, he did not care a fig for either of them. he was hurried off to siberia, but on the journey succeeded in convincing the officer who escorted the prisoners that there was error in the case, and on his arrival was merely detained in exile, without being put to hard labour, until, through the medium of friends, he had the matter brought before the proper tribunal, and the mistake corrected, when he came back post, in company with a russian officer, smoking his pipe all the way, at the expense of the government. he gave me many interesting particulars in regard to that celebrated country, its mines, the sufferings of the noble exiles; and much also, that was new to me, touching its populousness and wealth, and the comfort and luxury of a residence there. he spoke of tobolsk as a large, gay, and populous city, containing hotels, theatres, and all kinds of places of amusement. the exiles, being many of them of rank, have introduced there all the luxuries of the capital, and life at tobolsk is much the same as life at moscow. as the rage for travelling is excited by hearing from the lips of a traveller stories of the countries he has visited, before dinner was over i found myself infected with a strong disposition for a journey to siberia. small matters, however, produce great changes in the current of a man's feelings, and in a few moments i had entirely forgotten siberia, and was carried directly home. while we were smoking our pipes, an old gentleman entered, of singularly aristocratic appearance, whom my host received with the greatest consideration and respect, addressing him as the marquis de p----. he was a frenchman, an old militaire, and a noble specimen of a race almost extinct; tall, thin, and gray-headed, wearing a double-breasted blue frockcoat, buttoned up to the throat, with a cane in his hand and a red riband in his buttonhole, the decoration of the knights of malta; and when my host introduced me as an american traveller arrived that day in moscow, he welcomed me with more than the usual forms of courtesy, and told me that, far off as it was, and little as he knew of it, he almost regarded america as his own country; that, on the downfall of "the emperor," and in a season of universal scattering, some of his nearest relatives, particularly a sister married to a fellow-soldier and his dearest friend, had taken refuge on the other side of the atlantic; that, eighteen years before, he had met an american secretary of legation who knew them, but since that time he had not heard from them, and did not know whether they were living or dead. i asked him the name, with very little expectation of being able to give him any information about them; and it was with no small degree of pleasure that i found i was particularly acquainted with the condition of his relatives. his brother-in-law and old comrade was dead, but i brought him a satisfaction to which he had long been a stranger, by telling him that his sister was still living, occupying a large property in a neighbouring state, surrounded by a family of children, in character and standing ranking among the first in our country. they were intimately connected with the family of one of my most intimate friends, letters to and from different members of which had very often passed through my hands; i knew the names of all his nieces, and personally one of his nephews, a lieutenant, and one of the most promising officers in our navy; and about a year before i had accompanied the friends to whom i refer on a visit to these relatives. at philadelphia i left them under the charge of the lieutenant; and on my return from washington, according to agreement, the lieutenant came down to an intersecting point on the railroad to take me home with him; but circumstances prevented my going, and much as i regretted my disappointment then, i regretted it far more now, as otherwise i might have gladdened the old man's heart by telling him that within a year i had seen his sister. his own history was brief. born to the possession of rank and fortune, and having won honours and decorations by long service in the field, and risen to the rank of inspector-general in the army of napoleon, he was taken in the campaign against russia in eighteen hundred and thirteen, and sent a prisoner of war to moscow, where he had remained ever since. immediately on their arrival, his brother-in-law and sister had written to him from america, telling him that, with the wreck of their fortune, they had purchased a large landed estate, and begging him to come over and share their abundance; but, as he told me, he scorned to eat the bread of idleness and dependance; manfully turned to account the advantages of an accomplished education; and now, at the advanced age of seventy-eight, sustained himself by his pencil, an honoured guest at every table, and respected by the most distinguished inhabitants of moscow. he had accidentally given up his rooms a few days before, and was residing temporarily at the same hotel with myself. he was much agitated by this unexpected intelligence from friends he never expected to hear of more, and left me with a promise to call upon me early in the morning. too much interested myself to go back to siberia with my host, i went to the french theatre. the play was some little every-day thing, and the house but thinly attended. i took my seat in the pit, which was on a dead level, instead of ascending from the stage, containing large cushioned seats, and sprinkled with officers talking with ladies in the boxes above. at the end of the first act, as whole benches were empty above me, i moved up to put myself nearer a pair of bright eyes that were beaming from the box upon a pair of epaulettes below. i was hardly seated before one of the understrappers came up and whispered, or rather muttered, something in my ear. as i did not understand a word he said, and his manner was exceedingly rude and ungracious, i turned my back upon him and looked at the lady with the bright eyes. the fellow continued muttering in my ear, and i began to be seriously annoyed and indignant, when a frenchman sitting two or three benches behind me came up, and, in an imperious tone, ordered him away. he then cursed the russians as a set of canaille, from the greatest seigneurs to the lowest serf; remarked that he saw i was a stranger, and, with the easy freedom of a man of the world, took a seat by my side. he was above six feet high, about thirty-three or thirty-four years of age, in robust health, with a large pair of whiskers, rather overdressed, and of manners good, though somewhat imperious and bordering on the swagger. he seemed perfectly at home in the theatre; knew all the actors and, before the evening was over, offered to introduce me to all the actresses. i was under obligations to him, if not for the last offer, at least for relieving me from the impertinent doorkeeper; and, when the curtain fell, accepted his invitation to go to a restaurant and take a petit souper. i accompanied him to the restaurant au coin du pont des mareschaux, which i afterward ascertained to be the first in moscow. he was perfectly at home with the carte, knew exactly what to order, and, in fact, he was a man of great general information, perfectly familiar with all continental europe, geographically and politically, and particularly at home in moscow; and he offered his services in showing me all that was curious and interesting. we sat together more than two hours, and in our rambling and discursive conversation i could not help remarking that he seemed particularly fond of railing at the government, its tyranny and despotism, and appealing to me, as an american and a liberal, to sustain him. i did not think anything of it then, though in a soldier under charles the tenth, driven out, as he said, by the revolution of july, it was rather strange; but, at any rate, either from a spirit of contradiction or because i had really a good feeling toward everything in russia, i disagreed with him throughout; he took upon himself the whole honours of the entertainment, scolded the servants, called in the landlord, and, as i observed, after a few words with him, went out without paying. i saw that the landlord knew him, and that there was something constrained and peculiar in his behaviour. i must confess, however, that i did not notice these things at the time so clearly as when i was induced to recur to them by after circumstances, for we went out of the house the best friends in the world; and, as it was then raining, we took a drosky and rode home together, with our arms around each other's neck, and my cloak thrown over us both. about two o'clock, in a heavy rain, i stopped at my hotel, bade him good-night, and lent him my cloak to go home with. the reader, perhaps, smiles at my simplicity, but he is wrong in his conjecture; my cloak came home the next morning, and was my companion and only covering many a night afterward. my friend followed it, sat with me a few minutes, and was taking his departure, having made an appointment to call for me at twelve o'clock, when there was a knock at the door, and my friend the marquis entered. i presented them to each other, and the latter was in the act of bending his body with the formality of a gentleman of the old school, when he caught a full view of my friend of the theatre, and, breaking off his unfinished bow, recovered his erect position, and staring from him to me, and from me to him, seemed to demand an explanation. i had no explanation to give, nor had my friend, who, cocking his hat on one side, and brushing by the marquis with more than his usual swagger, stamped down stairs. the marquis looked after him till he was at the foot of the stairs, and then turning to me, asked how, in the name of wonder, i had already contrived to pick up such an acquaintance. i told him the history of our meeting at the theatre, our supper at the restaurant, and our loving ride home, to which he listened with breathless attention; and after making me tax my memory for the particulars of the conversation at the restaurant, told me that my friend was a disgrace to his country; that he had, no doubt, been obliged to leave france for some rascality, and was now entertained by the emperor of russia as a _spy_, particularly upon his own countrymen; that he was well fed and clothed, and had the entrée of all the theatres and public houses without paying. with the earnestness of a man long used to a despotic government, and to seeing slight offences visited with terrible punishments, the marquis congratulated me upon not having fallen into what he called the snare laid for me. it is almost impossible for an american to believe that even in russia he incurs any risk in speaking what he thinks; he is apt to regard the stories of summary punishment for freedom of speech as bugbears or bygone things. in my own case, even when men looked cautiously around the room and then spoke in whispers, i could not believe that there was any danger. still i had become prudent enough not to talk with any unnecessary indiscretion of the constituted authorities, and, even in writing home to my friends, not to say anything that could prejudice me if the letter should fall into wrong hands; and now, although i did not consider that i had run any great risk, i was rather pleased that i had said nothing exceptionable; and though i had no apprehension, particularly since i had been put on my guard, i determined to drop my new acquaintance, and did not consider myself bound to observe any great courtesy in the mode of doing it. i had had a supper, which it was my original intention to return with a dinner; but i did not consider myself under any obligation to him for civilities shown in the exercise of his despicable calling. the first time i met him i made no apology for having been out when he called according to appointment, and did not ask him to come again. i continued to meet him in the streets and at every public place, but our greetings became colder and colder, and the day before i left moscow we brushed against each other without speaking at all. so much for acquaintances who, after an intimacy of three or four hours, had ridden home under the same cloak, with their arms around each other's neck. but to return: as soon as the marquis left me i again went to the kremlin, to me the great, i had almost said the only, object of interest in moscow. i always detested a cicerone; his bowing, fawning, and prating annoyed me; and all through italy, with my map and guide-book under my arm, i was in the habit of rambling about alone. i did the same at moscow, and again walked to the kremlin unaccompanied. unlike many of the places i had visited, all the interest i had felt in looking forward to the kremlin was increased when i stood within its walls. i had thought of it as the rude and barbarous palace of the czars; but i found it one of the most extraordinary, beautiful, and magnificent objects i ever beheld. i rambled over it several times with admiration, without attempting to comprehend it all. its commanding situation on the banks of the moskwa river; its high and venerable walls; its numerous battlements, towers, and steeples; its magnificent and gorgeous palaces; its cathedrals, churches, monasteries, and belfries, with their gilded, coppered, and tin-plated domes; its mixture of barbarism and decay, magnificence and ruins; its strong contrast of architecture, including the tartarian, hindoo, chinese, and gothic; and, rising above all, the lofty tower of ivan veliki, with its golden ball reflecting the sun with dazzling brilliancy, all together exhibited a beauty, grandeur, and magnificence strange and indescribable. [illustration: the kremlin.] the kremlin is "the heart" and "sacred place" of moscow, once the old fortress of the tartars, and now the centre of the modern city. it is nearly triangular in form, enclosed by a high brick wall painted white, and nearly two miles in extent, and is in itself a city. it has five gates, at four of which there are high watch-towers. the fifth is "our saviour's," or the holy gate, through whose awe-commanding portals no male, not even the emperor and autocrat of all the russias, can pass except with uncovered head and bended body. bareheaded, i entered by this gate, and passed on to a noble esplanade, commanding one of the most interesting views of moscow, and having in front the range of palaces of the czars. i shall not attempt to describe these palaces. they are a combination of every variety of taste and every order of architecture, grecian, gothic, italian, tartar, and hindoo, rude, fanciful, grotesque, gorgeous, magnificent, and beautiful. the churches, monasteries, arsenals, museum, and public buildings are erected with no attempt at regularity of design, and in the same wild confusion of architecture. there are no regular streets, but three open places or squares, and abundance of room for carriages and foot passengers, with which, in summer afternoons, it is always thronged. having strolled for some time about the kremlin, i entered the cathedral of the assumption, the most splendid church in moscow. it was founded in 1325, and rebuilt in 1472. it is loaded with gorgeous and extravagant ornaments. the iconastos or screen which divides the sanctuary from the body of the church is in many parts covered with plates of solid silver and gold, richly and finely wrought. on the walls are painted the images of more than two thousand three hundred saints, some at full length and some of a colossal size, and the whole interior seems illuminated with gold, of which more than two hundred and ten thousand leaves have been employed in embellishing it. from the centre of the roof is suspended a crown of massive silver, with forty-eight chandeliers, all in a single piece, and weighing nearly three thousand pounds. besides the portraits of saints and martyrs, there are portraits of the old historians, whose names, to prevent confusion, are attached to their resemblances, as aristotle, anarcharsis, thucydides, plutarch, &c. some of the paintings on wood could not fail to delight an antiquary, inasmuch as every vestige of paint being obliterated, there is abundance of room for speculation as to their age and character. there is also an image of the virgin, painted by st. luke's own hand!!! the face dark, almost black, the head encircled with a glory of precious stones, and the hands and the body gilded. it is reverenced for its miraculous powers, guarded with great care, and enclosed within a large silver covering, which is never removed but on great religious festivals, or on payment of a ruble to the verger. here, too, is a nail from the cross, a robe of our saviour's, and part of one of the virgin's!!! and here, too, are the tombs of the church patriarchs, one of whom, st. phillippe, honoured by a silver monument, dared to say to john the terrible, "we respect you as an image of the divinity, but as a man you partake of the dust of the earth." the cathedral of the assumption is honoured as the place where the sovereigns of russia are crowned, and there is but a step from their throne to their grave, for near it is the cathedral of the archangel michael, the ancient burial-place where, in raised sepulchres, lie the bodies of the czars, from the time when moscow became the seat of empire until the close of the seventeenth century. the bodies rest in raised tombs or sepulchres, each covered with a velvet pall, and having on it a silver plate, bearing the name of the occupant and the date of his decease. close by is an odd-looking church, constantly thronged with devotees; a humble structure, said to be the oldest christian church in moscow. it was built in the desert, before moscow was thought of, and its walls are strong enough to last till the gorgeous city shall become a desert again. after strolling through the churches i ascended the tower of ivan veliki, or john the great, the first of the czars. it is about two hundred and seventy feet high, and contains thirty-three bells, the smallest weighing seven thousand, and the largest more than one hundred and twenty-four thousand pounds english. on festivals they are all tolled together, the muscovites being extremely fond of ivan veliki's music. this celebrated tower rises above every other object in the kremlin, and its large gilded dome and cross are conspicuous from every part of the city. from its top i had the finest view of moscow and the surrounding country, and, perhaps, the finest panoramic view in the world. hundreds of churches were in sight, with their almost innumerable domes, and spires, and crosses glittering with gold, tartaric battlements, terraces, balconies, and ramparts. gothic steeples, grecian columns, the star, the crescent, and the cross, palaces, mosques, and tartar temples, pagodas, pavilions, and verandas, monasteries peeping out over high walls and among noble trees, the stream of the moskwa winding prettily below, and in the distance the sparrow hills, on which the french army first made its appearance on the invasion of moscow. it may seem strange, but i did not feel myself a stranger on the top of that tower. thousands of miles away i had read its history. i knew that the magnificent city at my feet had been a sheet of fire, and that, when napoleon fled by the light of its conflagration, a dreadful explosion shook to their foundation the sacred precincts of the kremlin, and rent from its base to its top the lofty tower of ivan. i descended, and the custode conducted me to another well-known object, the great bell, the largest, and the wonder of the world. it is only a short distance from the foot of the tower, in an excavation under ground, accessible by a trapdoor, like the covered mouth of a well. i descended by a broken ladder, and can hardly explain to myself the curiosity and interest with which i examined this monstrous piece of metal. i have no knowledge of or taste for mechanics, and no particular penchant for bells, even when spelled with an additional e; but i knew all about this one, and it added wonderfully to the interest with which i strolled through the kremlin, that, from accidental circumstances, i was familiar with every object within its walls. i impeach, no doubt, my classical taste, but, before seeing either, i had dwelt with more interest upon the kremlin, and knew more of it, than of the acropolis at athens; and i stood at the foot of the great bell almost with a feeling of reverence. its perpendicular height is twenty-one feet four inches, and the extreme thickness of the metal twenty-three inches; the length of the clapper is fourteen feet, the greatest circumference sixty-seven feet four inches, its weight upward of four hundred thousand pounds english, and its cost has been estimated at more than three hundred and sixty-five thousand pounds sterling. there is some question whether this immense bell was ever hung, but it is supposed that it was suspended by a great number of beams and crossbeams; that it was rung by forty or fifty men, one half on either side, who pulled the clapper by means of ropes, and that the sound amazed and deafened the inhabitants. on one side is a crack large enough to admit the figure of a man. i went inside and called aloud, and received an echo like the reverberations of thunder. [illustration: the great bell.] besides the great bell, there is another noisy musical instrument, namely, the great gun, like the bell, the largest in the world, being a four thousand three hundred and twenty pounder. it is sixteen feet long, and the diameter of its calibre nearly three feet. i jumped in and turned round in its mouth, and sat upright, my head not reaching the top. all around were planted cannon taken from the french in their unhappy expedition against the capital of russia; immense fieldpieces, whose throats once poured their iron hail against the walls within which they now repose as trophies. i was attracted by a crowd at the door of one of the principal buildings, which i found to be the treasury, containing what a russian prizes as his birthright, the repository of sacred heirlooms; the doorkeeper demanded a permit, and i answered him with rubles and entered the treasury. on the first floor are the ancient imperial carriages; large, heavy, and extraordinary vehicles, covered with carving and gilding, and having large plate glass windows; among them was an enormous sleigh, carved and profusely gilded, and containing a long table with cushioned seats on each side; all together, these vehicles were most primitive and asiatic in appearance, and each one had some long and interesting story connected with it. i ascended by a noble staircase to the _belle etage_, a gallery composed of five parts, in the first of which are the portraits of all the emperors and czars and their wives, in the exact costume of the times in which they lived; in another is a model of a palace projected by the empress catharine to unite the whole kremlin under one roof, having a circumference of two miles, and make of it one magnificent palace; if it had been completed according to the plan, this palace would probably have surpassed the temple of solomon or any of the seven wonders of the world. in another is a collection of precious relics, such as the crowns worn by the different emperors and czars, loaded with precious stones; the dresses worn at their marriages; the canopies under which the emperors are married, surmounted by magnificent plumes; two canopies of red velvet, studded with gold, and a throne with two seats. the crown of prince vladimir is surmounted by a golden cross, and ornamented with pearls and precious stones, and, until the time of peter the great, was used to crown the czars; the crown of the conquered kingdom of cazan was placed there by the victorious hands of john vassilivitch. besides these were the crowns of the conquered countries of astrachan and siberia. that of john alexius has eight hundred and eighty-one diamonds, and under the cross which surmounts it is an immense ruby. there were also the crown of peter the great, containing eight hundred and forty-seven diamonds; that of catharine the first, his widow, containing two thousand five hundred and thirty-six fine diamonds, to which the empress anne added a ruby of enormous size, bought by the russian ambassador at pekin; and, lastly, the crown of unhappy poland! it is of polished gold, surmounted by a cross, but no other ornament. and there were other emblems of royalty: a throne or greek fauteuil of ivory, in arabesque, presented to john the great by the ambassadors who accompanied from rome to moscow the princess sophia, whom he had demanded in marriage. she was the daughter of thomas paleologus porphrygenitus brother of constantine paleologus, who died in fourteen hundred and fifty-three, after seeing his empire fall into the hands of the turks. by this marriage john considered himself the heir of constantine, and took the title of czar, meaning cæsar (this is one of the derivations of the name), and thus the emperor and autocrat of all the russias has the fairest claim to the throne of the cæsars, and, consequently, has always had an eye upon constantinople; then there are the throne of boris, adorned with two thousand seven hundred and sixty turquoises and other precious stones; that of michel, containing eight thousand eight hundred and twenty-four precious stones; that of alexius, containing eight hundred and seventy-six diamonds, one thousand two hundred and twenty-four other jewels, and many pearls, bought of a company of merchants trafficking to ispahan; the throne of the czars john and peter, made of massive silver, separated in the middle, the back a cloth of gold, concealing a hole through which the czarina used to dictate answers to the foreign ambassadors; and, lastly, the throne of poland! in the armory are specimens of ancient armour, the workmanship of every age and nation; coats of mail, sabres adorned with jewels, swords, batons, crosses in armour, imperial robes, ermines in abundance, and, finally, the clothes in which peter the great worked at saardam, including his old boots, from which it appears that he had considerable of a foot. these memorials were all interesting, and i wandered through the apartments till ordered out by the footman, when i returned to my hotel to meet my old friend the marquis, who was engaged to dine with me. at his suggestion we went to a new restaurant, patronized by a different set of people from those who frequented the restaurant au coin du pont des mareschaux, being chiefly frenchmen, manufacturers, and small merchants of various kinds, who, while they detested the country, found it a profitable business to introduce parisian luxuries and refinements among the barbarous russians. a party of about twenty sat at a long table, and relieved the severity of exile by talking of their beautiful and beloved france; many of them were old militaires; and my octogenarian friend, as a soldier distinguished under the empire, and identified with the glory of the french arms, was treated with a consideration and respect honourable to them and flattering to himself. at another table was another circle of strangers, composed almost exclusively of swiss, forming here, as elsewhere, one of the most valuable parts of the foreign population; keeping alive by intercourse with each other the recollections of home, and looking to the time when, with the profits of successful industry, they might return to their wild and beloved native mountains. "dear is that hill to which his soul conforms, and dear that cliff which lifts him to the storms." before we rose from table my friend of the theatre came in and took his seat at one end; he talked and laughed louder than any one else, and was received generally with an outward appearance of cordiality; but the old marquis could not endure his presence. he said he had become too old to learn, and it was too late in life to temporize with dishonour; that he did not blame his countrymen; fair words cost nothing, and it was not worth their while wilfully to make an enemy who would always be on their haunches; but as to himself, he had but a few years to live, and he would not sully the last moments of his life by tolerating a man whom he regarded as a disgrace to his country. we rose from the table, the old marquis leaning on my arm, and pouring in my ears his honest indignation at the disgraceful character of his countryman, and proceeded to the kitaigorod, or chinese town, the division immediately encircling the kremlin. it is enclosed by a wall with battlements, towers, and gates; is handsomely and compactly built, with wide, clean, and regular streets, and thronged with every variety of people, greeks, turks, tartars, cossacks, chinese, muscovites, french, italians, poles, and germans, in the costumes of their respective nations. the quarter is entirely russian, and i did not find in the shops a single person who could speak any language but russian. in one of them, where i was conducted by the marquis, i found the old mongik to whom i before referred, who could not agree with his master for the price of his ransom. the principal shops resemble the bazars in the east, though they are far superior even to those in constantinople, being built of stone, and generally in the form of arcades. they are well filled with every description of asiatic goods; and some of them, particularly their tea, and tobacco, and pipe shops, are models of propriety and cleanliness. the façade of the great bazar or market is very imposing, resting the whole length on corinthian columns. it fronts on a noble square, bounded on the opposite side by the white walls of the kremlin, and contains six thousand "bargaining shops." the merchants live at a distance, and, on leaving their shops at sundown, each of them winds a piece of cord round the padlock of his door, and seals it with soft wax; a seal being with the russians more sacred than a lock. in another section of the kitaigorod is the finest part of the city, containing the hotels and residences of the nobles, many of which are truly magnificent. the hotel at which i put up would in italy be called a palace. as we moved slowly along the street by the pont des mareschaux, we discoursed of the terrible inroads at this moment making by the french in the capital of the north, almost every shop having an inviting sign of nouveautés from paris. foiled in their attempt with the bayonet, they are now advancing with apparently more feeble but far more insidious and fatal weapons; and the rugged russian, whom french arms could not conquer, bows to the supremacy of the french modistes and artistes, and quietly wears the livery of the great mistress of fashion. chapter iv. the drosky.--salle des nobles.--russian gaming.--gastronomy.--pedroski.--a sunday in moscow.--a gipsy belle.--tea drinking.--the emperor's garden.--retrospective. early the next morning i mounted a drosky and rode to a celebrated garden or springs, furnished with every description of mineral water. i have several times spoken of the drosky. this may be called the russian national vehicle, for it is found all over russia, and nowhere else that i know of, except at warsaw, where it was introduced by its russian conquerors. it is on four wheels, with a long cushioned seat running lengthwise, on which the rider sits astride as on horseback, and so low that he can mount from the street. it is drawn by two horses; one in shafts, with a high arched bow over the neck called the douga, and the other, called "le furieux," in traces alongside, this last being trained to curb his neck and canter while the shaft-horse trots. the seat is long enough for two besides the driver, the riders sitting with their feet on different sides; or sometimes there is a cross-seat behind, on which the riders sit, with their faces to the horses, and the drosky boy, always dressed in a long surtout, with a bell-crowned hat turned up at the sides, sits on the end. but to return to the springs. the waters are prepared under the direction of medical men, who have the chymical analysis of all the principal mineral waters known, and manufacture them to order. as is universally the case in russia, where there is any attempt at style, the establishment is upon a magnificent scale. the building contains a room perhaps one hundred and fifty feet long, with a clean and highly-polished floor, large looking-glasses, elegant sofas, and mahogany chairs and tables. the windows open upon a balcony extending along the whole front, which is furnished with tables and rustic chairs, and opens upon a large garden ornamented with gravel-walks, trees, and the most rare and valuable plants and flowers, at the time of my visit in full bloom. every morning, from sunrise till noon, crowds of people, and particularly the nobility and higher classes, frequent this establishment, and that morning there was a larger collection than usual. russian hospitality is conspicuous at a place like this. a stranger, instead of being avoided, is sought out; and after one or two promenades i was accosted by more than one gentleman, ready to show me every civility. in the long room and on the balconies, scattered about at the different tables, i saw the gourmand who had distended his stomach almost to bursting, and near him the gaunt and bilious dyspeptic, drinking their favourite waters; the dashing officer and the blooming girl, the lover and coquette, and, in short, all the style and fashion of moscow, their eyes occasionally turning to the long mirrors, and then singly, in pairs and in groups, strolling gently through the gardens, enjoying the music that was poured forth from hidden arbours. returning through a street not far from my hotel, i saw a line of carriages, and gentlemen and ladies passing under a light arcade, which formed the entrance to a large building. i joined the throng, and was put back by the doorkeeper because i was not in a dresscoat. i ran to my hotel and changed my frockcoat, but now i had no biglietto of entrance. a few rubles obviated this difficulty and admitted me to the _salle des nobles_, a magnificent apartment surrounded by a colonnade, capable of containing more than three thousand persons, and said to be the finest ballroom in europe. it belongs to a club of the nobility, and none are admitted as members but nobles. all games of hazard are forbidden; but, nevertheless, all games of hazard are played. indeed, among the "on dits" which a traveller picks up, gambling is said to be the great vice of russia. young men who have not two rubles to rub together will bet thousands; and, when all other resources fail, the dishonourable will cheat, but the delicate-minded will kill themselves. it is not uncommon for a young man to say at the cardtable over night, "i must shoot myself to-morrow;" and he is as good as his word. the salle was open for a few days, as a sort of fair, for the exhibition of specimens of russian manufacture; and, besides tables, workboxes, &c., there were some of the finest living specimens of genuine russian men and women that i had yet seen, though not to be compared, as a russian officer said, to whom i made the remark, with the exhibition of the same specimens in the waltz and mazourka, when the salle was lighted up and decorated for a ball. i returned to my hotel, where i found my old friend the marquis waiting, according to appointment, to dine with me. he would have accompanied me everywhere, but i saw that he suffered from the exertion, and would not allow it. meeting with me had struck a chord that had not been touched for years, and he was never tired of talking of his friends in america. every morning he breakfasted in my room, and we dined together every day. we went to the restaurant where i had supped with my friend of the theatre. the saloon was crowded, and at a table next us sat a seigneur, who was dining upon a delicacy that will surprise the reader, viz., one of his own female slaves, a very pretty girl, whom he had hired to the keeper of the restaurant for her maintenance and a dinner a volonté per annum for himself. this was the second time he had dined on her account, and she was then waiting upon him; a pretty, modest, delicate-looking girl, and the old noble seemed never to know when he had enough of her. we left him gloating over still untasted dishes, and apparently mourning that human ability could hold out no longer. in going out my old friend, in homely but pithy phrase, said the only difference between a russian seigneur and a russian serf is, that the one wears his shirt inside his trousers and the other outside; but my friend spoke with the prejudices of a soldier of france aggravated by more than twenty years of exile. so far as my observation extended, the higher classes are rather extraordinary for talent and acquirements. their government is unfortunate for the development and exercise of abilities. they have none of the learned profession; merchandise is disgraceful, and the army is the only field. with an ardent love of country and an ambition to distinguish himself, every nobleman becomes a soldier, and there is hardly an old or middle-aged individual of this class who was not in arms to repel the invasion of napoleon, and hardly a young man who did not serve lately in a less noble cause, the campaign in poland. the consequence of service in the army seems to have been generally a passion for display and expensive living, which sent them back to their estates, after their terms of service expired, over head and ears in debt. unable to come often to the cities, and obliged to live at their chateaux, deprived of all society, surrounded only by slaves, and feeling the want of the excitement incident to a military life, many of them become great gourmands, or rather, as my french friend said, gluttons. they do not eat, said he, they swallow; and the manner in which, with the true spirit of a frenchman who still remembered the cuisine of the palais royal, he commented upon their eating entremets, hors d'oeuvres, rotis, and desserts all pellmell, would have formed a proper episode to major hamilton's chapter upon americans eating eggs out of wineglasses. the old marquis, although he retained all his french prejudices against the russians, and always asserted, as the russians themselves admit, that, but for the early setting in of winter, napoleon would have conquered russia, allowed them the virtue of unbounded hospitality, and enumerated several principal families at whose tables he could at any time take a seat without any express invitation, and with whom he was always sure of being a welcome guest; and he mentioned the case of a compatriot who for years had a place regularly reserved for him at the table of a seigneur, which he took whenever he pleased without any questions being asked, until, having stayed away longer than usual, the seigneur sent to inquire for him, and learned that he was dead. but to return. toward evening i parted with the marquis, mounted a drosky, and rode to the country theatre at pedroski. pedroski is a place dear to the heart of every russian, having been the favourite residence of peter the great, to whom russia owes its existence among civilized nations. it is about three versts from the barrier, on the st. petersburgh road. the st. petersburgh gate is a very imposing piece of architecture. six spirited horses rest lightly upon the top, like the brazen horses at st. mark's in venice. a wide road, divided into avenues for carriages and pedestrians, gravelled and lined with trees, leads from the gate. the chateau is an old and singular, but interesting building of red brick, with a green dome and white cornices, and enclosed by a circular wall flanked with turrets. in the plain in front two regiments of cossack cavalry were going through their exercises. the grounds around the chateau are very extensive, handsomely laid out for carriages and promenades, public and retired, to suit every taste. the principal promenade is about a mile in length, through a forest of majestic old trees. on each side is a handsome footpath of continual shade; and sometimes almost completely hidden by the luxuriant foliage are beautiful little summer-houses, abundantly supplied with all kinds of refreshments. the theatre is at a little distance from the extreme end of the great promenade, a plain and unpretending building; and this and the grand operahouse are the only theatres i have seen built like ours, merely with continued rows of seats, and not partitioned off into private boxes. the opera was some little russian piece, and was followed by the grand ballet, the revolt of the seraglio. he who goes to russia expecting to see a people just emerging from a state of barbarism, will often be astonished to find himself suddenly in a scene of parisian elegance and refinement; and in no place will he feel this wonder more than in an operahouse at moscow. the house was rather full, and contained more of the russian nobility than i had yet seen at any one time. they were well dressed, adorned with stars and ribands, and, as a class of men, the "biggest in the round" i ever saw. orders and titles of nobility, by-the-way, are given with a liberality which makes them of no value; and all over russia princes are as plenty as pickpockets in london. the seigneurs of russia have jumped over all intermediate grades of civilization, and plunged at once into the luxuries of metropolitan life. the ballet was, of course, inferior to that of paris or london, but it is speaking in no mean praise of it to say that at this country theatre it might be made a subject of comparison. the dancers were the prettiest, the most interesting, and, what i was particularly struck with, the most modest looking i ever saw on the stage. it was melancholy to look at those beautiful girls, who, amid the glare and glitter of the stage, and in the graceful movements of the dance, were perfectly captivating and entrancing, and who, in the shades of domestic life, might fill the measure of man's happiness on earth, and know them to be slaves. the whole troop belongs to the emperor. they are selected when young with reference to their beauty and talents, and are brought up with great care and expense for the stage. with light fairy figures, seeming rather spirits than corporeal substances, and trained to inspire admiration and love, they can never give way to these feelings themselves, for their affections and marriages are regulated entirely by the manager's convenience. what though they are taken from the very poorest class of life, leaving their parents, their brothers and sisters, the tenants of miserable cabins, oppressed and vilified, and cold and hungry, while they are rolling in luxuries. a chain does not gall the less because it is gilded. raised from the lot to which they were born, taught ideas they would never have known, they but feel more sensibly the weight of their bonds; and the veriest sylph, whose graceful movements have brought down the loudest thunders of applause, and whose little heart flutters with the admiration she has excited, would probably give all her shortlived triumph for the privilege of bestowing that little flutterer where it would be loved and cherished. there was one among them whom i long remembered. i followed her with my eyes till the curtain fell and left a blank around me. i saw her go out, and afterward she passed me in one of a long train of dark blue carriages belonging to the direction, in which they are carried about like merchandise from theatre to theatre, but, like many other bright visions that broke upon me for a moment, i never saw her again. at about eleven i left the steps of the theatre to return home. it was a most magnificent night, or, rather, it is almost profanation to call it by so black a name, for in that bright northern climate the day seemed to linger, unwilling to give place before the shades of night. i strolled on alone, wrapped in lonely but not melancholy meditations; the carriages rolled rapidly by me, and i was almost the last of the throng that entered the gate of moscow. a sunday at moscow. to one who had for a long time been a stranger to the sound of the church-going bell, few things could be more interesting than a sunday at moscow. any one who has rambled along the maritime alps, and has heard from some lofty eminence the convent bell ringing for matins, vespers, and midnight prayers, will long remember the sweet yet melancholy sounds. to me there is always something touching in the sound of the church-going bell; touching in its own notes, but far more so in its associations. and these feelings were exceedingly fresh when i awoke on sunday in the holy city of moscow. in greece and turkey there are no bells; in russia they are almost innumerable, but this was the first time i had happened to pass the sabbath in a city. i lay and listened, almost fearing to move lest i should hush the sounds; thoughts of home came over me; of the day of rest, of the gathering for church, and the greeting of friends at the church door. but he who has never heard the ringing of bells at moscow does not know its music. imagine a city containing more than six hundred churches and innumerable convents, all with bells, and these all sounding together, from the sharp, quick hammer-note, to the loudest, deepest peals that ever broke and lingered on the ear, struck at long intervals, and swelling on the air as if unwilling to die away. i rose and threw open my window, dressed myself, and after breakfast, joining the throng called to their respective churches by their well-known bells, i went to what is called the english chapel, where, for the first time in many months, i joined in a regular church service, and listened to an orthodox sermon. i was surprised to see so large a congregation, though i remarked among them many english governesses with children, the english language being at that moment the rage among the russians, and multitudes of cast-off chambermaids adventuring thither to teach the rising russian nobility the beauties of the english tongue. all over the continent sunday is the great day for observing national manners and customs. i dined at an early hour with my friend the marquis, and, under his escort, mounting a drosky, rode to a great promenade of the people called _l'allée des peuples_. it lies outside the barrier, and beyond the state prisons, where the exiles for siberia are confined, on the land of count schremetow, the richest nobleman in russia, having one hundred and thirty thousand slaves on his estate; the chateau is about eight versts from the city, and a noble road through his own land leads from the barrier to his door. this promenade is the great rendezvous of the people; that is, of the merchants and shopkeepers of moscow. the promenade is simply a large piece of ground ornamented with noble trees, and provided with everything necessary for the enjoyment of all the national amusements, among which the russian mountain is the favourite; and refreshments were distributed in great abundance. soldiers were stationed at different points to preserve order, and the people seemed all cheerful and happy; but the life and soul of the place were the bohemian or gipsy girls. wherever they moved, a crowd gathered round them. they were the first i had seen of this extraordinary people. coming no one knows whence, and living no one knows how, wanderers from their birth, and with a history enveloped in doubt, it was impossible to mistake the dark complexion and piercing coal-black eyes of the gipsy women. the men were nowhere to be seen, nor were there any old women with them; and these young girls, well dressed, though, in general, with nothing peculiar in their costume, moved about in parties of five or six, singing, playing, and dancing to admiring crowds. one of them, with a red silk cloak trimmed with gold, and a gold band round her hair, struck me as the very _beau ideal_ of a gipsy queen. recognising me as a stranger, she stopped just in front of me, struck her castanets and danced, at the same time directing the movements of her companions, who formed a circle around me. there was a beauty in her face, combined with intelligence and spirit, that riveted my attention, and when she spoke her eyes seemed to read me through. i ought, perhaps, to be ashamed of it, but in all my wanderings i never regretted so much my ignorance of the language as when it denied me the pleasure of conversing with that gipsy girl. i would fain have known whether her soul did not soar above the scene and the employment in which i found her; whether she was not formed for better things than to display her beautiful person before crowds of boors; but i am sorry to add, that the character of my queen was not above reproach; and, as i had nothing but my character to stand upon in moscow, i was obliged to withdraw from the observation which her attention fixed upon me. leaving my swarthy princess with this melancholy reflection, and leaving the scene of humbler enjoyment, i mounted a drosky, and, depositing my old friend in the suburbs of the city, in half an hour was in another world, in the great promenade of pedroski, the gathering-place of the nobility, where all the rank and fashion of moscow were vying with each other in style and magnificence. the extensive grounds around the old chateau are handsomely disposed and ornamented with trees, but the great carriage promenade is equal to anything i ever saw. it is a straight road, more than a mile in length, through a thick forest of noble trees. for two hours before dark all the equipages in moscow paraded up and down this promenade. these equipages were striking and showy without being handsome, and the russian manner of driving four horses makes a very dashing appearance, the leaders being harnessed with long traces, perhaps twenty feet from the wheel horses, and guided by a lad riding the near leader, the coachman sitting as if nailed to the box, and merely holding the reins. all the rules of good taste, as understood in the capitals of southern europe, were set at defiance; and many a seigneur, who thought he was doing the thing in the very best style, had no idea how much his turnout would have shocked an english whip. but all this extravagance, in my eyes, added much to the effect of the scene; and the star-spangled muscovite who dashed up and down the promenade on horseback, with two calmuc tartars at his heels, attracted more of my attention than the plain gentleman who paced along with his english jockey and quiet elegance of equipment. the stars and decorations of the seigneurs set them off to great advantage; and scores of officers, with their showy uniforms, added brilliancy to the scene, while the footmen made as good an appearance as their masters. on either side of the grand promenade is a walk for foot passengers, and behind this, almost hidden from view by the thick shade of trees, are little cottages, arbours, and tents, furnished with ices and all kinds of refreshments suited to the season. i should have mentioned long since that tea, the very pabulum of all domestic virtues, is the russian's favourite beverage. they say that they have better tea than can be obtained in europe, which they ascribe to the circumstance of its being brought by caravans over land, and saved the exposure of a sea voyage. whether this be the cause or not, if i am any judge they are right as to the superiority of their article; and it was one of the most striking features in the animating scene at pedroski to see family groups distributed about, all over the grounds, under the shade of noble trees, with their large brass urn hissing before them, and taking their tea under the passing gaze of thousands of people with as much unconcern as if by their own firesides. leaving for a moment the thronged promenade, i turned into a thick forest and entered the old chateau of the great peter. there all was solitude; the footman and i had the palace to ourselves. i followed him through the whole range of apartments, in which there was an appearance of staid respectability that quite won my heart, neither of them being any better furnished than one of our oldfashioned country houses. the pomp and show that i saw glittering through the openings in the trees were unknown in the days of the good old peter; the chateau was silent and deserted; the hand that built it was stiff and cold, and the heart that loved it had ceased to beat; old peter was in his grave, and his descendants loved better their splendid palaces on the banks of the neva. when moscow was burning, napoleon fled to this chateau for refuge. i stopped for a moment in the chamber where, by the blaze of the burning city, he dictated his despatches for the capital of france; gave the attendant a ruble, and again mixed with the throng, with whom i rambled up and down the principal promenade, and at eleven o'clock was at my hotel. i ought not to forget the russian ladies; but, after the gay scene at pedroski, it is no disparagement to them if i say that, in my quiet walk home, the dark-eyed gipsy girl was uppermost in my thoughts. the reader may perhaps ask if such is indeed what the traveller finds in russia; "where are the eternal snows that cover the steppes and the immense wastes of that northern empire? that chill the sources of enjoyment, and congeal the very fountains of life?" i answer, they have but just passed by, and they will soon come again; the present is the season of enjoyment; the russians know it to be brief and fleeting, and, like butterflies, unfold themselves to the sun and flutter among the flowers. like them, i made the most of it at moscow. mounted in a drosky, i hurried from church to church, from convent to convent, and from quarter to quarter. but although it is the duty of a traveller to see everything that is to be seen, and although there is a kind of excitement in hurrying from place to place, which he is apt to mistake for pleasure, it is not in this that his real enjoyment is found. his true pleasure is in turning quietly to those things which are interesting to the imagination as well as to the eyes, and so i found myself often turning from the churches and palaces, specimens of architecture and art, to the sainted walls of the kremlin. here were the first and last of my visits; and whenever i sauntered forth without any specific object, perhaps to the neglect of many other places i ought to have seen, my footsteps involuntarily turned thitherward. outside and beneath the walls of the kremlin, and running almost the whole extent of its circumference, are boulevards and a public garden, called the emperor's, made within a few years, and the handsomest thing of the kind in moscow; i am not sure but that i may add anywhere else. i have compared it in my mind to the gardens of the luxembourg and tuileries, and in many respects hold it to be more beautiful. it is more agreeably irregular and undulating in its surface, and has a more rural aspect, and the groves and plants are better arranged, although it has not the statues, lakes, and fountains of the pride of paris. i loved to stroll through this garden, having on one side of me the magnificent buildings of the great russian princes, seigneurs, and merchants, among the finest and most conspicuous of which is the former residence of the unhappy queen of georgia; and on the other side, visible through the foliage of the trees, the white walls of the kremlin, and, towering above them, the domes of the palaces and churches within, and the lofty tower of ivan veliki. thence i loved to stroll to the holy gate of the kremlin. it is a vaulted portal, and over the entrance is a picture, with a lamp constantly burning; and a sentinel is always posted at the gate. i loved to stand by it and see the haughty seigneurs and the degraded serf alike humble themselves on crossing the sacred threshold, and then, with my hat in my hand, follow the footsteps of the venerating russian. once i attempted to brave the interdict, and go in with my head covered; but the soldier at the gate stopped me, and forbade my violating the sacred prohibition. within the walls i wandered about, without any definite object, sometimes entering the great church and beholding for a moment the prostrate russian praying before the image of some saint, or descending to look once more at the great bell, or at other times mounting the tower and gazing at the beautiful panorama of the city. on the last day of my stay in moscow a great crowd drew me to the door of the church, where some fête was in course of celebration, in honour of the birth, marriage, or some other incident in the life of the emperor or empress. the archbishop, a venerable-looking old man, was officiating, and when he came out a double line of men, women, and children was drawn up from the door of the church to his carriage, all pressing forward and struggling to kiss his hands. the crowd dispersed, and i strolled once more through the repository of heirlooms, and imperial reliques and trophies; but, passing by the crowns loaded with jewels, the canopies and thrones adorned with velvet and gold, i paused before the throne of unhappy poland! i have seen great cities desolate and in ruins, magnificent temples buried in the sands of the african desert, and places once teeming with fertility now lying waste and silent; but no monument of fallen greatness ever affected me more than this. it was covered with blue velvet and studded with golden stars. it had been the seat of casimir, and sobieski, and stanislaus augustus. brave men had gathered round it and sworn to defend it, and died in redeeming their pledge. their oaths are registered in heaven, their bodies rest in bloody graves; poland is blotted from the list of nations, and her throne, unspotted with dishonour, brilliant as the stars which glitter on its surface, is exhibited as a russian trophy, before which the stoutest manhood need not blush to drop a tear. toward evening i returned to my favourite place, the porch of the palace of the czars. i seated myself on the step, took out my tablets, and commenced a letter to my friends at home. what should i write? above me was the lofty tower of ivan veliki; below, a solitary soldier, in his gray overcoat, was retiring to a sentry-box to avoid a drizzling rain. his eyes were fixed upon me, and i closed my book. i am not given to musing, but i could not help it. here was the theatre of one of the most extraordinary events in the history of the world. after sixty battles and a march of more than two thousand miles, the grand army of napoleon entered moscow, and found no smoke issuing from a single chimney, nor a muscovite even to gaze upon them from the battlements or walls. moscow was deserted, her magnificent palaces forsaken by their owners, her three hundred thousand inhabitants vanished as if they had never been. silent and amazed, the grand army filed through its desolate streets. approaching the kremlin, a few miserable, ferocious, and intoxicated wretches, left behind as a savage token of the national hatred, poured a volley of musketry from the battlements. at midnight the flames broke out in the city; napoleon, driven from his quarters in the suburbs, hurried to the kremlin, ascended the steps, and entered the door at which i sat. for two days the french soldiers laboured to repress the fierce attempts to burn the city. russian police-officers were seen stirring up the fire with tarred lances; hideous-looking men and women, covered with rags, were wandering like demons amid the flames, armed with torches, and striving to spread the conflagration. at midnight again the whole city was in a blaze; and while the roof of the kremlin was on fire, and the panes of the window against which he leaned were burning to the touch, napoleon watched the course of the flames and exclaimed, "what a tremendous spectacle! these are scythians indeed." amid volumes of smoke and fire, his eyes blinded by the intense heat, and his hands burned in shielding his face from its fury, and traversing streets arched with fire, he escaped from the burning city. russia is not classic ground. it does not stand before us covered with the shadow of great men's deeds. a few centuries ago it was overrun by wandering tribes of barbarians; but what is there in those lands which stand forth on the pages of history, crowned with the glory of their ancient deeds, that, for extraordinary daring, for terrible sublimity, and undaunted patriotism, exceeds the burning of moscow. neither marathon, nor thermopylæ, nor the battle of the horatii, nor the defence of cocles, nor the devotion of the decii, can equal it; and when time shall cover with its dim and quiet glories that bold and extraordinary deed, the burning of moscow will be regarded as outstripping all that we read of grecian or roman patriotism, and the name of the russian governor (rostopchin), if it be not too tough a name to hand down to posterity, will never be forgotten. chapter v. getting a passport.--parting with the marquis.--the language of signs.--a loquacious traveller.--from moscow to st. petersburgh.--the wolga.--novogorod.--newski perspective.--an unfortunate mistake.--northern twilight. unable to remain longer in moscow, i prepared for my journey for st. petersburgh. several diligences run regularly between these two great cities; one of which, the velocifère, is superior to any public conveyance on the continent of europe. i took my place in that, and two days beforehand sent my passport to be _viséd_. i sent for it the next day, and it was not ready. i went myself, and could not get it. i knew that nothing could be done at the russian offices without paying for it, and was ready and willing to do so, and time after time i called the attention of the officer to my passport. he replied coolly, "_dans un instant_," and, turning to something else, kept me waiting two hours; and when at length he took it up and arranged it, he led me down stairs out of sight to receive the expected _douceur_. he was a well-dressed man, with the large government button on his coat, and rather distingué in his appearance and manners. i took the passport, folded it up, and put it in my pocket with a coolness equal to his own, and with malicious pleasure put into his hand a single ruble, equal to twenty cents of our money; he expected at least twenty-five rubles, or about five dollars, and his look of rage and disappointment amply repaid me for all the vexation he had caused by his delay. i bade him farewell with a smile that almost drove him mad. bribery is said to be almost universal among the inferior officers of government, and there is a story of a frenchman in russia which illustrates the system. he had an office, of which the salary was so small that he could not live upon it. at first he would not take bribes, but stern necessity drove him to it, and while he was about it he did the thing handsomely. having overreached the mark, and been guilty of being detected, he was brought before the proper tribunal; and when asked, "why did you take a bribe?" his answer was original and conclusive, "i take, thou takest, he takes, we take, you take, they take!" i told the marquis the story of my parting interview at the police-office, which he said was capital, but startled me by suggesting that, if there should happen to be any irregularity, i would have great trouble in getting it rectified; even this, however, did not disturb my immediate satisfaction, and, fortunately, all was right. the morning of my departure, before i was out of bed, the marquis was in my room. meeting with me had revived in him feelings long since dead; and at the moment of parting he told me, what his pride had till that moment concealed, that his heart yearned once more to his kindred; and that, if he had the means, old as he was, he would go to america. and yet, though his frame trembled and his voice was broken, and his lamp was almost burned out, his spirit was as high as when he fought the battles of the empire; and he told me to say to them that he would not come to be a dependant upon their bounty; that he could repay all they should do for him by teaching their children. he gave me his last painting, which he regarded with the pride of an artist, as a souvenir for his sister; but having no means of carrying it safely, i was obliged to return it to him. he remained with me till the moment of my departure, clung to my hand after i had taken my place in the drosky, and when we had started i looked back and saw him still standing in the road. it seemed as if the last link that bound him to earth was broken. he gave me a letter, which i forwarded to his friends at home; his sister was still living, and had not forgotten her long-lost brother; she had not heard from him in twenty years, and had long believed him dead. pecuniary assistance was immediately sent to him, and, unhappily, since my return home, intelligence has been received that it arrived only at the last moment when human aid could avail him; in time to smooth the pillow of death by the assurance that his friends had not forgotten him. and perhaps, in his dying moments, he remembered me. at all events, it is some satisfaction, amid the recollections of an unprofitable life, to think that, when his checkered career was drawing to its close, i had been the means of gladdening for a moment the old exile's heart. i must not forget my host, the quondam exile to siberia. in his old days his spirit too was chafed at living under despotism, and, like the marquis, he also hoped, before he died, to visit america. i gave him my address, with the hope, but with very little expectation, of seeing him again. a travelling companion once remarked, that if every vagabond to whom i gave my address should find his way to america, i would have a precious set to present to my friends. be it so; there is not a vagabond among them whom i would not be glad to see. my english companion and myself had seen but little of each other at moscow. he intended to remain longer than i did, but changed his mind, and took a place in the same diligence for st. petersburgh. this diligence was the best i ever rode in; and, for a journey of nearly five hundred miles, we could not have been more comfortably arranged. it started at the hour punctually, as from the messagere in paris. we rolled for the last time through the streets of moscow, and in a few minutes passed out at the st. petersburgh gate. our companions were a man about thirty-five, a cattle-driver, with his trousers torn, and his linen hanging out ostentatiously in different places, and an old man about sixty-five, just so far civilized as to have cut off the long beard and put on broadcloth clothes. it was the first time the old man had ever been on a journey from home; everything was new to him, and he seemed puzzled to know what to make of us; he could not comprehend how we could look, and walk, and eat like russians, and not talk like them. my place was directly opposite his, and, as soon as we were seated, he began to talk to me. i looked at him and made no answer; he began again, and went on in an uninterrupted strain for several minutes, more and more surprised that i did not answer, or answered only in unintelligible sounds. after a while he seemed to come to the conclusion that i was deaf and dumb and turned to my companion as to my keeper for an explanation. finding he could do nothing there, he appeared alarmed, and it was some time before he could get a clear idea of the matter. when he did, however, he pulled off an amazingly white glove, took my hand and shook it, pointed to his head, shook it, and touched my head, then put his hand to his heart, then to my heart; all which was to say, that though our heads did not understand each other, our hearts did. but though he saw we did not understand him, he did not on that account stop talking; indeed, he talked incessantly, and the only way of stopping him was to look directly in his face and talk back again; and i read him long lectures, particularly upon the snares and temptations of the world into which he was about to plunge, and wound up with stanzas of poetry and scraps of greek and latin, all which the old man listened to without ever interrupting me, bending his ear as if he expected every moment to catch something he understood; and when i had finished, after a moment's blank expression he whipped off his white glove, took my hand, and touched significantly his head and heart. indeed, a dozen times a day he did this; and particularly whenever we got out, on resuming our seats, as a sort of renewal of the compact of good fellowship, the glove invariably came off, and the significant movement between the hand, head, and heart was repeated. the second day a young seigneur named chickoff, who spoke french, joined the diligence, and through him we had full explanations with the old russian. he always called me the american graff or noble, and said that, after being presented to the emperor, i should go down with him into the country. my worthy comrade appeared at first to be not a little bored by the old man's garrulous humour; but at length, seized by a sudden whim, began, as he said, to teach him english. but such english! he taught him, after a fashion peculiarly his own, the manner of addressing a lady and gentleman in english; and very soon, with the remarkable facility of the russians in acquiring languages, the old man, utterly unconscious of their meaning, repeated the words with extraordinary distinctness; and regularly, when he took his place in the diligence, he accompanied the significant movements of his hand, head, and heart to me with the not very elegant address taught him by my companion. though compelled to smile inwardly at the absurdity of the thing, i could not but feel the inherent impropriety of the conduct of my eccentric fellow-traveller; and ventured to suggest to him that, though he had an undoubted right to do as he pleased in matters that could not implicate me, yet, independent of the very questionable character of the joke itself (for the words savoured more of wapping than of st. james's), as we were known to have travelled together, a portion of the credit of having taught the old russian english might fall upon me--an honour of which i was not covetous, and, therefore, should tell the old man never to repeat the words he had been taught, which i did without assigning any reason for it, and before we arrived at st. petersburgh he had forgotten them. the road from moscow to st. petersburgh is now one of the best in europe. it is macadamized nearly the whole way, and a great part is bordered with trees; the posthouses are generally large and handsome, under the direction of government, where soup, cutlets, &c., are always ready at a moment's notice, at prices regulated by a tariff hanging up in the room, which, however, being written in russian, was of no particular use to us. the country is comparatively thickly settled, and villages are numerous. even on this road, however, the villages are forlorn things, being generally the property and occupied by the serfs of the seigneurs, and consisting of a single long street, with houses on both sides built of logs, the better sort squared, with the gable end to the street, the roofs projecting two or three feet from the houses, and sometimes ornamented with rude carving and small holes for windows. we passed several chateaux, large, imposing buildings, with parks and gardens, and a large church, painted white, with a green dome surmounted by a cross. in many places on the road are chapels with figures of the panagia, or all holy virgin, or some of the saints; and our old russian, constantly on the lookout for them, never passed one without taking off his hat and going through the whole formula of crosses; sometimes, in entering a town, they came upon us in such quick succession, first on one side, then on the other, that, if he had not been engaged in, to him, a sacred ceremony, his hurry and perplexity would have been ludicrous. during the night we saw fires ahead, and a little off the road were the bivouacs of teamsters or wayfarers, who could not pay for lodging in a miserable russian hut. all the way we met the great caravan teams carrying tallow, hides, hemp, and other merchandise to the cities, and bringing back wrought fabrics, groceries, &c., into the interior. they were generally thirty or forty together, one man or woman attending to three or four carts, or, rather, neglecting them, as the driver was generally asleep on the top of his load. the horses, however, seemed to know what they were about; for as the diligence came rolling toward them, before the postillion could reach them with his whip, they intuitively hurried out of the way. the bridges over the streams and rivers are strong, substantial structures, built of heavy hewn granite, with iron balustrades, and ornamented in the centre with the double-headed eagle, the arms of russia. at tver we passed the wolga on a bridge of boats. this noble river, the longest in europe, navigable almost from its source for an extent of four thousand versts, dividing, for a great part of its course, europe and asia, runs majestically through the city, and rolls on, bathing the walls of the city of astrachan, till it reaches the distant caspian; its banks still inhabited by the same tribes of warlike cossacks who hovered on the skirts of the french army during their invasion of russia. by its junction with the tverza, a communication is made between the wolga and neva, or, in other words, between the caspian and baltic. the impetus of internal improvements has extended even to the north of europe, and the emperor nicolas is now actively engaged in directing surveys of the great rivers of russia for the purpose of connecting them by canals and railroads, and opening steam communications throughout the whole interior of his empire. a great number of boats of all sizes, for carrying grain to the capital, were lying off the city. these boats are generally provided with one mast, which, in the largest, may equal a frigate's mainmast. "the weight of the matsail," an english officer remarks, "must be prodigious, having no fewer than one hundred breadths in it; yet the facility with which it is managed bears comparison with that of the yankees with their boom mainsail in their fore-and-aft clippers." the rudder is a ponderous machine, being a broad piece of timber floating astern twelve or fifteen feet, and fastened to the tiller by a pole, which descends perpendicularly into the water; the tiller is from thirty to forty feet long, and the pilot who turns it stands upon a scaffold at that distance from the stern. down the stream a group of cossacks were bathing, and i could not resist the temptation to throw myself for a moment into this king of rivers. the diligence hurried me, and, as it came along, i gathered up my clothes and dressed myself inside. about eighty versts from st. petersburgh we came to the ancient city of novogorod. in the words of an old traveller, "next unto moscow, the city of novogorod is reputed the chiefest in russia; for although it be in majestie inferior to it, yet in greatness it goeth beyond it. it is the chiefest and greatest mart-town of all muscovy; and albeit the emperor's seat is not there, but at moscow, yet the commodiousness of the river, falling into that gulf which is called sinus finnicus, whereby it is well frequented by merchants, makes it more famous than moscow itself." few of the ruined cities of the old world present so striking an appearance of fallen greatness as this comparatively unknown place. there is an ancient saying, "who can resist the gods and novogorod the great?" three centuries ago it covered an area of sixty-three versts in circumference, and contained a population of more than four hundred thousand inhabitants. some parts of it are still in good condition, but the larger portion has fallen to decay. its streets present marks of desolation, mouldering walls, and ruined churches, and its population has dwindled to little more than seven thousand inhabitants. the steeples in this ancient city bear the cross, unaccompanied by the crescent, the proud token showing that the tartars, in all their invasions, never conquered it, while in the reconquered cities the steeples all exhibit the crescent surmounted by the cross. late in the afternoon of the fourth day we were approaching st. petersburgh. the ground is low and flat, and i was disappointed in the first view of the capital of russia; but passing the barrier, and riding up the newski perspective, the most magnificent street in that magnificent city, i felt that the stories of its splendour were not exaggerated, and that this was, indeed, entitled to the proud appellation of the "palmyra of the north." my english companion again stopped at a house kept by an englishwoman and frequented by his countrymen, and i took an apartment at a hotel in a broad street with an unpronounceable russian name, a little off the newski perspective. i was worn and fatigued with my journey, but i could not resist the inclination to take a gentle promenade along the newski perspective. while in the coffee-room refreshing myself with a cup of the best russian tea, i heard some one outside the door giving directions to a tailor, and presently a man entered, whom, without looking at him, i told he was just the person i wanted to see, as i had a pair of pantaloons to be mended. he made no answer, and, without being able to see distinctly, i told him to wait till i could go up stairs and change them, and that he must mend them strongly and bring them back in the morning. in all probability, the next moment i should have been sprawling on the floor; but the landlady, a clever frenchwoman, who saw my error stepped up, and crying out, "ah, monsieur colonel, attendez, attendez," explained my mistake as clearly as i could have done myself, and i followed closely with an apology, adding that my remark could not be intended as disrespectful to him, inasmuch as even then, with the windows closed, i could scarcely distinguish his person. he understood the thing at once, accepted my apology with great frankness, and, instead of knocking me down, or challenging me to fight with sabre or some other diabolical thing, finding i was a stranger just arrived from moscow, sat down at the table, and before we rose offered to accompany me in my walk. there could be no mistake as to the caste of my new friend. the landlady had called him colonel, and, in repelling the imputation of his being a tailor, had spoken of him as a rich seigneur, who for ten years had occupied the front apartments _au premier_ in her hotel. we walked out into the newski perspective, and strolled along that magnificent street down to the admiralty, and along the noble quays of the neva. i had reached the terminus of my journey; for many months i had been moving farther and farther away, and the next step i took would carry me toward home. it was the eve of the fourth of july; and as i strolled through the broad streets and looked up at the long ranges of magnificent buildings, i poured into the ear of my companion the recollections connected with this moment at home: in boyhood, crackers and fireworks in readiness for the great jubilee of the morrow; and, latterly, the excursion into the country to avoid the bustle and confusion of "the glorious fourth." at moscow and during the journey i had admired the exceeding beauty of the twilight in these northern latitudes but this night in st. petersburgh it was magnificent. i cannot describe the peculiar shades of this northern twilight. it is as if the glare and brilliancy of the sun were softened by the mellowing influence of the moon, and the city, with its superb ranges of palaces, its statues, its bridges, and its clear and rapid river, seemed, under the reflection of that northern light, of a brilliant and almost unearthly beauty. i felt like rambling all night. even though worn with three days' travel, it was with me as with a young lady at her first ball; the night was too short. i could not bear to throw it away in sleep. my companion was tough, and by no means sentimental, and the scene was familiar to him; but he told me that, even in his eyes, it never lost its interest. moonlight is something, but this glorious twilight is a thing to enjoy and to remember; and, as the colonel remarked when we sat down in his apartment to a comfortable supper, it always gave him such an appetite. after supper i walked through a long corridor to my apartment, threw myself upon my bed and tried to sleep, but the mellow twilight poured through my window and reproached me with the base attempt. i was not restless, but i could not sleep; lest, however, the reader should find himself of a different humour, i will consider myself asleep the first night in st. petersburgh. chapter vi. police requisites.--the russian capital.--equestrian statue of peter the great.--the alexandrine column.--architectural wonders.--the summer islands.--a perilous achievement.--origin of st. petersburgh.--tombs of dead monarchs.--origin of the russian navy. july fourth. i had intended to pass this day at moscow, and to commemorate it in napoleon style by issuing a bulletin from the kremlin, but it was a long time since i had heard from home. at constantinople i had written to paris, directing my letters to be sent to petersburgh, and, notwithstanding my late hours the night before, i was at the postoffice before the door was open. i had never been so long without hearing from home, and my lips quivered when i asked for letters, my hand shook when i received them, and i hardly drew breath until i had finished the last postscript. my next business was at the bureau of general police for a _carte de sejour_, without which no stranger can remain in st. petersburgh. as usual, i was questioned as to my reasons for coming into russia; age, time of sojourn, destination, &c.; and, satisfied that i had no intention of preaching democratic doctrines or subverting the government of the autocrat, i received permission to remain two weeks, which, according to direction, i gave to my landlord to be entered at the police-office of his district. as no stranger can stay in petersburgh without permission, neither can he leave without it; and, to obtain this, he must advertise three times in the government gazette, stating his name, address, and intention of leaving the empire; and as the gazette is only published twice a week, this formality occupies eight days. one of the objects of this is to apprize his creditors, and give them an opportunity of securing their debts; and few things show the barbarity and imperfect civilization of the russians more clearly than this; making it utterly impossible for a gentleman to spend a winter in st. petersburgh and go away without paying his landlord. this must prevent many a soaring spirit from wending its way hither, and keep the residents from being enlivened by the flight of those birds of passage which dazzle the eyes of the denizens of other cities. as there was no other way of getting out of the dominions of the czar, i caused my name and intention to be advertised. it did not create much of a sensation; and though it was proclaimed in three different languages, no one except my landlord seemed to feel any interest in it. after all, to get in debt is the true way to make friends; a man's creditors always feel an interest in him; hope no misfortune may happen to him, and always wish him prosperity and success. these formalities over, i turned to other things. different from every other principal city i had visited, st. petersburgh had no storied associations to interest the traveller. there is no colosseum, as at rome; no acropolis, as at athens; no rialto, as at venice; and no kremlin, as at moscow; nothing identified with the men and scenes hallowed in our eyes, and nothing that can touch the heart. it depends entirely upon itself for the interest it creates in the mind of the traveller. st. petersburgh is situated at the mouth of the neva, at the eastern extremity of the gulf of finland. it is built partly on islands formed by the neva, and partly on both sides of that river. but little more than a century ago, the ground now covered with stately palaces consisted of wild morasses and primeval forests, and a few huts tenanted by savage natives, who lived upon the fish of the sea. in seventeen hundred and three peter the great appeared as a captain of grenadiers under the orders of one of his own generals, on the wild and dreary banks of the neva, drove the swedes from their fortress at its mouth, cut down the forests on the rude islands of the river, and laid the foundations of a city which now surpasses in architectural magnificence every other in the world. i do not believe that rome, when adrian reared the mighty colosseum, and the palace of the cæsars covered the capitoline hill, exhibited such a range of noble structures as now exists in the admiralty quarter. the admiralty itself is the central point, on one side fronting the neva, and on the other a large open square, and has a façade of marble, with ranges of columns, a quarter of a mile in length. a beautiful golden spire shoots up from the centre, towering above every other object, and seen from every part of the city glittering in the sun; and three principal streets, each two miles in length, radiate from this point. in front is a range of boulevards, ornamented with trees, and an open square, at one extremity of which stands the great church of st. isaac, of marble, jasper, and porphyry, upon a foundation of granite; it has been once destroyed, and reared again with increased splendour, enormous columns of a single block of red granite already lifting their capitals in the air. on the right of the façade, and near the isaac bridge, itself a magnificent structure, a thousand and fifty feet long and sixty feet wide, with two drawbridges, stands the well-known equestrian statue of peter the great. the huge block of granite forming the pedestal is fifteen hundred tons in weight. the height of the figure of the emperor is eleven feet, that of the horse seventeen feet, and the weight of the metal in the group nearly thirty-seven thousand pounds. both the idea and the execution of this superb monument are regarded as masterpieces of genius. to immortalize the enterprise and personal courage with which that extraordinary man conquered all difficulties and converted a few fishermen's huts into palaces, peter is represented on a fiery steed, rushing up a steep and precipitous rock to the very brink of a precipice; the horse rears with his fore feet in the air, and seems to be impatient of restraint, while the imperial rider, in an attitude of triumph, extends the hand of protection over his capital rising out of the waters. to aid the inspiration of the artist, a russian officer, the boldest rider of his time, daily rode the wildest arabian of count orloff's stud to the summit of a steep mound, where he halted him suddenly, with his forelegs raised pawing the air over the brink of the precipice. the monument is surrounded by an iron railing, and the pedestal bears the simple inscription, petro primo, catharina secunda, mdcclxxxii. on the other side of the square, and in front of the winter palace, raised within the last two years, and the most gigantic work of modern days, rivalling those magnificent monuments in the old world whose ruins now startle the wondering traveller, and towering to the heavens, as if to proclaim that the days of architectural greatness are not gone by for ever, is the great alexandrine column, a single shaft of red granite, exclusive of pedestal and capital, eighty-four feet high. on the summit stands an angel holding a cross with the left hand, and pointing to heaven with the right. the pedestal contains the simple inscription, "to alexander i. grateful russia." [illustration: column of alexander i.] surrounding this is a crescent of lofty buildings, denominated the etat major, its central portion having before it a majestic colonnade of the corinthian order, placed on a high rustic basement, with a balustrade of solid bronze gilt between the columns. in the middle is a triumphal arch, which, with its frieze, reaches nearly to the upper part of the lofty building, having a span of seventy feet, the entablature sculptured with military trophies, allegorical figures, and groups in alto relievo. next on a line with the admiralty, and fronting the quay, stands the first of a long range of imperial palaces, extending in the form of a crescent for more than a mile along the neva. the winter palace is a gigantic and princely structure, built of marble, with a façade of seven hundred and forty feet. next are the two palaces of the hermitage, connected with it and with each other by covered galleries on bold arches; the beautiful and tasteful fronts of these palaces are strangely in contrast with their simple and unpretending name. next is the stately grecian theatre of the hermitage. beyond this are the barracks of the guards, then the palace of the french ambassador, then the marble palace built by catharine ii. for her favourite, prince orloff, with a basement of granite and superstructure of bluish marble, ornamented with marble columns and pillars. in this palace died stanislaus poniatowsky, the last of the polish sovereigns. this magnificent range, presenting an uninterrupted front of marble palaces upward of a mile in length, unequalled in any city in the world, is terminated by an open square, in which stands a colossal statue of suwarrow; beyond this, still on the neva, is the beautiful summer garden fronting the palace of paul ii.; and near it, and at the upper end of the square, is the palace of the grand-duke michael. opposite is the citadel, with its low bastions of solid granite, washed all around by the neva; beautiful in its structure, and beautifully decorated by the tall, slender, and richly gilded spire of its church. on the one side of the admiralty is the senatorial palace, and beyond opens the english quay, with a range of buildings that might well be called the residence of "merchant princes;" while the opposite bank is crowded with public buildings, among which the most conspicuous are the palace of the academy of the fine arts; the obelisk, rising in the centre of a wide square, recording the glory of some long-named russian hero; the building of the naval cadet corps, with its handsome front, and the barracks of the guard of finland; finally, the great pile of palace-like buildings belonging to the military cadet corps, reaching nearly to the palace of the academy of sciences, and terminating with the magnificent grecian front of the exchange. i know that a verbal description can give but a faint idea of the character of this scene, nor would it help the understanding of it to say that it exhibits all that wealth and architectural skill can do, for few in our country know what even these powerful engines can effect; as for myself, hardly noting the details, it was my greatest delight to walk daily to the bridge across the neva, at the summer gardens, the view from which more than realized all the crude and imperfect notions of architectural magnificence that had ever floated through my mind; a result that i had never found in any other city i had yet seen, not excepting venice the rich or genoa the proud, although the latter is designated in guide-books the city of palaces. next to the palaces in solidity and beauty of structure are the bridges crossing the neva, and the magnificent quays along its course, these last being embankments of solid granite, lining the stream on either side the whole length of its winding course through the city. i was always at a loss whether to ride or walk in st. petersburgh; sometimes i mounted a drosky and rode up and down the newski perspective, merely for the sake of rolling over the wooden pavement. this street is perhaps more than twice as wide as broadway; the gutter is in the middle, and on each side are wooden pavements wide enough for vehicles to pass each other freely. the experiment of wooden pavements was first made in this street, and found to answer so well that it has since been introduced into many others; and as the frost is more severe than with us, and it has stood the test of a russian winter, if rightly constructed it will, no doubt, prove equally successful in our own city. the road is first covered with broken stone, or macadamized; then logs are laid across it, the interstices being filled up with sand and stone, and upon this are placed hexagonal blocks of pine about eighteen inches long, fitted like joiner's work, fastened with long pegs, and covered with a preparation of melted lead. when i left paris i had no expectation of travelling in russia, and, consequently, had no letter of introduction to mr. wilkins, our minister; but, long before reaching st. petersburgh, i had made it a rule, immediately on my arrival in a strange place, to call upon our representative, whatever he might be, from a minister plenipotentiary down to a little greek consul. i did so here, and was probably as well received upon my own introduction as if i had been recommended by letter; for i got from mr. wilkins the invitation to dinner usually consequent upon a letter, and besides much interesting information from home, and, more than all, a budget of new-york newspapers. it was a long time since i had seen a new-york paper, and i hailed all the well-known names, informed myself of every house to let, every vessel to sail, all the cotton in market, and a new kind of shaving-soap for sale at hart's bazar; read with particular interest the sales of real estate by james bleecker and sons; wondered at the rapid increase of the city in creating a demand for building lots in one hundred and twenty-seventh street, and reflected that some of my old friends had probably grown so rich that they would not recognise me on my return. having made arrangements for the afternoon to visit the summer islands, i dined with my friend the colonel, in company with prince ---(i have his name in my pocketbook, written by himself, and could give a facsimile of it, but i could not spell it). the prince was about forty-five, a high-toned gentleman, a nobleman in his feelings, and courtly in his manners, though, for a prince, rather out at elbows in fortune. the colonel and he had been fellow-soldiers, had served in the guards during the whole of the french invasion, and entered paris with the allied armies as officers in the same regiment. like most of the russian seigneurs, they had run through their fortunes in their military career. the colonel, however, had been set up again by an inheritance from a deceased relative, but the prince remained ruined. he was now living upon a fragment saved from the wreck of his estate, a pension for his military services, and the bitter experience acquired by a course of youthful extravagance. like many of the reduced russian seigneurs, he was disaffected toward the government, and liberal in politics; he was a warm admirer of liberal institutions, had speculated upon and studied them both in france and america, and analyzed understandingly the spirit of liberty as developed by the american and french revolutions; when he talked of washington, he folded his hands and looked up to heaven, as if utterly unable to express the fulness of his emotions. with us, the story of our revolution is a hackneyed theme, and even the sacred name of washington has become almost commonplace; but the freshness of feeling with which the prince spoke of him invested him in my eyes with a new and holy character. after dinner, and while on our way to the summer islands, we stopped at his apartments, when he showed me the picture of washington conspicuous on the wall; under it, by way of contrast, was that of napoleon; and he summed up the characters of both in few words, by saying that the one was all for himself, the other all for his country. the summer islands on sundays and fête days are the great promenade of the residents of the capital, and the approach to them is either by land or water. we preferred the latter, and at the admiralty took a boat on the neva. all along the quay are flights of steps cut in the granite, and descending to a granite platform, where boats are constantly in attendance for passengers. these boats are fantastically painted, and have the stern raised some three or four feet; sometimes they are covered with an awning. the oar is of disproportionate thickness toward the handle, the blade very broad, always feathered in rowing, and the boatman, in his calico or linen shirt and pantaloons, his long yellowish beard and mustaches, looks like anything but the gondolier of venice. in passing down the neva i noticed, about half way between low-water mark and the top of the quay, a ring which serves to fasten vessels, and is the mark, to which if the water rises, an inundation may be expected. the police are always on the watch, and the fearful moment is announced by the firing of cannon, by the display of white flags from the admiralty steeple by day, and by lanterns and the tolling of the bells at night. in the last dreadful inundation of eighteen hundred and twenty-four, bridges were swept away, boats floated in some parts of the town above the tops of the houses, and many villages were entirely destroyed. at cronstadt, a vessel of one hundred tons was left in the middle of one of the principal streets; eight thousand dead bodies were found and buried, and probably many thousands more were hurried on to the waters of the gulf of finland. it was a fête day in honour of some church festival, and a great portion of the population of st. petersburgh was bending its way toward the summer islands. the emperor and empress were expected to honour the promenade with their presence, and all along the quay boats were shooting out loaded with gay parties, and, as they approached the islands, they formed into a fleet, almost covering the surface of the river. we were obliged to wait till perhaps a dozen boats had discharged their passengers before we could land. these islands are formed by the branches of the neva, at about three versts from st. petersburgh. they are beautifully laid out in grass and gravel-walks, ornamented with trees, lakes, shrubs, and flowers, connected together by light and elegant bridges, and adorned with beautiful little summer-houses. these summer-houses are perfectly captivating; light and airy in their construction, and completely buried among the trees. as we walked along we heard music or gentle voices, and now and then came upon a charming cottage, with a beautiful lawn or garden, just enough exposed to let the passer-by imagine what he pleased; and on the lawn was a light fanciful tent, or an arbour hung with foliage, under which the occupants, with perhaps a party of friends from the city, were taking tea, and groups of rosy children were romping around them, while thousands were passing by and looking on, with as perfect an appearance of domestic _abandon_ as if in the privacy of the fireside. i have sometimes reproached myself that my humour changed with every passing scene; but, inasmuch as it generally tended toward at least a momentary satisfaction, i did not seek to check it; and though, from habit and education, i would have shrunk from such a family exhibition, here it was perfectly delightful. it seemed like going back to a simpler and purer age. the gay and smiling faces seemed to indicate happy hearts; and when i saw a mother playing on the green with a little cherub daughter, i felt how i hung upon the community, a loose and disjointed member, and would fain have added myself to some cheerful family group. a little farther on, however, i saw a papa flogging a chubby urchin, who drowned with his bellowing the music from a neighbouring arbour, which somewhat broke the charm of this public exhibition of scenes of domestic life. besides these little retiring-places or summer residences of citizens, restaurants and houses of refreshments were distributed in great abundance, and numerous groups were sitting under the shade of trees or arbours, taking ices or refreshments; and the grounds for promenade were so large and beautifully disposed, that, although thousands were walking through them, there was no crowd, except before the door of a principal refectory, where a rope-dancer was flourishing in the air among the tops of the trees. in addition to the many enchanting retreats and summer residences created by the taste, luxury, and wealth of private individuals, there are summer theatres and imperial villas. but the gem of the islands is the little imperial palace at cammenoi. i have walked through royal palaces, and admired their state and magnificence without one wish to possess them, but i felt a strong yearning toward this imperial villa. it is not so grand and stately as to freeze and chill one, but a thing of extraordinary simplicity and elegance, in a beautifully picturesque situation, heightened by a charming disposition of lawn and trees, so elegant, and, if i may add such an unpoetical word in the description of this imperial residence, so comfortable, that i told the prince if i were a rasselas escaped from the happy valley, i would look no farther for a resting-place. the prince replied that in the good old days of russian barbarism, when a queen swayed the sceptre, russia had been a great field for enterprising and adventurous young men, and in more than one instance a palace had been the reward of a favourite. we gave a sigh to the memory of those good old days, and at eleven o'clock returned to the city on the top of an omnibus. the whole road from the summer islands and the great street leading to the admiralty were lighted with little glass lamps, arranged on the sidewalks about six feet apart, but they almost realized the conceit of illuminating the sun by hanging candles around it, seeming ashamed of their own sickly glare and struggling vainly with the glorious twilight. the next morning the valet who had taken me as his master, and who told others in the house that he could not attend to them, as he was in my service, informed me that a traveller arrived from warsaw the night before had taken apartments in the same hotel, and could give me all necessary information in regard to that route; and, after breakfast, i sent him, with my compliments, to ask the traveller if he would admit me, and shortly after called myself. he was a young man, under thirty, above the middle size, strong and robust of frame, with good features, light complexion, but very much freckled, a head of extraordinary red hair, and a mustache of the same brilliant colour; and he was dressed in a coloured stuff morning-gown, and smoking a pipe with an air of no small dignity and importance. i explained the purpose of my visit, and he gave me as precise information as could possibly be had; and the most gratifying part of the interview was, that before we separated he told me that he intended returning to warsaw in about ten days, and would be happy to have me bear him company. i gladly embraced his offer, and left him, better pleased with the result of my interview than i had expected from his rather unprepossessing appearance. he was a frenchman by descent, born in belgium, and educated and resident in poland, and possessed in a striking degree the compounded amor patriæ incident to the relationship in which he stood to these three countries. but, as i shall be obliged to speak of him frequently hereafter, i will leave him for the present to his morning-gown and pipe. well pleased with having my plans arranged, i went out without any specific object, and found myself on the banks of the neva. directly opposite the winter palace, and one of the most conspicuous objects on the whole line of the neva, is the citadel or old fortress, and, in reality, the foundation of the city. i looked long and intently on the golden spire of its church, shooting toward the sky and glittering in the sun. this spire, which rises tapering till it seems almost to fade away into nothing, is surmounted by a large globe, on which stands an angel supporting a cross. this angel, being made of corruptible stuff, once manifested symptoms of decay, and fears were entertained that he would soon be numbered with the fallen. government became perplexed how to repair it, for to raise a scaffolding to such a height would cost more than the angel was worth. among the crowd which daily assembled to gaze at it from below was a roofer of houses, who, after a long and silent examination, went to the government and offered to repair it without any scaffolding or assistance of any kind. his offer was accepted; and on the day appointed for the attempt, provided with nothing but a coil of cords, he ascended inside to the highest window, and, looking for a moment at the crowd below and at the spire tapering away above him, stood up on the outer ledge of the window. the spire was covered with sheets of gilded copper, which, to beholders from below, presented only a smooth surface of burnished gold; but the sheets were roughly laid, and fastened by large nails, which projected from the sides of the spire. he cut two pieces of cord, and tied loops at each end of both, fastened the upper loops over two projecting nails, and stood with his feet in the lower; then, clinching the fingers of one hand over the rough edges of the sheets of copper, raised himself till he could hitch one of the loops on a higher nail with the other hand; he did the same for the other loop, and so he raised one leg after the other, and at length ascended, nail by nail, and stirrup by stirrup, till he clasped his arms around the spire directly under the ball. here it seemed impossible to go any farther, for the ball was ten or twelve feet in circumference, with a smooth and glittering surface, and no projecting nails, and the angel was above the ball, as completely out of sight as if it were in the habitation of its prototypes. but the daring roofer was not disheartened. raising himself in his stirrups, he encircled the spire with a cord, which he tied round his waist; and, so supported, leaned gradually back until the soles of his feet were braced against the spire, and his body fixed almost horizontally in the air. in this position he threw a cord over the top of the ball, and threw it so coolly and skilfully that at the first attempt it fell down on the other side, just as he wanted it; then he drew himself up to his original position, and, by means of his cord, climbed over the smooth sides of the globe, and in a few moments, amid thunders of applause from the crowd below, which at that great height sounded only like a faint murmur, he stood by the side of the angel. after attaching a cord to it he descended, and the next day carried up with him a ladder of ropes, and effected the necessary repairs. but to return. with my eyes fixed upon the spire, i crossed the bridge and entered the gate of the fortress. it is built on a small island, fortified by five bastions, which, on the land side, are mere ramparts connected with st. petersburgh quarter by drawbridges, and on the river side it is surrounded by walls cased with granite, in the centre of which is a large gate or sallyport. as a fortress, it is now useless; but it is a striking object of embellishment to the river, and an interesting monument in the history of the city. peter himself selected this spot for his citadel and the foundation of his city. at that time it contained two fishing-huts in ruins, the only original habitations on the island. it was necessary to cut down the trees, and elevate the surface of the island with dirt and stone brought from other places before he commenced building the fortress; and the labour of the work was immense, no less than forty thousand workmen being employed at one time. soldiers, swedish prisoners, ingrians, carelians, and cossacks, tartars and calmucs, were brought from their distant solitudes to lay the foundation of the imperial city, labouring entirely destitute of all the comforts of life, sleeping on the damp ground and in the open air, often without being able, in that wilderness, to procure their daily meal; and, moreover, without pickaxes, spades, or other instruments of labour, and using only their bare hands for digging; but, in spite of all this, the work advanced with amazing rapidity, and in four months the fortress was completed. the principal objects of interest it now contains are the imperial mint and the cathedral of st. peter and st. paul. brought up in a community where "making money" is the great business of life, i ought, perhaps, to have entered the former, but i turned away from the ingots of gold and silver, and entered the old church, the burial-place of peter the great, and nearly all the czars and czarinas, emperors and empresses, since his time. around the walls were arranged flags and banners, trophies taken in war, principally from the turks, waving mournfully over the tombs of the dead. a sombre light broke through the lofty windows, and i moved directly to the tomb of peter. it is near the great altar, of plain marble, in the shape of a square coffin, without any ornament but a gold plate, on one end of which are engraved his name and title; and at the moment of my entrance an old russian was dusting it with a brush. it was with a mingled feeling of veneration and awe that i stood by the tomb of peter. i had always felt a profound admiration for this extraordinary man, one of those prodigies of nature which appear on the earth only once in many centuries; a combination of greatness and cruelty, the sternness of whose temper spared neither age nor sex, nor the dearest ties of kindred; whose single mind changed the face of an immense empire and the character of millions, and yet who often remarked with bitter compunction, "i can reform my people, but i cannot reform myself." by his side lies the body of his wife, catharine i., the beautiful livonian, the daughter of a peasant girl, and the wife of a common soldier, who, by a wonderful train of events, was raised to wield the sceptre of a gigantic empire. her fascination soothed the savage peter in his moodiest hours. she was the mediatrix between the stern monarch and his subjects; mercy was ever on her lips, and one who knew her well writes what might be inscribed in letters of gold upon her tomb: "she was a pretty, well-looked woman, but not of that sublimity of wit, or, rather, that quickness of imagination which some people have supposed. the great reason why the czar was so fond of her was her exceeding good temper; she never was seen peevish or out of humour; obliging and civil to all, and never forgetful of her former condition, and withal mighty grateful." near their imperial parents lie the bodies of their two daughters, anne of holstein and the empress elizabeth. peter, on his deathbed, in an interval of delirium, called to him his daughter anne, as it was supposed, with the intention of settling upon her the crown, but suddenly relapsed into insensibility; and anne, brought up in the expectation of two crowns, died in exile, leaving one son, the unfortunate peter iii. elizabeth died on the throne, a motley character of goodness, indolence, and voluptuousness, and extremely admired for her great personal attractions. she was never married, but, as she frequently owned to her confidants, never happy but when in love. she was so tender of heart that she made a vow to inflict no capital punishment during her reign; shed tears upon the news of every victory gained by her troops, from the reflection that it could not have been gained without bloodshed, and would never give her consent for the execution of a felon, however deserving; and yet she condemned two noble ladies, one of them the most beautiful woman in russia, to receive fifty strokes of the knout in the open square of st. petersburgh. i strolled for a few moments among the other imperial sepulchres, and returned to the tombs of peter's family. separate monuments are erected over their bodies, all in the shape of large oblong tombstones, ornamented with gold, and enclosed by high iron railings. as i leaned against the railing of peter's tomb, i missed one member of his imperial family. it was an awful chasm. where was his firstborn child and only son? the presumptive heir of his throne and empire? early the object of his unnatural prejudice, excluded from the throne, imprisoned, tortured, tried, condemned, sentenced to death by the stern decree of his offended father! the ill-starred alexius lies in the vaults of the church, in the imperial sepulchre, but without any tomb or inscription to perpetuate the recollection of his unhappy existence. and there is something awful in the juxtaposition of the dead; he lies by the side of his unhappy consort, the amiable princess charlotte, who died the victim of his brutal neglect; so subdued by affliction that, in a most affecting farewell to peter, unwilling to disturb the tranquillity of her last hour, she never mentioned his name, and welcomed death as a release from her sufferings. leaving the church, i went to a detached building within the fortress, where is preserved, in a separate building, a four-oared boat, as a memorial of the origin of the russian navy. its history is interesting. about the year 1691 peter saw this boat at a village near moscow; and inquiring the cause of its being built differently from those he was in the habit of seeing, learned that it was contrived to go against the wind. under the direction of brandt, the dutch shipwright who built it, he acquired the art of managing it. he afterward had a large pleasure-yacht constructed after the same model, and from this beginning went on till he surprised all europe by a large fleet on the baltic and the black sea. twenty years afterward he had it brought up from moscow, and gave a grand public entertainment, which he called the consecration of the "little grandsire." the fleet, consisting of twenty-seven men-of-war, was arranged at cronstadt in the shape of a half moon. peter embarked in the little grandsire, himself steering, and three admirals and prince mendzikoff rowing, and made a circuit in the gulf, passing by the fleet, the ships striking their flags and saluting it with their guns, while the little grandsire returned each salute by a discharge of three small pieces. it was then towed up to st. petersburgh, where its arrival was celebrated by a masquerade upon the waters, and, peter again steering, the boat proceeded to the fortress, and under a discharge of all the artillery it was deposited where it now lies. returning, i took a bath in the neva. in bathing, as in everything else, the russians profit by the short breath of summer, and large public bathing-houses are stationed at intervals along the quay of the river, besides several smaller ones, tasteful and ornamental in appearance, being the private property of rich seigneurs. i went into one of the former, where a swimming-master was teaching a school of boys the art of swimming. the water of the neva was the first thing i had found regularly russian, that is, excessively cold; and though i bathed in it several times afterward, i always found it the same. at five o'clock i went to dine with mr. wilkins. he had broken up his establishment and taken apartments at the house of an english lady, where he lived much in the same style as at home. he had been at st. petersburgh but a short time, and, i believe, was not particularly well pleased with it, and was then making arrangements to return. i had never met with mr. wilkins in our own country, and i consider myself under obligations to him; for, not bringing him any letter, i stood an entire stranger in st. petersburgh, with nothing but my passport to show that i was an american citizen, and he might have even avoided the dinner, or have given me the dinner and troubled himself no more about me. but the politeness which he had shown me as a stranger increased to kindness; and i was in the habit of calling upon him at all times, and certainly without any expectation of ever putting him in print. we had at table a parti quarré, consisting of mr. wilkins, mr. gibson, who has been our consul, i believe, for twenty years, if, he being still a bachelor, it be not unfriendly to carry him back so far, and mr. clay, the secretary of legation, who had been twice left as chargé d'affaires at the imperial court, and was then lately married to an english lady in st. petersburgh. after dinner, three or four american merchants came in; and at eleven o'clock, having made an appointment to go with mr. wilkins and see a boatrace on the neva, mr. clay and i walked home along the quay, under that enchanting twilight which i have already so often thrust upon the reader, and which i only regret that i cannot make him realize and enjoy. chapter vii. a new friend.--the winter palace.--importance of a hat.--an artificial mine.--remains of a huge monster.--peter the great's workshop.--the greek religion.--tomb of a hero.--a saint militant.--another love affair.--the hermitage.--the winter and summer gardens. early in the morning, while at breakfast, i heard a loud knock at my door, which was opened without waiting for an answer, and in stalked a tall, stout, dashing-looking young man, with a blue frock, white pantaloons, and a vest of many colours, a heavy gold chain around his neck, an enormous indian cane in his hand, and a broad-brimmed hat brought down on one side, over his right eye in particular. he had a terrible scowl on his face, which seemed to be put on to sustain the dignity of his amazing costume, and he bowed on his entrance with as much _hauteur_ as if he meant to turn me out of my own room. i stared at him in unfeigned astonishment, when, putting his cane under his arm, and pulling off his hat, his intensely red head broke upon me with a blaze of beauty, and i recognised my friend and intended fellow-traveller, the french belgian pole, whom i had seen in an old morning-gown and slippers. i saw through my man at once; and speedily knocking in the head his overwhelming formality, came upon him with the old college salutation, asking him to pull off his clothes and stay a week; and he complied almost literally, for in less than ten minutes he had off his coat and waistcoat, cravat and boots, and was kicking up his heels on my bed. i soon discovered that he was a capital fellow, a great beau in his little town on the frontiers of poland, and one of a class by no means uncommon, that of the very ugly men who imagine themselves very handsome. while he was kicking his heels over the footboard, he asked me what we thought of red hair in america; and i told him that i could not undertake to speak the public voice, but that, for myself, i did not admire it as much as some people did, though, as to his, there was something striking about it, which was strictly true, for it was such an enormous mop that, as his head lay on the pillow, it looked like a bust set in a large red frame. all the time he held in his hand a pocket looking-glass and a small brush, with which he kept brushing his mustaches, giving them a peculiar twirl toward the ears. i told him that he was wrong about the mustache; and, taking the brush, brought them out of their twist, and gave them an inclination à la turque, recommending my own as a model; but he soon got them back to their place, and, rising, shook his gory locks and began to dress himself, or, as he said, to put himself in parchment for a walk. my new friend was for no small game, and proposed visiting some of the palaces. on the way he confided to me a conquest he had already made since his arrival; a beautiful young lady, of course, the daughter of an italian music-master, who resided directly opposite our hotel. he said he had applied for an apartment next to mine, which commanded a view of the window at which she sat, and asked me, as a friend, whether it would be interfering with me. having received my assurance that i had no intentions in that quarter, he said he would order his effects to be removed the same day. by this time we had arrived at the winter palace, presenting, as i have before remarked, a marble front on the neva of more than seven hundred feet, or as long as the side of washington square, and larger and more imposing than that of the tuileries or any other royal palace in europe. we approached the large door of entrance to this stately pile, and, notwithstanding my modest application, backed by my companion's dashing exterior, we were turned away by the imperial footman because we had not on dresscoats. we went home and soon returned equipped as the law of etiquette requires, and were admitted to the imperial residence. we ascended the principal story by the great marble staircase, remarkable for its magnificence and the grandeur of its architecture. there are nearly a hundred principal rooms on the first floor, occupying an area of four hundred thousand square feet, and forming almost a labyrinth of splendour. the great banqueting-hall is one hundred and eighty-nine feet by one hundred and ten, incrusted with the finest marble, with a row of columns at each end, and the side decorated with attached columns, rich gilding, and splendid mirrors. the great hall of st. george is one of the richest and most superb rooms on the continent, not excepting the pride of the tuileries or versailles. it is a parallelogram of one hundred and forty feet by sixty, decorated with forty fluted corinthian columns of porphyritic marble, with capitals and bases of bronze richly gilded, and supporting a gallery with a gilded bronze balustrade of exquisite workmanship. at one end, on a platform, is the throne, approached by a flight of eight steps, covered with the richest genoa velvet, embroidered with gold, with the double-headed eagle expanding his wings above it. the large windows on both sides are hung with the richest drapery, and the room is embellished by magnificent mirrors and colossal candelabra profusely gilded. we passed on to the _salle blanche_, which is nearly of the same dimensions, and beautifully chaste in design and finish. its elevation is greater, and the sides are decorated with pilasters, columns, and bas-reliefs of a soft white tint, without the least admixture of gaudy colours. the space between the hall of st. george and the _salle blanche_ is occupied as a gallery of national portraits, where the russians who distinguished themselves during the french invasion are exhibited in half-length portraits as rewards for their military services. the three field-marshals, kutuzow, barclay de tolly, and the duke of wellington, are represented at full length. the symbol which accompanies the hero of waterloo is that of imperishable strength, the british oak, "the triumpher of many storms." i will not carry the reader through all the magnificent apartments, but i cannot help mentioning the diamond room, containing the crowns and jewels of the imperial family. diamonds, rubies, and emeralds are arranged round the room in small cases, of such dazzling beauty that it is almost bewildering to look at them. i had already acquired almost a passion for gazing at precious stones. at constantinople i had wandered through the bazars, under the guidance of a jew, and seen all the diamonds collected and for sale in the capital of the east, but i was astonished at the brilliancy of this little chamber, and, in my strongly-awakened admiration, looked upon the miser who, before the degrading days of bonds and mortgages, converted his wealth into jewels and precious stones, as a man of elegant and refined taste. the crown of the emperor is adorned with a chaplet of oak-leaves made of diamonds of an extraordinary size, and the imperial sceptre contains one supposed to be the largest in the world, being the celebrated stone purchased by the empress catharine ii. from a greek slave for four hundred and fifty thousand rubles and a large pension for life. eighty thousand persons were employed in the construction of this palace; upward of two thousand habitually reside in it, and even a larger number when the emperor is in st. petersburgh. the imperial flag was then floating from the top of the palace, as an indication to his subjects of his majesty's presence in the capital; and about the time that his majesty sat down to his royal dinner we were working upon a cotelette de mouton, and drinking in vin ordinaire health and long life to nicolas the first; and afterward, in talking of the splendour of the imperial palace and the courtesy of the imperial footmen, we added health and long life to the lady autocrat and all the little autocrats.[1] after dinner we took our coffee at the café chinois, on the newski perspective, equal, if not superior, in style and decoration to anything in paris. even the rules of etiquette in france are not orthodox all over the world. in paris it is not necessary to take off the hat on entering a café or restaurant, and in the south of france a frenchman will sit down to dinner next a lady with his head covered; but in russia, even on entering an apartment where there are only gentlemen, it is necessary to uncover the head. i neglected this rule from ignorance and want of attention, and was treated with rudeness by the proprietor, and afterward learned the cause, with the suggestion that it was fortunate that i had not been insulted. this is a small matter, but a man's character in a strange place is often affected by a trifling circumstance; and americans, at least i know it to be the case with myself, are, perhaps, too much in the habit of neglecting the minor rules of etiquette. that night my new friend had his effects removed to a room adjoining mine, and the next morning i found him sitting in his window with a book in his hand, watching the young lady opposite. he was so pleased with his occupation that i could not get him away, and went off without him. mr. wilkins having offered to accompany me to some of the public institutions, i called for him; and, finding him disengaged, we took a boat on the neva, and went first to the academy of arts, standing conspicuously on the right bank opposite the english quay, and, perhaps, the chastest and most classical structure in st. petersburgh. in the court are two noble egyptian sphynxes. a magnificent staircase, with a double flight of granite steps, leads to a grand landing-place with broad galleries around it, supporting, by means of ionic columns, the cupola, which crowns the whole. the rotunda is a fine apartment of exquisite proportions, decorated with statues and busts; and at the upper end of the conference-room stands a large table, at the head of which is a full-length portrait of nicolas under a rich canopy. in one room are a collection of models from the antique, and another of the paintings of native artists, some of which are considered as indicating extraordinary talent. from hence we went to the _hotel des mines_, where the name of the american minister procured us admission without the usual permit. the _hotel des mines_ was instituted by the great peter for the purpose of training a mining engineer corps, to explore scientifically the vast mineral resources of the empire, and also engineers for the army. like all the other public edifices, the building is grand and imposing, and the arrangement of the different rooms and galleries is admirable. in one room is a large collection of medals, and in another of coins. besides specimens of general mineralogy of extraordinary beauty, there are native iron from the lake olonetz, silver ore from tobolsk and gold sand from the oural mountains; and in iron-bound cases, beautifully ornamented, there is a rich collection of native gold, found either in the mines belonging to government or in those of individuals, one piece of which was discovered at the depth of three and a half feet in the sand, weighing more than twenty-four pounds. the largest piece of platinum in existence, from the mines of demidoff, weighing ten pounds, is here also; and, above all, a colossal specimen of amalachite weighing three thousand four hundred and fifty-six pounds, and, at the common average price of this combination of copper and carbonic acid, worth three thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds sterling. but the most curious part of this valuable repository is under ground, being a model of a mine in siberia. furnished with lighted tapers, we followed our guides through winding passages cut into the bowels of the earth, the sides of which represented, by the aggregation of real specimens, the various stratifications, with all the different ores, and minerals, and different species of earth, as they were found in the natural state; the coal formation, veins of copper, and in one place of gold, being particularly well represented, forming an admirable practical school for the study of geology, though under a chillness of atmosphere which would be likely very soon to put an end to studies of all kinds. from here we passed to the imperial academy of sciences, by far the most interesting part of our day's visiting. this, too, was founded by the great peter. i hardly know why, but i had already acquired a warm admiration for the stout old czar. there was nothing high or chivalric about him, but every step in russia, from the black sea to the baltic, showed me what he had done to advance the condition of his people. i knew all this as matter of history, but here i felt it as fact. we strolled through the mineralogical and zoological repositories, and stopped before the skeleton of that stupendous inhabitant of a former world, denominated the mammoth, whose fame had been carried over the waste of waters even to our distant country, and beside which even the skeletons of elephants looked insignificant. what was he? where did he live, and is his race extinct? it gave rise to a long train of interesting speculation, to endow him with life, and see him striding with gigantic steps, the living tenant of a former world; and more interesting still to question, as others had done, whether he was not, after all, one of a race of animals not yet extinct, and perhaps wandering even now within a short distance of the polar sea. there is also in this part of the museum a collection of anatomical specimens and of human monsters; an unpleasing exhibition, though, no doubt, useful to medical science; among them was a child with two heads from america. more interesting to me was a large collection of insects, of medals, and particularly of the different objects in gold found in the tumuli of siberia, consisting of bracelets, vases, crowns, bucklers, rings, sabres with golden hilts, tartar idols, &c., many of them of great value and of very elegant workmanship, which have given rise to much interesting speculation in regard to the character of the people who formerly inhabited that country. the asiatic museum contains a library of chinese, japanese, mongolese, and tibetan books and manuscripts; mohammedan, chinese, and japanese coins; an interesting assemblage of mongolese idols cut in bronze and gilded, and illustrating the religion of buddha. there is also an egyptian museum, containing about a thousand articles. the cabinet of curiosities contains figures of all the different people conquered under the government of russia, habited in their national costumes; also of chinese, persians, aleutans, carelians, and the inhabitants of many of the eastern, pacific, or northern islands discovered or visited by russian travellers and navigators, as well as of the different nations inhabiting siberia. but by far the most interesting part of the museum is the cabinet of peter himself, consisting of a suite of apartments, in which the old czar was in the habit of passing his leisure hours engaged in some mechanical employment. in one room are several brass cylinders turned by his own hands, and covered with battle-scenes of his own engraving. also an iron bar forged by him; bas-reliefs executed in copper, representing his desperate battles in livonia; an ivory chandelier of curious and highly-wrought workmanship, and a group in ivory representing abraham offering up his son isaac, the ram and the angel gabriel cut out entire. in another room is his workshop, containing a variety of vessels and models etched in copper, and a copperplate with an unfinished battle-scene. his tools and implements are strewed about the room precisely in the state in which he left them the last time he was there. in another chamber were the distended skin of his french body-servant, seven feet high; the arabian horse which he rode at the bloody battle of pultowa, and the two favourite dogs which always accompanied him; and in another the figure of the old czar himself in wax, as large as life; the features, beyond doubt, bearing the exact resemblance to the original, being taken from a cast applied to his face when dead, and shaded in imitation of his real complexion. the eyebrows and hair are black, the eyes dark, the complexion swarthy, and aspect stern. this figure is surrounded by the portraits of his predecessors, in their barbarian costumes, himself seated in an armchair in the same splendid dress which he wore when with his own hands he placed the imperial crown on the head of his beloved catharine. here, also, are his uniform of the guards, gorget, scarf, and sword, and hat shot through at the battle of pultowa; and the last thing which the guide put into my hands was a long stick measuring his exact height, and showing him literally a great man, being six russian feet. i must not forget a pair of shoes made by his own hands; but the old czar was no shoemaker. nevertheless, these memorials were all deeply interesting; and though i had seen the fruits of his labours from the black sea to the baltic, i never felt such a strong personal attraction to him as i did here. i was obliged to decline dining with mr. wilkins in consequence of an engagement with my friend the pole; and, returning, i found him at the window with a book in his hand, precisely in the same position in which i had left him. after dinner a servant came in and delivered a message, and he proposed a walk on the admiralty boulevards. it was the fashionable hour for promenade, and, after a turn or two, he discovered his fair enslaver, accompanied by her father and several ladies and gentlemen, one of whom seemed particularly devoted to her. she was a pretty little girl, and seemed to me a mere child, certainly not more than fifteen. his admiration had commenced on the boulevards the first afternoon of his arrival, and had increased violently during the whole day, while he was sitting at the window. he paraded me up and down the walk once or twice, and, when they had seated themselves on a bench, took a seat opposite. he was sure she was pleased with his admiration, but i could not see that her look indicated any very flattering acknowledgment. in fact, i could but remark that the eyes of the gentlemen were turned toward us quite as often as those of the lady, and suggested that, if he persisted, he would involve us in some difficulty with them; but he said there could not be any difficulty about it, for, if he offended them, he would give them satisfaction. as this view of the case did not hit my humour, i told him that, as i had come out with him, i would remain, but if he made any farther demonstrations, i should leave him, and, at all events, after that he must excuse me from joining his evening promenades. soon after they left the boulevards, and we returned to our hotel, where he entertained me with a history of his love adventures at home, and felicitations upon his good fortune in finding himself already engaged in one here. sunday. until the early part of the tenth century the religion of russia was a gross idolatry. in nine hundred and thirty-five, olga, the widow of igor the son of runic, sailed down the dnieper from kief, was baptized at constantinople, and introduced christianity into russia, though her family and nation adhered for a long time to the idolatry of their fathers. the great schism between the eastern and western churches had already taken place, and the christianity derived from constantinople was of course of the greek persuasion. the greek church believes in the doctrines of the trinity, but differs from the catholic in some refined and subtle distinction in regard to what is called the procession of the holy ghost. it enjoins the invocation of saints as mediators, and permits the use of pictures as a means of inspiring and strengthening devotion. the well-informed understand the use for which they are intended, but these form a very small portion of the community, and probably the great bulk of the people worship the pictures themselves. the clergy are, in general, very poor and very ignorant. the priests are not received at the tables of the upper classes, but they exercise an almost controlling influence over the lower, and they exhibited this influence in rousing the serfs against the french, which may be ascribed partly, perhaps, to feelings of patriotism, and partly to the certainty that napoleon would strip their churches of their treasures, tear down their monasteries, and turn themselves out of doors. but of the population of fifty-five millions, fifteen are divided into roman catholics, armenians, protestants, jews, and mohammedans, and among the caucasians, georgians, circassians, and mongol tribes nearly two millions are pagans or idolaters, brahmins, lamists, and worshippers of the sun. for a people so devout as the russians, the utmost toleration prevails throughout the whole empire, and particularly in st. petersburgh. churches of every denomination stand but a short distance apart on the newski perspective. the russian cathedral is nearly opposite the great catholic chapel; near them is the armenian, then the lutheran, two churches for dissenters, and a mosque for the mohammedans! and on sunday thousands are seen bending their steps to their separate churches, to worship according to the faith handed down to them by their fathers. early in the morning, taking with me a valet and joining the crowd that was already hurrying with devout and serious air along the newski perspective, i entered the cathedral of our lady of cazan, a splendid monument of architecture, and more remarkable as the work of a native artist, with a semicircular colonnade in front, consisting of one hundred and thirty-two corinthian columns thirty-five feet high, somewhat after the style of the great circular colonnade of st. peter's at rome, and surmounted by a dome crowned with a cross of exquisite workmanship, supported on a large gilded ball. within, fifty noble columns, each of one piece of solid granite from finland, forty-eight feet high and four feet in diameter, surmounted by a rich capital of bronze, and resting on a massive bronze base, support an arched roof richly ornamented with flowers in bas-relief. the jewels and decorations of the altar are rich and splendid, the doors leading to the sanctum sanctorum, with the railing in front, being of silver. as in the catholic churches, there are no pews, chairs, or benches, and all over the floor were the praying figures of the russians. around the walls were arranged military trophies, flags, banners, and the keys of fortresses wrested from the enemies of russia; but far more interesting than her columns, and colossal statues, and military trophies, is the tomb of the warrior kutuzow; simple, and remarkable for the appropriate warlike trophy over it, formed of french flags and the eagles of napoleon. admiration for heroism owns no geographical or territorial limits, and i pity the man who could stand by the grave of kutuzow without feeling it a sacred spot. the emperor alexander with his own hands took the most precious jewel from his crown and sent it to the warrior, with a letter announcing to him his elevation to the rank of prince of smolensko; but richer than jewels or principalities is the tribute which his countrymen pay at his tomb. the church of our lady of cazan contains another monument of barbarian patriotism. the celebrated leader of the cossacks during the period of the french invasion, having intercepted a great part of the booty which the french were carrying from moscow, sent it to the metropolitan or head of the church, with a characteristic letter, directing it to be "made into an image of the four evangelists, and adorn the church of the mother of god of cazan." the concluding paragraph is, "hasten to erect in the temple of god this monument of battle and victory; and while you erect it, say with thankfulness to providence, the enemies of russia are no more; the vengeance of god has overtaken them on the soil of russia; and the road they have gone has been strewed with their bones, to the utter confusion of their frantic and proud ambition." (signed) "platoff." from the church of our lady of cazan i went to the protestant church, where i again joined in an orthodox service. the interior of the church is elegant, though externally it can scarcely be distinguished from a private building. the seats are free, the men sitting on one side and the women on the other. mr. law, the clergyman, has been there many years, and is respected and loved by his congregation. after church i walked to the convent of alexander newski, the burial-place of prince alexander, who obtained in the thirteenth century a splendid victory over the allied forces of sweden, denmark, and livonia; afterward became a monk, and for his pure and holy life was canonized, and now ranks among the principal saints in the russian calendar. the warrior was first buried at moscow, but peter the great had his remains transported with great ceremony to this place, a procession of a thousand priests walking barefoot all the way. the monastery stands at the extreme end of the newski perspective, and within its precincts are several churches and a large cemetery. it is the residence of the distinguished prelates of the greek church and a large fraternity of monks. the dress of the monks is a loose black cloak and round black cap, and no one can be admitted a member until the age of thirty. we entered a grand portal, walked up a long avenue, and, crossing a bridge over a stream, worked our way between lines of the carriages of nobles and ladies, and crowds of the people in their best bell-crowned hats; and, amid a throng of miserable beggars, penetrated to the door of the principal church, a large and beautiful specimen of modern corinthian architecture. i remarked the great entrance, the lofty dome, the fresco paintings on the ceilings, and the arabesque decorations on the walls; the altar-piece of white carrara marble, paintings by rubens and vandyck, the holy door in the iconastos, raised on a flight of steps of rich gilded bronze, and surmounted by the representation of a dazzling aureola of different colored metals, and in the centre the initials of that awful name which none in israel save the initiated were permitted to pronounce. i walked around and paused before the tomb of the warrior saint. a sarcophagus or coffin of massive silver, standing on an elevated platform, ornamented in bas-relief, representing scenes of battles with the swedes, contains his relics; a rich ermine lies upon the coffin, and above is a silver canopy. on each side is a warrior clothed in armour, with his helmet, breastplate, shield, and spear also of massive silver. the altar rises thirty feet in height, of solid silver, with groups of military figures and trophies of warriors, also of silver, as large as life; and over it hangs a golden lamp, with a magnificent candelabrum of silver, together with a vessel of curious workmanship holding the bones of several holy men, the whole of extraordinary magnificence and costliness of material, upward of four thousand pounds weight of silver having been used in the construction of the chapel and shrine. the dead sleep the same whether in silver coffins or in the bare earth, but the stately character of the church, dimly lighted, and the splendour and richness of the material, gave a peculiar solemnity to the tomb of the warrior saint. leaving the churches, i strolled through the cloisters of the monastery and entered the great cemetery. there, as in the great cemetery of père la chaise at paris, all that respect, and love, and affection can do to honour the memory of the dead, and all that vanity and folly can do to ridicule it, have been accomplished. there are seen epitaphs of affecting brevity and elaborate amplification; every design, every device, figure, emblem, and decoration; every species of material, from native granite to carrara marble and pure gold. among the simpler tombs of poets, warriors, and statesmen, a monument of the most gigantic proportions is erected to snatch from oblivion the name of a rich russian merchant. the base is a solid cubic block of the most superb marble, on which is a solid pedestal of black marble ten feet square, bearing a sarcophagus fourteen feet high, and of most elegant proportions, surmounted by a gold cross twenty feet in height. at each of the four corners is a colossal candelabrum of cast iron, with entwining serpents of bronze gilded. the ground alone cost a thousand pounds, and the whole monument about twenty thousand dollars. near the centre of this asylum of the dead, a tetrastyle ionic temple of the purest white marble records the virtues of an interesting lady, the countess of potemkin, and alto relievos of the most exquisite execution on three sides of the temple tell the melancholy story of a mother snatched from three lovely children. the countess, prophetically conscious of her approaching fate, is looking up calmly and majestically to the figure of religion, and resting with confidence her left hand on the symbol of christianity. in front are the inscription and arms of the family in solid gold. but what are the russian dead to me? the granite and marble monument of the merchant is a conglomeration of hides, hemp, and tallow; a man may be excused if he linger a moment at the tomb of an interesting woman, a mother cut off in her prime; but melancholy is infectious, and induces drowsiness and closing of the book. in consideration for my valet, at the grand portal i took a drosky, rolled over the wooden pavement of the newski perspective, and, with hardly motion enough to disturb my revery, was set down at the door of my hotel. my pole was waiting to dine with me, and roused me from my dreams of the dead to recount his dreams of the living. all day he had sat at his window, and a few straggling glances from the lady opposite had abundantly rewarded him, and given him great spirits for his evening's promenade on the boulevards. i declined accompanying him, and he went alone, and returned in the evening almost in raptures. we strolled an hour by the twilight, and retired early. it will hardly be believed, but early the next morning he came to my room with a letter on fine pink paper addressed to his fair enslaver. the reader may remember that this was not the first time i had been made a confidant in an affaire du coeur. to be sure, the missionary at smyrna turned out to be crazy; and on this point, at least, my pole was a little touched; nevertheless, i listened to his epistle. it was the regular oldfashioned document, full of hanging, shooting, drowning, and other extravagances. he sealed it with an amatory device, and, calling up a servant in his confidence, told him to carry it over, and then took his place in my window to watch the result. in the mean time, finding it impossible to dislodge him, and that i could not count upon him to accompany me on my visits to the palaces as he had promised, i went to the hermitage alone. the great and little hermitages are connected with the winter palace and with each other by covered galleries, and the theatre is connected with the two hermitages by means of another great arch thrown over a canal, so that the whole present a continued line of imperial palaces, unequalled in extent in any part of europe, measuring one thousand five hundred and ninety-six feet, or one third of an english mile. if i were to select a building designed to realize the most extravagant notions of grandeur and luxury, it would be the gorgeous palace known under the modest name of the hermitage. i shall not attempt any description of the interior of this splendid edifice, but confine myself to a brief enumeration of its contents. i ascended by a spacious staircase to the anteroom, where i gave, or, rather, where my cane was demanded by the footman, and proceeded through a suite of magnificent rooms, every one surpassing the last, and richer in objects of the fine arts, science, and literature; embellished throughout by a profusion of the most splendid ornaments and furniture, and remarkable for beauty of proportion and variety of design. in rooms and galleries appropriated to the separate schools and masters are upward of thirteen hundred paintings by raphael, titian, guido, andrea del sarto, luca giordano, the caracci, perugino, corregio, and leonardi da vinci; here is also the best collection in existence, of pictures by wouvermans and teniers, with some of the masterpieces of rubens and vandyck, of the french claude, poussin, and vernet. the celebrated houghton collection is here, with a gallery of paintings of the spanish schools, many of them murillos. in one room is a superb vase of siberian jasper, of a lilac colour, five feet high, and of exquisite form and polish; in another are two magnificent candelabras, said to be valued at two hundred and twenty thousand rubles, or about fifty thousand dollars; i must mention also the great musical clock, representing an antique grecian temple, and containing within a combination of instruments, having the power of two orchestras, which accompany each other; two golden tripods, seven feet high, supporting the gold salvers on which salt and bread were exhibited to the emperor alexander on his triumphal return from paris, as emblems of wisdom and plenty, a large musical and magical secretary, which opens spontaneously in a hundred directions at the sound of music, purchased by the late emperor for eight hundred guineas; a room surrounded with books, some of which were originals, placed there by catharine for the use of the domestics, as she said, to keep the devil out of their heads; a saloon containing the largest collection of engravings and books of engravings in europe, amounting to upward of thirty thousand; a library of upward of one hundred and ten thousand volumes; an extensive cabinet of medals, and another of gems and pastes; a jewel-cabinet, containing the rich ornaments which have served for the toilettes of succeeding empresses, innumerable precious stones and pearls, many of extraordinary magnitude; a superb collection of antiques and cameos, amounting to upward of fifteen thousand, the cameos alone affording employment for days. in one room are curious works in ivory and fishbones, by the inhabitants of archangel, who are skilled in that species of workmanship; and in another is the celebrated clock, known by the name of l'horloge du paon. it is enclosed in a large glass case ten feet high, being the trunk of a golden tree, with its branches and leaves all of gold. on the top of the trunk sits a peacock, which, when the chimes begin, expands its brilliant tail, while an owl rolls its eyes with its own peculiar stare, and, instead of a bell striking the hours, a golden cock flaps his wings and crows. the clock is now out of order, and the machinery is so complicated that no artist has hitherto been able to repair it. but perhaps the most extraordinary and interesting of the wonders of the hermitage are the winter and summer gardens. as i strolled through the suites of apartments, and looked out through the windows of a long gallery, it was hardly possible to believe that the flourishing trees, shrubs, and flowers stood upon an artificial soil, raised nearly fifty feet above the surface of the earth. the winter garden is a large quadrangular conservatory, planted with laurels and orange trees, in which linnets and canary birds formerly flew about enjoying the freedom of nature; but the feathered tribe have disappeared. the summer garden connected with it is four hundred feet long; and here, suspended, as it were, in the air, near the top of the palace, i strolled along gravel-walks, and among parterres of shrubs and flowers growing in rich luxuriance, and under a thick foliage inhaled their delightful fragrance. it is idle to attempt a description of this scene. i returned to my pole, whom i found at his window with a melancholy and sentimental visage, his beautiful epistle returned upon his hands--having, in sportsman's phrase, entirely missed fire--and then lying with a most reproving look on his table. my friend had come up to st. petersburgh in consequence of a lawsuit, and as this occupied but a small portion of his time, he had involved himself in a lovesuit, and, so far as i could see, with about an equal chance of success in both. l'amour was the great business of his life, and he could not be content unless he had on hand what he called une affaire du coeur. footnote: [1] the winter palace has since been destroyed by fire. the author has not seen any account of the particulars, but has heard that the contents of the diamond chamber were saved. chapter viii. an imperial fête.--nicolas of russia.--varied splendours.--a soliloquy.--house of peter the great.--a boatrace.--czarskoselo.--the amber chamber.--catharine ii.--the emperor alexander. the next day was that appointed for the great fête at peterhoff. in spite of the confining nature of his two suits, my pole had determined to accompany me thither, being prompted somewhat by the expectation of seeing his damsel; and, no way disheartened by the fate of his first letter, he had manufactured another, by comparison with which the first was an icicle. i admitted it to be a masterpiece, though when he gave it to a servant to carry over, as we were on the point of setting off, suggested that it might be worth while to wait and pick it up when she threw it out of the window. but he had great confidence, and thought much better of her spirit for sending back his first letter. the whole population of petersburgh was already in motion and on the way to peterhoff. it was expected that the fête would be more than usually splendid, on account of the presence of the queen of holland, then on a visit to her sister the empress; and at an early hour the splendid equipages of the nobility, carriages, droskys, telegas, and carts, were hurrying along the banks of the neva, while steamboats, sailboats, rowboats, and craft of every description were gliding on the bosom of the river. as the least trouble, we chose a steamboat, and at twelve o'clock embarked at the english quay. the boat was crowded with passengers, and among them was an old english gentleman, a merchant of thirty years' standing in st. petersburgh. i soon became acquainted with him, how i do not know, and his lady told me that the first time i passed them she remarked to her husband that i was an american. the reader may remember that a lady made the same remark at smyrna; without knowing exactly how to understand it, i mention it as a fact showing the nice discrimination acquired by persons in the habit of seeing travellers from different countries. before landing, the old gentleman told me that his boys had gone down in a pleasure-boat, abundantly provided with materials, and asked me to go on board and lunch with them, which, upon the invitation being extended to my friend, i accepted. peterhoff is about twenty-five versts from st. petersburgh, and the whole bank of the neva on that side is adorned with palaces and beautiful summer residences of the russian seigneurs. it stands at the mouth of the neva, on the borders of the gulf of finland. opposite is the city of cronstadt, the seaport of st. petersburgh and the anchorage of the russian fleet. it was then crowded with merchant ships of every nation, with flags of every colour streaming from their spars in honour of the day. on landing, we accompanied our new friends, and found "the boys," three fine young fellows just growing up to manhood, in a handsome little pleasure-boat, with a sail arranged as an awning, waiting for their parents. we were introduced and received with open arms, and sat down to a cold collation in good old english style, at which, for the first time since i left home, i fastened upon an oldfashioned sirloin of roastbeef. it was a delightful meeting for me. the old people talked to me about my travels; and the old lady particularly, with almost a motherly interest in a straggling young man, inquired about my parents, brothers, and sisters, &c.; and i made my way with the frankhearted "boys" by talking "boat." altogether, it was a regular home family scene; and, after the lunch, we left the old people under the awning, promising to return at nine o'clock for tea, and with "the boys" set off to view the fête. from the time when we entered the grounds until we left at three o'clock the next morning, the whole was a fairy scene. the grounds extended some distance along the shore, and the palace stands on an embankment perhaps a hundred and fifty feet high, commanding a full view of the neva, cronstadt with its shipping, and the gulf of finland. we followed along the banks of a canal five hundred yards long, bordered by noble trees. on each side of the canal were large wooden frames about sixty feet high, filled with glass lamps for the illumination; and at the foot of each was another high framework with lamps, forming, among other things, the arms of russia, the double-headed eagle, and under it a gigantic star thirty or forty feet in diameter. at the head of the canal was a large basin of water, and in the centre of the basin stood a colossal group in brass, of a man tearing open the jaws of a rampant lion; and out of the mouth of the lion rushed a jet d'eau perhaps a hundred and fifty feet high. on each side of this basin, at a distance of about three hundred feet, was a smaller basin, with a jet d'eau in each about half its height, and all around were jets d'eau of various kinds, throwing water vertically and horizontally; among them i remember a figure larger than life, leaning forward in the attitude of a man throwing the discus, with a powerful stream of water rushing from his clinched fist. these basins were at the foot of the embankment on which stands the palace. in the centre was a broad flight of steps leading to the palace, and on each side was a continuous range of marble slabs to the top of the hill, over which poured down a sheet of water, the slabs being placed so high and far apart as to allow lamps to be arranged behind the water. all over, along the public walks and in retired alcoves, were frames hung with lamps; and everywhere, under the trees and on the open lawn, were tents of every size and fashion, beautifully decorated; many of them, oriental in style and elegance, were fitted up as places of refreshment. thousands of people, dressed in their best attire, were promenading the grounds, but no vehicles were to be seen, until, in turning a point, we espied at some distance up an avenue, and coming quietly toward us, a plain open carriage, with two horses and two english jockey outriders, in which were a gentleman and lady, whom, without the universal taking off of hats around us, i recognised at once as the emperor and empress. i am not apt to be carried away by any profound admiration for royalty, but, without consideration of their rank, i never saw a finer specimen of true gentility; in fact, he looked every inch a king, and she was my beau ideal of a queen in appearance and manners. they bowed as they passed, and, as i thought, being outside of the line of russians and easily recognised as a stranger, their courtesy was directed particularly to me; but i found that my companion took it very much to himself, and no doubt every long-bearded russian near us did the same. in justice to myself, however, i may almost say that i had a conversation with the emperor; for although his imperial highness did not speak to me, he spoke in a language which none but i (and the queen and his jockey outriders) understood; for, waving his hand to them, i heard him say in english, "to the right." after this _interview_ with his majesty we walked up to the palace. the splendid regiments of cavalier guards were drawn up around it, every private carrying himself like a prince; and i did not admire all his palaces, nor hardly his queen, so much as this splendid body of armed followers. behind the palace is a large plain cut up into gravel-walks, having in one place a basin of water, with waterworks of various kinds, among which were some of peculiar beauty falling in the form of a semiglobe. a little before dark we retired to a refectory under a tent until the garden was completely lighted up, that we might have the full effect of the illumination at one coup d'oeil, and, when we went out, the dazzling brilliancy of the scene within the semicircular illumination around the waterworks was beyond description. this semicircular framework enclosed in a large sweep the three basins, and terminated at the embankment on which the palace stands, presenting all around an immense fiery scroll in the air, sixty or eighty feet high, and filled with all manner of devices; and for its background a broad sheet of water falling over a range of steps, with lighted lamps behind it, forming an illuminated cascade, while the basins were blazing with the light thrown upon them from myriads of lamps, and the colossal figures of a reddened and unearthly hue were spouting columns of water into the air. more than two hundred thousand people were supposed to be assembled in the garden, in every variety of gay, brilliant, and extraordinary costume. st. petersburgh was half depopulated, and thousands of peasants were assembled from the neighbouring provinces. i was accidentally separated from all my companions; and, alone among thousands, sat down on the grass, and for an hour watched the throng passing through the illuminated circle, and ascending the broad steps leading toward the palace. among all this immense crowd there was no rabble; not a dress that could offend the eye; but intermingled with the ordinary costumes of europeans were the russian shopkeeper, with his long surtout, his bell-crowned hat, and solemn beard; cossacks, and circassian soldiers, and calmuc tartars, and cavalier guards, hussars, with the sleeves of their rich jackets dangling loose over their shoulders, tossing plumes, and helmets glittering with steel, intermingled throughout with the gay dresses of ladies; while near me, and, like me, carelessly stretched on the grass, under the light of thousands of lamps, was a group of peasants from finland fiddling and dancing; the women with light hair, bands around their heads, and long jackets enwrapping their square forms, and the men with long greatcoats, broad-brimmed hats, and a bunch of shells in front. leaving this brilliant scene, i joined the throng on the steps, and by the side of a splendid hussar, stooping his manly figure to whisper in the ears of a lovely young girl, i ascended to the palace and presented my ticket of admission to the bal masqué, so called from their being no masks there. i had not been presented at court, and, consequently, had only admission to the outer apartments with the people. i had, however, the range of a succession of splendid rooms, richly decorated with vases and tazzas of precious stones, candelabra, couches, ottomans, superb mirrors, and inlaid floors; and the centre room, extending several hundred feet in length, had its lofty walls covered to the very ceilings with portraits of all the female beauties in russia about eighty years ago. i was about being tired of gazing at these pictures of long-sleeping beauties, when the great doors at one end were thrown open, and the emperor and empress, attended by the whole court, passed through on their way to the banqueting-hall. although i had been in company with the emperor before in the garden, and though i had taken off my hat to the empress, both passed without recognising me. the court at st. petersburgh is admitted to be the most brilliant in europe; the dresses of the members of the diplomatic corps and the uniforms of the general and staff-officers being really magnificent, while those of the ladies sparkled with jewels. besides the emperor and empress, the only acquaintance i recognised in that constellation of brilliantly-dressed people were mr. wilkins and mr. clay, who, for republicans, made a very fair blaze. i saw them enter the banqueting-hall, painted in oriental style to represent a tent, and might have had the pleasure of seeing the emperor and empress and all that brilliant collection eat; but, turning away from a noise that destroyed much of the illusion, viz., the clatter of knives and forks, and a little piqued at the cavalier treatment i had received from the court circles, i went out on the balcony and soliloquized, "fine feathers make fine birds; but look back a little, ye dashing cavaliers and supercilious ladies. in the latter part of the seventeenth century, a french traveller in russia wrote that 'most men treat their wives as a necessary evil, regarding them with a proud and stern eye, and even beating them after.' dr. collins, physician to the czar in 1670, as an evidence of the progress of civilization in russia, says that the custom of tying up wives by the hair of the head and flogging them 'begins to be left off;' accounting for it, however, by the prudence of parents, who made a stipulative provision in the marriage contract that their daughters were not to be whipped, struck, kicked, &c. but, even in this improved state of society, one man 'put upon his wife a shirt dipped in ardent spirits, and burned her to death,' and was not punished, there being, according to the doctor, 'no punishment in russia for killing a wife or a slave.' when no provision was made in the marriage contract, he says they were accustomed to discipline their wives very severely. at the marriage the bridegroom had a whip in one boot and a jewel in the other, and this poor girl tried her fortune by choosing. 'if she happens upon the jewel,' says another traveller, 'she is lucky; but if on the whip, she gets it.' the bridegroom rarely saw his companion's face till after the marriage, when, it is said, 'if she be ugly she pays for it soundly, maybe the first time he sees her.' ugliness being punished with the whip, the women painted to great excess; and a traveller in sixteen hundred and thirty-six saw the grand duchess and her ladies on horseback astride, 'most wickedly bepainted.' the day after a lady had been at an entertainment, the hostess was accustomed to ask how she got home; and the polite answer was, 'your ladyship's hospitality made me so tipsy that i don't know how i got home;' and for the climax of their barbarity it can scarcely be believed, but it is recorded as a fact, that the women did not begin to wear stays till the beginning of the present century!" soothed by these rather ill-natured reflections, i turned to the illuminated scene and the thronging thousands below, descended once more to the garden, passed down the steps, worked my way through the crowd, and fell into a long avenue, like all the rest of the garden, brilliantly lighted, but entirely deserted. at the end of the avenue i came to an artificial lake, opposite which was a small square two-story cottage, being the old residence of peter the great, the founder of all the magnificence of peterhoff. it was exactly in the style of our ordinary country houses, and the furniture was of a simplicity that contrasted strangely with the surrounding luxury and splendour. the door opened into a little hall, in which were two oldfashioned dutch mahogany tables, with oval leaves, legs tapering and enlarging at the feet into something like a horseshoe; just such a table as every one may remember in his grandfather's house, and recalling to mind the simple style of our own country some thirty or forty years ago. in a room on one side was the old czar's bed, a low, broad wooden bedstead, with a sort of canopy over it, the covering of the canopy and the coverlet being of striped calico; the whole house, inside and out, was hung with lamps, illumining with a glare that was almost distressing the simplicity of peter's residence; and, as if to give greater contrast to this simplicity, while i was standing in the door of the hall, i saw roll by me in splendid equipages, the emperor and empress, with the whole of the brilliant court which i had left in the banqueting-hall, now making a tour of the gardens. the carriages were all of one pattern, long, hung low, without any tops, and somewhat like our omnibuses, except that, instead of the seats being on one side, there was a partition in the middle not higher than the back of a sofa, with large seats like sofas on each side, on which the company sat in a row, with their backs to each other; in front was a high and large box for the coachmen, and a footman behind. it was so light that i could distinguish the face of every gentleman and lady as they passed; and there was something so unique in the exhibition, that, with the splendour of the court dresses, it seemed the climax of the brilliant scenes at peterhoff. i followed them with my eyes till they were out of sight, gave one more look to the modest pillow on which old peter reposed his careworn head, and at about one o'clock in the morning left the garden. a frigate brilliantly illuminated was firing a salute, the flash of her guns lighting up the dark surface of the water as i embarked on board the steamboat. at two o'clock the morning twilight was like that of day; at three o'clock i was at my hotel, and, probably, at ten minutes past, asleep. about eight o'clock the next morning my pole came into my room. he had returned from peterhoff before me, and found waiting for him his second epistle, with a note from the mother of the young lady, which he read to me as i lay in bed. though more than half asleep, i was rather roused by the strange effect this letter had upon him, for he was now encouraged to go on with his suit, since he found that the backwardness of the young lady was to be ascribed to the influence of the mother, and not to any indifference on her part. in the afternoon i went to a boatrace between english amateurs that had excited some interest among the english residents. the boats were badly matched; a six-oared boat thirty-two feet long, and weighing two hundred and thirty pounds, being pitted against three pairs of sculls, with a boat twenty-eight feet long and weighing only one hundred and eight pounds. one belonged to the english legation and the other to some english merchants. the race was from the english quay to the bridge opposite the suwarrow monument at the foot of the summer garden, and back, a little more than two miles each way. the rapidity of the current was between two and three miles an hour, though its full strength was avoided by both boats keeping in the eddies along shore. it was a beautiful place for a boatrace; the banks of the neva were lined with spectators, and the six-oared boat beat easily, performing the distance in thirty-one minutes. the next morning, in company with a frenchman lately arrived at our hotel, i set out for the imperial palace of czarskoselo, about seventeen versts from st. petersburgh. about seven versts from the city we passed the imperial seat of zechenne, built by the empress catharine to commemorate the victory obtained by orloff over the turks on the coast of anatolia. the edifice is in the form of a turkish pavilion, with a central rotunda containing the full-length portraits of the sovereigns cotemporary with catharine. since her death this palace has been deserted. in eighteen hundred and twenty-five, alexander and the empress passed it on their way to the south of russia, and about eight months after their mortal remains found shelter in it for a night, on their way to the imperial sepulchre. there was no other object of interest on the road until we approached czarskoselo. opposite the "caprice gate" is a cluster of white houses, in two rows, of different sizes, diminishing as they recede from the road, and converging at the farthest extremity; altogether a bizarre arrangement, and showing the magnificence of russian gallantry. the empress catharine at the theatre one night happened to express her pleasure at the perspective view of a small town, and the next time she visited czarskoselo she saw the scene realized in a town erected by count orloff at immense expense before the gate of the palace. the façade of the palace is unequalled by any royal residence in the world, being twelve hundred feet in length. originally, every statue, pedestal, and capital of the numerous columns; the vases, carvings, and other ornaments in front, were covered with gold leaf, the gold used for that purpose amounting to more than a million of ducats. in a few years the gilding wore off, and the contractors engaged in repairing it offered the empress nearly half a million of rubles (silver) for the fragments of gold; but the empress scornfully refused, saying, "je ne suis pas dans l'usage de vendre mes vielles hardes." i shall not attempt to carry the reader through the magnificent apartments of this palace. but i must not forget the famed amber chamber, the whole walls and ceilings being of amber, some of the pieces of great size, neatly fitted together, and even the frames of the pictures an elaborate workmanship of the same precious material. but even this did not strike me so forcibly as when, conducted through a magnificent apartment, the walls covered with black paper shining like ebony, and ornamented with gold and immense looking-glasses, the footman opened a window at the other end, and we looked down into the chapel, an asiatic structure, presenting an _ensemble_ of rich gilding of surpassing beauty, every part of it, the groups of columns, the iconastos, and the gallery for the imperial family, resplendent with gold. in one of the staterooms where the empress's mother resides, the floor consists of a parquet of fine wood inlaid with wreaths of mother-of-pearl, and the panels of the room were incrusted with lapis lazuli. but to me all these magnificent chambers were as nothing compared with those which were associated with the memory of the late occupant. "uneasy rests the head that wears a crown;" and perhaps it is for this reason that i like to look upon the pillow of a king, far more on that of a queen. the bedchamber of catharine ii. is adorned with walls of porcelain and pillars of purple glass; the bedclothes are those under which she slept the last time she was at the palace, and in one place was a concealed door, by which, as the unmannerly footman, without any respect to her memory, told us, her imperial highness admitted her six-feet paramours. in the bedchamber of alexander were his cap, gloves, boots, and other articles of dress, lying precisely as he left them previous to his departure for the southern part of his empire. his bed was of leather, stuffed with straw, and his boots were patched over and over worse than mine, which i had worn all the way from paris. i tried on his cap and gloves, and moralized over his patched boots. i remembered alexander as the head of a gigantic empire, the friend and ally, and then the deadly foe of napoleon; the companion of kings and princes; the arbiter of thrones and empires, and playing with crowns and sceptres. i sat with the patched boots in my hand. like old peter, he had considerable of a foot, and i respected him for it. i saw him, as it were, in an undress, simple and unostentatious in his habits; and there was a domestic air in his whole suite of apartments that interested me more than when i considered him on his throne. his sitting-room showed quiet and gentlemanly as well as domestic habits, for along the wall was a border of earth, with shrubs and flowers growing out of it, a delicate vine trailed around and almost covering a little mahogany railing. the grounds around the palace are eighteen miles in circumference, abounding in picturesque and beautiful scenery, improved by taste and an unbounded expenditure of money, and at this time they were in the fulness of summer beauty. we may talk simplicity and republicanism, but, after all, it must be a pleasant thing to be an emperor. i always felt this, particularly when strolling through imperial parks or pleasure-grounds, and sometimes i almost came to the unsentimental conclusion that, to be rural, a man must be rich. we wandered through the grounds without any plan, taking any path that offered, and at every step some new beauty broke upon us: a theatre; turkish kiosk or chinese pagoda; splendid bridges, arches, and columns; and an egyptian gate; a summer-house in the form of an ionic colonnade, a masterpiece of taste and elegance, supporting an aerial garden crowded with flowers; and a gothic building called the admiralty, on the borders of an extensive lake, on which lay several boats--rigged as frigates, elegant barges and pleasure-boats, and beautiful white swans floating majestically upon its surface; on the islands and the shores of the lake were little summer-houses; at the other end was a magnificent stone landing, and in full view a marble bridge, with corinthian columns of polished marble; an arsenal, with many curious and interesting objects, antique suits of armour, and two splendid sets of horse trappings, holsters, pistols, and bridles, all studded with diamonds, presented by the sultan on occasion of the peace of adrianople. nor must i forget the dairy, and a superb collection of goats and lamas from siberia. amid this congregation of beauties one thing offended me; a gothic tower built as a ruin for the sake of the picturesque, which, wanting the associations connected with monuments ruined by time, struck me as a downright mockery. we had intended to visit the palace of paulowsky, but time slipped away, and it was six o'clock before we started to return to st. petersburgh. chapter ix. the soldier's reward.--review of the russian army.--american cannibals.--palace of potemkin.--palace of the grand-duke michael.--equipments for travelling.--rough riding.--poland.--vitepsk.--napoleon in poland.--the disastrous retreat.--passage of the berezina. early the next morning i went out about twelve versts from the city to attend a grand military review by the emperor in person. the government of russia is a military despotism, and her immense army, nominally amounting to a million, even on the peace establishment numbers actually six hundred thousand, of which sixty thousand follow the person of the emperor, and were at that time under arms at st. petersburgh. when i rode on the parade-ground, the spectacle of this great army, combining the élite of barbaric chivalry with soldiers trained in the best schools of european discipline, drawn up in battle's stern array, and glittering with steel, was brilliant and almost sublime; in numbers and military bearing, in costliness of armour and equipment, far surpassing any martial parade that i had seen, not excepting a grand review of french troops at paris, or even a _fourth of july parade at home_. i once had the honour to be a paymaster in the valiant one hundred and ninety-seventh regiment of new-york state militia; and i can say what, perhaps, no other man who ever served in our _army_ can say, that i served out my whole term without being once promoted. men came in below and went out above me; ensigns became colonels and lieutenants generals, but i remained the same; it was hard work to escape promotion, but i was resolute. associated with me was a friend as quartermaster, with as little of the spirit of a soldier in him as myself, for which we were rather looked down upon by the warriors of our day; and when, at the end of our term, in company with several other officers, we resigned, the next regimental orders were filled with military panegyrics, such as, "the colonel has received, with the greatest regret, the resignation of lieutenant a.;" "the country has reason to deplore the loss of the services of captain b.;" and wound up with, "quartermaster g. and paymaster s. have tendered their resignations, _both of which are hereby accepted_." but when strains of martial music burst from a hundred bands, and companies, and regiments, and brigades wheeled and manoeuvred before me, and the emperor rode by, escorted by general and field officers, and the most magnificent staff in europe, and the earth shook under the charge of cavalry, i felt a strong martial spirit roused within me, perhaps i was excited by the reflection that these soldiers had been in battles, and that the stars and medals glittering on their breasts were not mere holyday ornaments, but the tokens of desperate service on bloody battle-fields. in a body, the russian soldiers present an exceedingly fine appearance. when the serf is enrolled, his hair and beard are cut off, except on the upper lip, his uniform is simple and graceful, a belt is worn tightly round the waist, and the breast of the coat is thickly padded, increasing the manliness of the figure, though sometimes at the expense of health. in evolutions they move like a great machine, as if all the arms and legs were governed by a single impulse. the army under review was composed of representatives from all the nations under the sway of russia; cossacks of the don, and the wolga, and the black sea, in jackets and wide pantaloons of blue cloth, riding on small horses, with high-peaked saddles, and carrying spears eight or ten feet in length. one regiment had the privilege of wearing a ragged flag and caps full of holes, as proofs of their gallant service, being the only regiment that fought at pultowa. and there were calmucs in their extraordinary war-dress; a helmet with a gilded crest, or a chain cap with a network of iron rings falling over the head and shoulders, and hanging as low as the eyebrows in front; a shirt of mail, composed of steel rings matted together and yielding to the body, the arms protected by plates, and the back of the hand by steel network fastened to the plates on each side; their offensive weapons were bows and arrows, silver-mounted pistols peeping out of their holsters, cartridge-boxes on each side of the breast, and a dagger, sword, and gun. the kirguish, a noble-looking race, come from the steppes of siberia. their uniform is magnificent, consisting of a blue frockcoat and pantaloons covered with silver lace, a grecian helmet, and a great variety of splendid arms, the yataghan alone costing a thousand rubles. they are all noble, and have no regular duty, except to attend the imperial family on extraordinary occasions. at home they are always at war among themselves. they are mohammedans; and one of them said to an american friend who had a long conversation with him, that he had four wives at home; that some had more, but it was not considered becoming to exceed that number. a bearded russian came up and said that these kirguish eat dogs and cats against which the kirguish protested. the same russian afterward observed that the americans were worse than the kirguish, for that a patriarch of the church had written, and therefore it must be true, that the number of human beings eaten by americans could not be counted; adding, with emphasis, "sir, you were created in the likeness of your maker, and you should endeavour to keep yourself so." he continued that the russians were the first christians, and he felt much disposed to send missionaries among the americans to meliorate their condition. the imperial guards are the finest-looking set of men i ever saw. the standard is six feet, and none are admitted below that height. their uniform is a white cloth coat, with buckskin breeches, boots reaching up to the hips, and swords that wallace himself would not have been ashamed to wield. but perhaps the most striking in that brilliant army was the emperor himself; seeming its natural head, towering even above his gigantic guards, and looking, as mr. wilkins once said of him, like one who, among savages, would have been chosen for a chief. in the midst of this martial spectacle, the thought came over me of militia musters at home; and though smiling at the insignificance of our military array as i rode back in my drosky, i could but think of the happiness of our isolated position, which spares us the necessity of keeping a large portion of our countrymen constantly in arms to preserve the rest in the enjoyment of life and fortune. the next morning my polish friend, hopeless of success either in his lawsuit or his lovesuit, fixed a day for our departure; and, with the suggestion that i am about leaving st. petersburgh, i turn once more, and for the last time, to the imperial palaces. not far from the hermitage is the marble palace; a colossal pile, built by the empress catharine for her favourite, count orloff, presenting one of its fronts to the neva. all the decorations are of marble and gilded bronze, and the capitals and bases of the columns and pilasters, and the window-frames and balustrades of the balconies, of cast bronze richly gilded. the effect is heightened by the unusually large dimensions of the squares of fine plate glass. a traveller in seventeen hundred and fifty-nine says "that the prodigies of enchantment which we read of in the tales of the genii are here called forth into reality; and the temples reared by the luxuriant fancy of our poets may be considered as a picture of the marble palace, which jupiter, when the burden of cares drives him from heaven, might make his delightful abode." at present, however, there are but few remains of this olympian magnificence, and i think jupiter at the same expense would prefer the winter palace or the hermitage. the taurida palace, erected by catharine ii. for her lover, potemkin, in general effect realizes the exaggerated accounts of travellers. the entrance is into a spacious hall, which leads to a circular vestibule of extraordinary magnitude, decorated with busts and statues in marble, with a dome supported by white columns. from thence you pass between the columns into an immense hall or ballroom, two hundred and eighty feet long and eighty wide, with double colonnades of lofty ionic pillars decorated with gold and silver festoons, thirty-five feet high and ten feet in circumference. from the colonnade, running the whole length of the ballroom, you enter the winter garden, which concealed flues and stoves keep always at the temperature of summer; and here, upon great occasions, under the light of magnificent lustres and the reflection of numerous mirrors, during the fierceness of the russian winter, when the whole earth is covered with snow, and "water tossed in the air drops down in ice," the imperial visiter may stroll through gravel-walks bordered with the choicest plants and flowers, blooming hedges and groves of orange, and inhale the fragrance of an arabian garden. paul, in one of his "darkened hours," converted this palace into barracks and a riding-school; but it has since been restored, in some degree, to its ancient splendour. the palace of paul, in which he was assassinated, has been uninhabited since his death. but the triumph of modern architecture in st. petersburgh is the palace of the grand-duke michael. i shall not attempt any description of this palace; but, to give some notion of its splendours to my calculating countrymen, i shall merely remark that it cost upward of seventeen millions of rubles. but i am weary of palaces; of wandering through magnificent apartments, where scene after scene bursts upon my eyes, and, before i begin to feel at home in them, i find myself ordered out by the footman. will the reader believe me? on the opposite side of the river is a little wooden house, more interesting in my eyes than all the palaces in st. petersburgh. it is the humble residence of peter the great. i visited it for the last time after rambling through the gorgeous palace of the grand-duke michael. it is one story high, low roofed, with a little piazza around it, and contains a sitting-room, bedroom, and dining-parlours; and peter himself, with his own axe, assisted in its construction. the rooms are only eight feet in height, the sitting-room is fifteen feet square, the dining-room fifteen feet by twelve, and the bedchamber ten feet square. in the first there is a chapel and shrine, where the russian visiter performs his orisons and prays for the soul of peter. around the cottage is a neat garden, and a boat made by peter himself is suspended to one of the walls. i walked around the cottage, inside and out; listened attentively, without understanding a word he said, to the garrulous russian cicerone, and sat down on the step of the front piazza. opposite was that long range of imperial palaces extending for more than a mile on the neva, and surpassing all other royal residences in europe or the world. when peter sat in the door of this humble cottage, the ground where they stood was all morass and forest. where i saw the lofty spires of magnificent churches, he looked out upon fishermen's huts. my eyes fell upon the golden spire of the church of the citadel glittering in the sunbeams, and reminding me that in its dismal charnelhouse slept the tenant of the humble cottage, the master-spirit which had almost created out of nothing all this splendour. i saw at the same time the beginning and the end of greatness. the humble dwelling is preserved with religious reverence, and even now is the most interesting monument which the imperial city can show. and here, at this starting-point in her career, i take my leave of the palmyra of the north. i am compelled to omit many things which he who speaks of st. petersburgh at all ought not to omit: her magnificent churches; her gigantic and splendid theatres; her literary, scientific, and eleemosynary institutions, and that which might form the subject of a chapter in her capital, her government and laws. i might have seen something of russian society, as my friend luoff had arrived in st. petersburgh; but, with my limited time, the interchange of these civilities interfered with my seeing the curiosities of the capital. my intimacy with the colonel had fallen off, though we still were on good terms. the fact is, i believe i fell into rather queer company in st. petersburgh, and very soon found the colonel to be the most thorough roué i ever met. he seemed to think that travelling meant dissipating; he had never travelled but once, and that was with the army to paris; and, except when on duty, his whole time had been spent in riot and dissipation; and though sometimes he referred to hard fighting, he talked more of the pleasures of that terrible campaign than of its toils and dangers. in consideration of my being a stranger and a young man, he constituted himself my mentor, and the advice which, in all soberness, he gave me as the fruits of his experience, was a beautiful guide for the road to ruin. i have no doubt that, if i had given myself up entirely to him, he would have fêted me all the time i was in st. petersburgh; but this did not suit me, and i afterward fell in with the pole, who had his own vagaries too, and who, being the proprietor of a cloth manufactory, did not suit the aristocratic notions of the colonel, and so our friendship cooled. my intimacy with his friend the prince, however, increased. i called upon him frequently, and he offered to accompany me everywhere; but as in sightseeing i love to be alone, i seldom asked him, except for a twilight walk. old associations were all that now bound together him and the colonel; their feelings, their fortunes, and their habits of life were entirely different; and the colonel, instead of being displeased with my seeking the prince in preference to himself, was rather gratified. altogether, the colonel told me, he was much mistaken in me, but he believed i was a good fellow after all; excused my regular habits somewhat on the ground of my health; and the day before that fixed for my departure, asked me to pass the evening with him, and to bring my friend the pole. in the evening we went to the colonel's apartments. the prince was there, and, after an elegant little supper, happening to speak of a frenchman and a prussian living in the hotel, with whom i had become acquainted, he sent down for them to come up and join us. the table was cleared, pipes and tobacco were brought on, and champagne was the only wine. we had a long and interesting conversation on the subject of the road to warsaw, and particularly in regard to the bloody passage of the berezina, at which both the colonel and the prince were present. the servant, a favourite serf (who the next day robbed the colonel of every valuable article in his apartment), being clumsy in opening a new bottle of champagne, the colonel said he must return to army practice, and reaching down his sabre, with a scientific blow took off the neck without materially injuring the bottle or disturbing the contents. this military way of decanting champagne aided its circulation, and head after head fell rapidly before the naked sabre. i had for some time avoided emptying my glass, which, in the general hurry of business, was not noticed; but, as soon as the colonel discovered it, he cried out, "treason, treason against good fellowship. america is a traitor." i pleaded ill health, but he would not listen to me; upbraided me that the friend and old ally of russia should fail him; turned up his glass on the table, and swore he would not touch it again unless i did him justice. all followed his example; all decided that america was disturbing the peace of nations; the glasses were turned up all around, and a dead stop was put to the merriment. i appealed, begged, and protested; and the colonel became positive, dogged, and outrageous. the prince came to my aid, and proposed that the difficulty between russia and america should be submitted to the arbitration of france and prussia. he had observed these powers rather backing out. the eyes of france were already in a fine phrensy rolling, and prussia's tongue had long been wandering; and in apprehension of their own fate, these mighty powers leaned to mercy. it was necessary, however, to propitiate the colonel, and they decided that, to prevent the effusion of blood, i should start once more the flow of wine; that we should begin again with a bumper all around; and, after that, every man should do as he pleased. the colonel was obliged to be content; and swearing that he would drink for us all, started anew. the prussian was from berlin, and this led the colonel to speak of the stirring scenes that had taken place in that capital on the return of the russian army from paris; and, after a while, the prussian, personally unknown to the colonel, told him that his name was still remembered in berlin as a leader in russian riot and dissipation, and particularly as having carried off, in a most daring manner, a lady of distinguished family; and--"go on," said the colonel--"killed her husband." "he refused my challenge," said the colonel, "but sought my life, and i shot him like a dog." the whole party now became uproarious; the colonel begged me, by all the friendly relations between russia and america, to hold on till breakfast-time; but, being the coolest man present, and not knowing what farther developments might take place, i broke up the party. in the morning my passport was not ready. i went off to the police-office for it, and when i returned the horses had not come, and the valet brought me the usual answer, that there were none. my pole was glad to linger another day for the sake of his flirtation with the little girl opposite, and so we lounged through the day, part of the time in the bazar of a persian, where i came near ruining myself by an offer i made for a beautiful emerald; and after one more and the last twilight stroll on the banks of the neva and up the newski perspective, we returned at an early hour, and for the last time in russia, slept in a bed. at nine o'clock the next morning a kibitka drove up to the door of our hotel, demanding an american and a pole for warsaw. all the servants of the hotel were gathered around, arranging the luggage, and making a great parade of getting off the distinguished travellers. the travellers themselves seemed equipped for a long journey. one wore a blue roundabout jacket, military cap and cloak, with whiskers and a mustache tending to red; the other, a tall, stout, herculean fellow, was habited in the most outré costume of a russian traveller; a cotton dressing-gown of every variety of colours, red and yellow predominating; coarse gray trousers; boots coming above his knees; a cap _tout a fait farouche_, and there was no mistake about the colour of his hair and mustaches; he was moving slowly around the kibitka in his travelling dress, and looking up to the window opposite, to give his dulcinea the melancholy intelligence that he was going away, and perhaps to catch one farewell smile at parting. the carriage of these distinguished travellers was the kibitka, one of the national vehicles of russia, being a long, round-bottomed box or cradle on four wheels, probably the old scythian wagon, resting, in proud contempt of the effeminacy of springs, on the oaken axles; the hubs of the wheels were two feet long, the linchpins of wood, the body of the carriage fastened to the wheels by wooden pins, ropes, and sticks; and, except the tires of the wheels, there was not a nail or piece of iron about it. the hinder part was covered with matting, open in front somewhat like an oldfashioned bonnet, and supported by an arched stick, which served as a linchpin for the hind wheels; a bucket of grease hung under the hind axle, and the bottom of the kibitka was filled with straw; whole cost of outfit, thirteen dollars. before it were three horses, one in shafts and one on each side, the centre one having a high bow over his neck, painted yellow and red, to which a rein was tied for holding up his head, and also a bell, to a russian postillion more necessary than harness. the travellers took their places in the bottom of the kibitka, and the postillion, a rough, brutal-looking fellow, in gray coat and hat turned up at the sides, mounted in front, catching a seat where he could on the rim of the wagon, about three inches wide; and in this dashing equipage we started for a journey of a thousand miles to the capital of another kingdom. we rolled for the last time through the streets of st. petersburgh, gazed at the domes, and spires, and magnificent palaces, and in a few moments passed the barrier. i left st. petersburgh, as i did every other city, with a certain feeling of regret that, in all probability, i should never see it more; still the cracking of the postillion's whip and the galloping of the horses created in me that high excitement which i always felt in setting out for a new region. our first stage was to czarskoselo, our second to cazena, where there was another palace. it was dark when we reached the third, a small village, of which i did not even note the name. i shall not linger on this road, for it was barren of interest and incident, and through a continued succession of swamps and forests. for two hundred miles it tried the tenure of adhesion between soul and body, being made of the trunks of trees laid transversely, bound down by long poles or beams fastened into the ground with wooden pegs covered with layers of boughs, and the whole strewed over with sand and earth; the trunks in general were decayed and sunken, and the sand worn or washed away, reminding me of the worst of our western corduroy roads. our wagon being without springs, and our seats a full-length extension on straw on the bottom, without the bed, pillows, and cushions which the russians usually have, i found this ride one of the severest trials of physical endurance i ever experienced. my companion groaned and brushed his mustaches, and talked of the little girl at st. petersburgh. in my previous journey in russia i had found the refreshment of tea, and on this, often when almost exhausted, i was revived by that precious beverage. i stood it three days and nights, but on the fourth completely broke down. i insensibly slipped down at full length in the bottom of the wagon; the night was cold and rainy; my companion covered me up to the eyes with straw, and i slept from the early part of the evening like a dead man. the horses were changed three times; the wagon was lifted up under me, and the wheels greased; and three times my companion quarrelled with the postmaster over my body without waking me. about six o'clock in the morning he roused me. i could not stir hand or foot; my mouth was full of dust and straw, and i felt a sense of suffocation. in a few moments i crawled out, staggered a few steps, and threw myself down on the floor of a wretched posthouse. my companion put my carpet-bag under my head, wrapped cloaks and greatcoats around me, and prepared me some tea; but i loathed everything. i was in that miserable condition which every traveller has some time experienced; my head ringing, every bone aching, and perfectly reckless as to what became of me. while my companion stood over me i fell asleep, and believe i should have been sleeping there yet if he had not waked me. he said we must go on at all risks until we found a place where we could remain with some degree of comfort. i begged and entreated to be left to myself, but he was inexorable. he lifted me up, hauled me out to the kibitka, which was filled with fresh straw, and seated me within, supporting me on his shoulder. it was a beautiful day. we moved moderately, and toward evening came to a posthouse kept by a jew, or, rather, a jewess, who was so kind and attentive that we determined to stay there all night. she brought in some clean straw and spread it on the floor, where i slept gloriously. my companion was tougher than i, but he could not stand the fleas and bugs, and about midnight went out and slept in the kibitka. in the morning we found that he had been too late; that the kibitka had been stripped of every article except himself and the straw. fortunately, my carpet-bag had been brought in; but i received a severe blow in the loss of a cane, an old friend and travelling companion, which had been with me in every variety of scene, and which i had intended to carry home with me, and retain as a companion through life. it is almost inconceivable how much this little incident distressed me. it was a hundred times worse than the loss of my carpet-bag. i felt the want of it every moment; i had rattled it on the boulevards of paris, in the eternal city, the colosseum, and the places thereabout; had carried it up the burning mountain, and poked it into the red-hot lava; had borne it in the acropolis, on the field of marathon, and among the ruins of ephesus; had flourished it under the beard of the sultan, and the eyes and nose of the emperor and autocrat of all the russias; in deserts and in cities it had been my companion and friend. unsparing nemesis, let loose your vengeance upon the thief who stole it! the rascals had even carried off the rope traces, and every loose article about the kibitka. notwithstanding this, however, i ought not to omit remarking the general security of travelling in russia and poland. the immense plains; the distance of habitations; the number of forests; the custom of travelling by night as well as by day; the negligence of all measures to ensure the safety of the roads, all contribute to favour robbery and murders; and yet an instance of either is scarcely known in years. it was difficult on those immense levels, which seemed independent of either general or individual proprietors, to recognise even the bounds of empires. the dwina, however, a natural boundary, rolls between russia and poland; and at vitepsk we entered the territories of what was once another kingdom. the surface of poland forms part of that immense and unvaried plain which constitutes the northern portion of all the central european countries. a great portion of this plain is overspread with a deep layer of sand, alternating however, with large clayey tracts and extensive marshes; a winter nearly as severe as that of sweden, and violent winds blowing uninterruptedly over this wide open region, are consequences of its physical structure and position. the roman arms never penetrated any part of this great level tract, the whole of which was called by them sarmatia; and sarmatia and scythia were in their descriptions always named together as the abode of nomadic and savage tribes. from the earliest era it appears to have been peopled by the sclavonic tribes; a race widely diffused, and distinguished by a peculiar language, by a strong national feeling, and by a particular train of superstitious ideas. though shepherds, they did not partake of the migratory character of the teutonic or tartar nations; and were long held in the most cruel bondage by the huns, the goths, and other nations of asia, for whom their country was a path to the conquest of the west of europe. in the tenth century the poles were a powerful and warlike nation. in the fourteenth lithuania was incorporated with it, and poland became one of the most powerful monarchies in europe. for two centuries it was the bulwark of christendom against the alarming invasions of the turks; the reigns of sigismund and sobieski hold a high place in military history; and, until the beginning of the last century, its martial character gave it a commanding influence in europe. it is unnecessary to trace the rapid and irrecoverable fall of poland. on the second partition, kosciusko, animated by his recent struggle for liberty in america, roused his countrymen to arms. but the feet of three giants were upon her breast; and suwarrow, marching upon the capital, storming the fortress of praga, and butchering in cold blood thirty thousand inhabitants, extinguished, apparently for ever, the rights and the glories of poland. living as we do apart from the rest of the world, with no national animosities transmitted by our fathers, it is impossible to realize the feeling of deadly hatred existing between neighbouring nations from the disputes of ancestors centuries ago. the history of russia and poland presents a continued series of bloodstained pages. battle after battle has nourished their mutual hate, and for a long time it had been the settled feeling of both that russia or poland must fall. it is perhaps fortunate for the rest of europe that this feeling has always existed; for, if they were united in heart, the whole south of europe would lie at the mercy of their invading armies. napoleon committed a fatal error in tampering with the brave and patriotic poles; for he might have rallied around him a nation of soldiers who, in gratitude, would have stood by him until they were exterminated. but to return to vitepsk. here, for the first time, we fell into the memorable road traversed by napoleon on his way to moscow. the town stands on the banks of the dwina, built on both sides of the river, and contains a population of about fifteen thousand, a great portion of whom are jews. in itself, it has but little to engage the attention of the traveller; but i strolled through its streets with extraordinary interest, remembering it as the place where napoleon decided on his fatal march to moscow. it was at the same season and on the very same day of the year that the "grand army," having traversed the gloomy forests of lithuania in pursuit of an invincible and intangible enemy, with the loss of more than a hundred thousand men, emerged from the last range of woods and halted at the presence of the hostile fires that covered the plain before the city. napoleon slept in his tent on an eminence at the left of the main road, and before sunrise appeared at the advanced posts, and by its first rays saw the russian army, eighty thousand strong, encamped on a high plain commanding all the avenues of the city. ten thousand horsemen made a show of defending its passes; and at about ten o'clock, murat le beau sabreur, intoxicated by the admiration his presence excited, at the head of a single regiment of chasseurs charged the whole russian cavalry. he was repulsed, and driven back to the foot of the hillock on which napoleon stood. the chasseurs of the french guards formed a circle around him, drove off the assailant lancers, and the emperor ordered the attack to cease; and, pointing to the city, his parting words to murat were, "to-morrow at five o'clock the sun of austerlitz." at daylight the camp of barclay de tolly was deserted; not a weapon, not a single valuable left behind; and a russian soldier asleep under a bush was the sole result of the day expected to be so decisive. vitepsk, except by a few miserable jews and jesuits, like the russian camp, was also abandoned. the emperor mounted his horse and rode through the deserted camp and desolate streets of the city. chagrined and mortified, he pitched his tents in an open courtyard; but, after a council of war with murat, eugene, and others of his principal officers, laid his sword upon the table, and resolved to finish in vitepsk the campaign of that year. well had it been for him had he never changed that determination. he traced his line of defence on the map, and explored vitepsk and its environs as a place where he was likely to make a long residence; formed establishments of all kinds; erected large ovens capable of baking at once thirty thousand loaves of bread; pulled down a range of stone houses which injured the appearance of the square of the palace, and made arrangements for opening the theatre with parisian actors. but in a few days he was observed to grow restless; the members of his household recollected his expression at the first view of the deserted vitepsk, "do you think i have come so far to conquer these miserable huts?" segur says that he was observed to wander about his apartments as if pursued by some dangerous temptation. nothing could rivet his attention. every moment he began, stopped, and resumed his labour. at length, overwhelmed with the importance of the considerations that agitated him, "he threw himself on the floor of his apartment; his frame, exhausted by the heat and the struggles of his mind, could only bear a covering of the slightest texture. he rose from his sleepless pillow possessed once more with the genius of war; his voice deepens, his eyes flash fire, and his countenance darkens. his attendants retreat from his presence, struck with mingled awe and respect. his plan is fixed, his determination taken, his order of march traced out." the last council occupied eight hours. berthier by a melancholy countenance, by lamentations, and even by tears; lobau by the cold and haughty frankness of a warrior; caulaincourt with obstinacy and impetuosity amounting to violence; duroc by a chilling silence, and afterward by stern replies; and daru straightforward and with firmness immoveable, opposed his going; but, as if driven on by that fate he almost defied, he broke up the council with the fatal determination. "blood has not been shed, and russia is too great to yield without fighting. alexander can only negotiate after a great battle. i will proceed to the holy city in search of that battle, and i will gain it. peace waits me at the gates of moscow." from that hour commenced that train of terrible disasters which finally drove him from the throne of france, and sent him to die an exile on a small island in the indian ocean. i walked out on the moscow road, by which the grand army, with pomp and martial music, with murat, and ney, and duroc, and daru, inspired by the great names of smolensk and moscow, plunged into a region of almost pathless forest, where most of them were destined to find a grave. i was at first surprised at the utter ignorance of the inhabitants of vitepsk, in regard to the circumstances attending the occupation of the city by napoleon. a jew was my cicerone, who talked of the great scenes of which this little city had in his own day been the theatre almost as matter of tradition, and without half the interest with which, even now, the greek points the stranger to the ruins of argos or the field of marathon; and this ignorance in regard to the only matters that give an interest to this dreary road i remarked during the whole journey. i was so unsuccessful in my questions, and the answers were so unsatisfactory, that my companion soon became tired of acting as my interpreter. indeed, as he said, he himself knew more than any one i met, for he had travelled it before in company with an uncle, of the polish legion; but even he was by no means familiar with the ground. we left vitepsk with a set of miserable horses, rode all night, and at noon of the next day were approaching the banks of the berezina, memorable for the dreadful passage which almost annihilated the wretched remnant of napoleon's army. it was impossible, in passing over the same ground, not to recur to the events of which it had been the scene. the "invincible legions," which left vitepsk two hundred thousand strong, were now fighting their dreadful retreat from moscow through regulars and cossacks, reduced to less than twelve thousand men marching in column, with a train of thirty thousand undisciplined followers, sick, wounded, and marauders of every description. the cavalry which crossed the niemen thirty-seven thousand in number was reduced to one hundred and fifty men on horseback. napoleon collected all the officers who remained mounted, and formed them into a body, in all about five hundred, which he called his sacred squadron; officers served as privates, and generals of divisions as captains. he ordered the carriages of the officers, many of the wagons, and even the eagles belonging to the different corps, to be burned in his presence; and drawing his sword, with the stern remark that he had sufficiently acted the emperor, and must once more play the general, marched on foot at the head of his old guard. he had hardly reorganized before the immense pine forests which border the berezina echoed with the thunder of the russian artillery; in a moment all remains of discipline were lost. in the last stage of weakness and confusion they were roused by loud cries before them, and, to their great surprise and joy, recognised the armies of victor and oudinot. the latter knew nothing of the terrible disasters of the army of moscow, and they were thrown into consternation and then melted to tears when they saw behind napoleon, instead of the invincible legions which had left them in splendid equipments, a train of gaunt and spectral figures, their faces black with dirt, and long bristly beards, covered with rags, female pelisses, pieces of carpet, with bare and bleeding feet, or bundled with rags, and colonels and generals marching pellmell with soldiers, unarmed and shameless, without any order or discipline, kept together and sleeping round the same fires only by the instinct of self-preservation. about noon we drove into the town of borizoff. it stands on the banks of the berezina, and is an old, irregular-looking place, with a heavy wooden church in the centre of an open square. as usual, at the door of the posthouse a group of jews gathered around us. when napoleon took possession of borizoff the jews were the only inhabitants who remained; and they, a scattered, wandering, and migratory people, without any attachment of soil or country, were ready to serve either the french or russians, according to the inducements held out to them. a few noble instances are recorded where this persecuted and degraded people exhibited a devotion to the land that sheltered them honourable to their race and to the character of man; but in general they were false and faithless. those who gathered around us in borizoff looked as though they might be the very people who betrayed the russians. one of them told us that a great battle had been fought there, but we could not find any who had been present at the fatal passage of the river. we dined at the posthouse, probably with less anxiety than was felt by napoleon or any of the flying frenchmen; but even we were not permitted to eat in peace; for, before we had finished, our vehicle was ready, with worse horses than usual, and a surlier postillion. we sent the postillion on ahead, and walked down to the bank of the river. on the night preceding the passage, napoleon himself had command of borizoff, with six thousand guards prepared for a desperate contest. he passed the whole night on his feet; and while waiting for the approach of daylight in one of the houses on the border of the river, so impracticable seemed the chance of crossing with the army that murat proposed to him to put himself under the escort of some brave and determined poles, and save himself while there was yet time; but the emperor indignantly rejected the proposition as a cowardly flight. the river is here very broad, and divided into branches. on the opposite side are the remains of an embankment that formed part of the russian fortifications. when the russians were driven out of borizoff by oudinot, they crossed the river, burned the bridge, and erected these embankments. besides the sanguinary contest of the french and russians, this river is also memorable for a great battle between my companion and our postillion. in the middle of the bridge the postillion stopped and waited till we came up; he grumbled loudly at being detained, to which my companion replied in his usual conciliatory and insinuating manner, by laying his cane over the fellow's shoulders; but on the bridge of borizoff the blood of the lithuanian was roused; and, perhaps, urged on by the memory of the deeds done there by his fathers, he sprang out of the wagon, and with a warcry that would not have disgraced a cossack of the don, rushed furiously upon my friend. oh for a homer to celebrate that fight on the bridge of borizoff! the warriors met, not like grecian heroes, with spear and shield, and clad in steel, but with their naked fists and faces bare to take the blows. my friend was a sublime spectacle. like a rock, firm and immoveable, he stood and met the charge of the postillion; in short, in the twinkling of an eye he knocked the postillion down. those who know say that it is more trying to walk over a field of battle after all is over than to be in the fight; and i believe it from my experience in our trying passage of the berezina; for, when i picked up the discomfited postillion, whose face was covered with blood, i believe that i had the worst of it. all great victories are tested by their results, and nothing could be more decisive than that over the postillion. he arose a wiser and much more tractable man. at first he looked very stupid when he saw me leaning over him, and very startled when he rubbed his hand over his face and saw it stained with blood; but, raising himself, he caught sight of his victor, and without a word got into the wagon, walked the horses over the bridge, and at the other end got out and threw himself on the ground. it was a beautiful afternoon, and we lingered on the bridge. crossing it, we walked up the bank on the opposite side toward the place where napoleon erected his bridges for the passage of his army. all night the french worked at the bridges by the light of the enemy's fires on the opposite side. at daylight the fires were abandoned, and the russians, supposing the attempt here to be a feint, were seen in full retreat. the emperor, impatient to get possession of the opposite bank, pointed it out to the bravest. a french aiddecamp and lithuanian count threw themselves into the river, and, in spite of the ice, which cut their horses' breasts, reached the opposite bank in safety. about one o'clock the bank on which we stood was entirely cleared of cossacks, and the bridge for the infantry was finished. the first division crossed it rapidly with its cannon, the men shouting "_vive l'empereur!_" the passage occupied three days. the number of stragglers and the quantity of baggage were immense. on the night of the twenty-seventh the stragglers left the bridge, tore down the whole village, and made fires with the materials, around which they crouched their shivering figures, and from which it was impossible to tear themselves away. at daylight they were roused by the report of witgenstein's cannon thundering over their heads, and again all rushed tumultuously to the bridges. the russians, with platow and his cossacks, were now in full communication on both sides of the river. on the left bank, napoleon's own presence of mind and the bravery of his soldiers gave him a decided superiority; but, in the language of scott, the scene on the right bank had become the wildest and most horrible which war can exhibit. "victor, with eight or ten thousand men, covered the retreat over the bridges, while behind his line thousands of stragglers, old men, women, and children, were wandering by the side of this river like the fabled spectres which throng the banks of the infernal styx, seeking in vain for passage. the balls of the russians began to fall among the disordered mass, and the whole body rushed like distracted beings toward the bridges, every feeling of prudence or humanity swallowed up by the animal instinct of self-preservation. the weak and helpless either shrunk from the fray and sat down to wait their fate at a distance, or, mixing in it, were thrust over the bridges, crushed under carriages, cut down with sabres, or trampled to death under the feet of their countrymen. all this while the action continued with fury; and, as if the heavens meant to match their wrath with that of man, a hurricane arose and added terrors to a scene which was already of a character so dreadful. about midday the larger bridge, constructed for artillery and heavy carriages, broke down, and multitudes were forced into the water. the scream of the despairing multitude became at this crisis for a moment so universal, that it rose shrilly above the wild whistling of the tempest and the sustained and redoubled hourras of the cossacks. the dreadful scene continued till dark. as the obscurity came on, victor abandoned the station he had defended so bravely, and led the remnant of his troops in their turn across. all night the miscellaneous multitude continued to throng across the bridge under the fire of the russian artillery. at daybreak the french engineers finally set fire to the bridge, and all that remained on the other side, including many prisoners, and a great quantity of guns and baggage, became the property of the russians. the amount of the french loss was never exactly known; but the russian report concerning the bodies of the invaders, which were collected and burned as soon as the thaw permitted, states that upward of thirty-six thousand were found in the berezina." the whole of this scene was familiar to me as matter of history; the passage of the berezina had in some way fastened itself upon my mind as one of the most fearful scenes in the annals of war; and, besides this, at st. petersburgh the colonel and prince had given me a detailed account of the horrors of that dreadful night, for they were both with witgenstein's army, by the light of the snow, the course of the river, and the noise, directing a murderous fire of artillery against the dark mass moving over the bridge; and nearer still, my companion had visited the place in company with his uncle, of the polish legion, and repeated to me the circumstances of individual horror which he had heard from his relative, surpassing human belief. the reader will excuse me if i have lingered too long on the banks of that river; and perhaps, too, he will excuse me when i tell him that, before leaving it, i walked down to its brink and bathed my face in its waters. others have done so at the classic streams of italy and greece; but i rolled over the arno and the tiber in a vetturino without stopping, and the reader will remember that i jumped over the ilissus. chapter x. travel by night.--a rencounter.--a traveller's message.--lithuania.--poverty of the country.--agricultural implements.--minsk.--polish jews.--a coin of freedom.--riding in a basket.--brezc.--the bug.--a searching operation.--women labourers.--warsaw. it was after dark when we returned to our wagon, still standing at the end of the bridge opposite borizoff. our postillion, like a sensible man, had lain down to sleep at the head of his horses, so they could not move without treading on him and waking him; and, when we roused him, the pain of his beating was over, and with it all sense of the indignity; and, in fact, we made him very grateful for the flogging by promising him a few additional kopeks. we hauled up the straw and seated ourselves in the bottom of our kibitka. night closed upon us amid the gloomy forests bordering the banks of the berezina. we talked for a little while, and by degrees drawing our cloaks around us, each fell into a revery. the continued tinkling of the bell, which, on my first entering russia, grated on my ear, had become agreeable to me, and in a dark night particularly was a pleasing sound. the song of the postillion, too, harmonized with the repose of spirit at that moment most grateful to us; that too died away, the bell almost ceased its tinkling, and, in spite of the alarum of war which we had all day been ringing in our own ears, we should probably soon have fallen into a sleep as sound, for a little while at least, as that of them who slept under the waters of the berezina, but we were suddenly roused by a shock as alarming to quiet travellers as the hourra of the cossack in the ears of the flying frenchmen. our horses sprang out of the road, but not in time to avoid a concussion with another wagon going toward borizoff. both postillions were thrown off their seats; and the stranger, picking himself up, came at us with a stream of lithuanian russian almost harsh enough to frighten the horses. i will not suggest what its effect was upon us, but only that, as to myself, it seemed at first equal to the voice of at least a dozen freebooters and marauders; and if the english of it had been "stand and deliver," i should probably have given up my carpet-bag without asking to reserve a change of linen. but i was restored by the return fire of our postillion, who drowned completely the attack of his adversary by his outrageous clamour; and when he stopped to take breath my companion followed up the defence, and this brought out a fourth voice from the bottom of the opposite wagon. a truce was called, and waiving the question on which side the fault lay, we all got out to ascertain the damage. our antagonist passenger was a german merchant, used to roughing it twice every year between berlin, warsaw, petersburgh, and moscow, and took our smashing together at night in this desolate forest as coolly as a rub of the shoulders in the streets; and, when satisfied that his wagon was not injured, kindly asked us if we had any bones broken. we returned his kind inquiries; and, after farther interchanges of politeness, he said that he was happy to make our acquaintance, and invited us to come and see him at berlin. we wanted him to go back and let us have a look at him by torchlight, but he declined; and, after feeling him stretched out in his bed in the bottom of his wagon, we started him on his way. we resumed our own places, and, without dozing again, arrived at the posthouse, where first of all we made ourselves agreeable to the postmaster by delivering our german friend's message to him, that he ought to be whipped and condemned to live where he was till he was a hundred years old for putting the neck of a traveller at the mercy of a sleepy postillion; but the postmaster was a jew, and thought the vile place where he lived equal to any on earth. he was a miserable, squalid-looking object, with a pine torch in his hand lighting up the poverty and filthiness of his wretched habitation, and confessed that he should be too happy to enjoy the fortune which the german would have entailed upon him as a curse. he offered to make us a bed of some dirty straw which had often been slept on before; but we shrank from it; and, as soon as we could get horses, returned to our kibitka and resumed our journey. the whole province of lithuania is much the same in appearance. we lost nothing by travelling through it at night; indeed, every step that we advanced was a decided gain, as it brought us so much nearer its farthermost border. the vast provinces of lithuania, formerly a part of the kingdom of poland, and, since the partition of that unhappy country, subject to the throne of russia, until the fourteenth century were independent of either. the lithuanians and samogitians are supposed to be of a different race from the poles, and spoke a language widely dissimilar to the polish or russian. their religion was a strange idolatry; they worshipped the god of thunder, and paid homage to a god of the harvest; they maintained priests, who were constantly feeding a sacred fire in honour of the god of the seasons; they worshipped trees, fountains, and plants; had sacred serpents, and believed in guardian spirits of trees, cattle, &c. their government, like that of all other barbarous nations, was despotic, and the nobles were less numerous and more tyrannical than in poland. in the latter part of the fourteenth century, on the death of louis, successor to casimir the great, hedwiga was called to the throne of poland, under a stipulation, however, that she should follow the will of the poles in the choice of her husband. many candidates offered themselves for the hand dowered with a kingdom; but the offers of jagellon, duke of lithuania, were most tempting; he promised to unite his extensive dominions to the territory of poland, and pledged himself for the conversion to christianity of his lithuanian subjects. but queens are not free from the infirmities of human nature; and hedwiga had fixed her affections upon her cousin, william of austria, whom she had invited into poland; and when jagellon came to take possession of his wife and crown, she refused to see him. the nobles, however, sent william back to his papa, and locked her up as if she had been a boarding-school miss. and again, queens are not free from the infirmities of human nature: hedwiga was inconstant; the handsome lithuanian made her forget her first love, and poland and lithuania were united under one crown. jagellon was baptized, but the inhabitants of lithuania did not so readily embrace the christian religion; in one of the provinces they clung for a long time to their own strange and wild superstitions; and even in modern times, it is said, the peasants long obstinately refused to use ploughs or other agricultural instruments furnished with iron, for fear of wounding the bosom of mother earth. all the way from borizoff the road passes through a country but little cultivated, dreary, and covered with forests. when napoleon entered the province of lithuania his first bulletins proclaimed, "here, then, is that russia so formidable at a distance! it is a desert for which its scattered population is wholly insufficient. they will be vanquished by the very extent of territory which ought to defend them;" and, before i had travelled in it a day, i could appreciate the feeling of the soldier from la belle france, who, hearing his polish comrades boast of their country, exclaimed, "et ces gueux la appellent cette pays une patrie!" the villages are a miserable collection of straggling huts, without plan or arrangement, and separated from each other by large spaces of ground. they are about ten or twelve feet square, made of the misshapen trunks of trees heaped on each other, with the ends projecting over; the roof of large shapeless boards, and the window a small hole in the wall, answering the double purpose of admitting light and letting out smoke. the tenants of these wretched hovels exhibit the same miserable appearance both in person and manners. they are hard-boned and sallow-complexioned; the men wear coarse white woollen frocks, and a round felt cap lined with wool, and shoes made of the bark of trees, and their uncombed hair hangs low over their heads, generally of a flaxen colour. their agricultural implements are of the rudest kind. the plough and harrow are made from the branches of the fir tree, without either iron or ropes; their carts are put together without iron, consisting of four small wheels, each of a single piece of wood; the sides are made of the bark of a tree bent round, and the shafts are a couple of fir branches; their bridles and traces platted from the bark of trees, or composed merely of twisted branches. their only instrument to construct their huts and make their carts is a hatchet. they were servile and cringing in their expressions of respect, bowing down to the ground and stopping their carts as soon as we came near them, and stood with their caps in their hands till we were out of sight. the whole country, except in some open places around villages, is one immense forest of firs, perhaps sixty feet in height, compact and thick, but very slender. as we approached minsk the road was sandy, and we entered by a wooden bridge over a small stream and along an avenue of trees. minsk is one of the better class of lithuanian towns, being the chief town of the government of minsk, but very dirty and irregular. the principal street terminates in a large open square of grass and mean wooden huts. from this another street goes off at right angles, containing large houses, and joining with a second square, where some of the principal buildings are of brick. from this square several streets branch off, and enter a crowd of wooden hovels irregularly huddled together, and covering a large space of ground. the churches are heavily constructed, and in a style peculiar to lithuania, their gable ends fronting the street, and terminated at each corner by a square spire, with a low dome between them. the population is half catholic and half jewish, and the jews are of the most filthy and abject class. a few words with regard to the jews in poland. from the moment of crossing the borders of lithuania, i had remarked in every town and village swarms of people differing entirely from the other inhabitants in physical appearance and costume, and in whose sharply-drawn features, long beards, and flowing dresses, with the coal-black eyes and oriental costumes of the women, i at once recognised the dispersed and wandering children of israel. on the second destruction of jerusalem, when the roman general drove a plough over the site of the temple of solomon, the political existence of the jewish nation was annihilated, their land was portioned out among strangers, and the descendants of abraham were forbidden to pollute with their presence the holy city of their fathers. in the roman territories, their petition for the reduction of taxation received the stern answer of the roman, "ye demand exemption from tribute for your soil; i will lay it on the air you breathe;" and, in the words of the historian, "dispersed and vagabond, exiled from their native soil and air, they wander over the face of the earth without a king, either human or divine, and even as strangers they are not permitted to salute with their footsteps their native land." history furnishes no precise records of the emigration or of the first settlement of the israelites in the different countries of europe; but for centuries they have been found dispersed, as it was foretold they would be, over the whole habitable world, a strange, unsocial, and isolated people, a living and continued miracle. at this day they are found in all the civilized countries of europe and america, in the wildest regions of asia and africa, and even within the walls of china; but, after palestine, poland is regarded as their land of promise; and there they present a more extraordinary spectacle than in any country where their race is known. centuries have rolled on, revolutions have convulsed the globe, new and strange opinions have disturbed the human race, but the polish jew remains unchanged: the same as the dark superstition of the middle ages made him; the same in his outward appearance and internal dispositions, in his physical and moral condition, as when he fled thither for refuge from the swords of the crusaders. as early as the fourteenth century, great privileges were secured to the jews by casimir the great, who styled them his "faithful and able subjects," induced, according to the chronicles of the times, like ahasuerus of old, by the love of a beautiful esther. while in germany, italy, spain, portugal, and even in england and france, their whole history is that of one continued persecution, oppressed by the nobles, anathematized by the clergy, despised and abhorred by the populace, flying from city to city, arrested, and tortured, and burned alive, and sometimes destroying themselves by thousands to escape horrors worse than death; while all orders were arrayed in fierce and implacable hatred against them, in poland the race of israel found rest; and there they remain at this day, after centuries of residence, still a distinct people, strangers and sojourners in the land, mingling with their neighbours in the every-day business of life, but never mingling their blood; the direct descendants of the israelites who, three thousand years ago, went out from the land of egypt; speaking the same language, and practising the laws delivered to moses on the mountain of sinai; mourning over their fallen temple, and still looking for the messiah who shall bring together their scattered nation and restore their temporal kingdom. but notwithstanding the interest of their history and position, the polish jews are far from being an interesting people; they swarm about the villages and towns, intent on gain, and monopolizing all the petty traffic of the country. outward degradation has worked inward upon their minds; confined to base and sordid occupations, their thoughts and feelings are contracted to their stations, and the despised have become despicable. it was principally in his capacity of innkeeper that i became acquainted with the polish jew. the inn is generally a miserable hovel communicating with, or a room partitioned off in one corner of, a large shed serving as a stable and yard for vehicles; the entrance is under a low porch of timber; the floor is of dirt; the furniture consists of a long table, or two or three small ones, and in one corner a bunch of straw, or sometimes a few raised boards formed into a platform, with straw spread over it, for beds; at one end a narrow door leads into a sort of hole filled with dirty beds, old women, half-grown boys and girls, and children not overburdened with garments, and so filthy that, however fatigued, i never felt disposed to venture among them for rest. here the jew, assisted by a dirty-faced rachel, with a keen and anxious look, passes his whole day in serving out to the meanest customers beer, and hay, and corn; wrangling with and extorting money from intoxicated peasants; and, it is said, sometimes, after the day's drudgery is over, retires at night to his miserable hole to pore over the ponderous volumes filled with rabbinical lore; or sometimes his mind takes a higher flight, meditating upon the nature of the human soul; its relation to the divinity; the connexion between the spirit and the body; and indulging in the visionary hope of gaining, by means of cabalistic formula, command over the spirits of the air, the fire, the flood, and the earth. though the days of bitter persecution and hatred have gone by, the jews are still objects of contempt and loathing. once i remember pointing out to my postillion a beautiful jewish girl, and, with the fanatic spirit of the middle ages, himself one of the most degraded serfs in poland, he scorned the idea of marrying the fair daughter of israel. but this the jew does not regard; all he asks is to be secured from the active enmity of mankind. "like the haughty roman banished from the world, the israelite throws back the sentence of banishment, and still retreats to the lofty conviction that his race is not excluded as an unworthy, but kept apart as a sacred, people; humiliated, indeed, but still hallowed, and reserved for the sure though tardy fulfilment of the divine promises." the jews in poland are still excluded from all offices and honours, and from all the privileges and distinctions of social life. until the accession of nicolas, they were exempted from military service on payment of a tax; but since his time they have been subject to the regular conscription. they regard this as an alarming act of oppression, for the boys are taken from their families at twelve or thirteen, and sent to the army or the common military school, where they imbibe notions utterly at variance with the principles taught them by their fathers; and, probably, if the system continues, another generation will work a great change in the character of the jews of poland. but to return to the jews at minsk. as usual, they gathered around us before we were out of our kibitka, laid hold of our baggage, and in hebrew, lithuanian, and polish, were clamorous in offers of service. they were spare in figure, dressed in high fur caps and long black muslin gowns, shining and glossy from long use and tied around the waist with a sash; and here i remarked what has often been remarked by other travellers, when the features were at rest, a style of face and expression resembling the pictures of the saviour in the galleries in italy. while my companion was arranging for posthorses and dinner, i strolled through the town alone, that is, with a dozen israelites at my heels and on my return i found an accession of the stiff-necked and unbelieving race, one of whom arrested my attention by thrusting before me a silver coin. it was not an antique, but it had in my eyes a greater value than if it had been dug from the ruins of a buried city, and bore the image of julius cæsar. on the breaking out of the late revolution, one of the first acts of sovereignty exercised by the provincial government was to issue a national coin stamped with the arms of the old kingdom of poland, the white eagle and the armed cavalier, with an inscription around the rim, "god protect poland." when the revolution was crushed, with the view of destroying in the minds of the poles every memento of their brief but glorious moment of liberty, this coin was called in and suppressed, and another substituted in its place, with the polish eagle, by way of insult, stamped in a small character near the tip end of the wing of the double-headed eagle of russia. the coin offered me by the jew was one of the emission of the revolution, and my companion told me it was a rare thing to find one. i bought it at the jew's price, and put it in my pocket as a memorial of a brave and fallen people. i will not inflict upon the reader the particulars of our journey through this dreary and uninteresting country. we travelled constantly, except when we were detained for horses. we never stopped at night, for there seldom was any shelter on the road better than the jews' inns, and even in our kibitka we were better than there. but, unluckily, on the seventh day, our kibitka broke down; the off hind wheel snapped in pieces, and let us down rather suddenly in one of the autocrat's forests. our first impulse was to congratulate ourselves that this accident happened in daylight; and we had a narrow escape, for the sun had hardly begun to find its way into the dark forest. fortunately, too, we were but two or three versts from a posthouse. i had met with such accidents at home, and rigged a small tree (there being no such things as rails, property there not being divided by rail fences) under the hind axle, supporting it on the front. we lighted our pipes and escorted our crippled vehicle to the posthouse, where we bought a wheel off another wagon, much better than the old one, only about two inches lower. this, however, was not so bad as might be supposed, at least for me, who sat on the upper side, and had the stout figure of my companion as a leaning-post. at sloghan, about two hundred versts from brezc the frontier town of poland, we sold our kibitka for a breakfast, and took the _char de pôste_, or regular troika. this is the postboy's favourite vehicle; the body being made of twigs interlaced like a long basket, without a particle of iron, and so light that a man can lift up either end with one hand. our speed was increased wonderfully by the change; the horses fairly played with the little car at their heels; the drivers vied with each other, and several posts in succession we made nearly twenty versts in an hour. it will probably be difficult to throw the charm of romance around the troika driver; but he comes from the flower of the peasantry; his life, passed on the wild highways, is not without its vicissitudes, and he is made the hero of the russian's favourite popular ballads: "away, away, along the road the gallant troika bounds; while 'neath the douga, sadly sweet, their valdai bell resounds."[2] we passed the house of a _very respectable_ seigneur who had married his own sister. we stopped at his village and talked of him with the postmaster, by whom he was considered a model of the domestic virtues. the same day we passed the chateau of a nobleman who wrote himself cousin to the emperors of russia and austria, confiscated for the part he took in the late polish revolution, a melancholy-looking object, deserted and falling to ruins, its owner wandering in exile with a price upon his head. it rained hard during the day, for the first time since we left petersburgh; at night the rain ceased, but the sky was still overcast. for a long distance, and, in fact, a great part of the way from petersburgh, the road was bordered with trees. at eleven o'clock we stopped at a wretched posthouse, boiled water, and refreshed ourselves with deep potations of hot tea. we mounted our troika, the postillion shouted, and set off on a run. heavy clouds were hanging in the sky; it was so dark that we could not see the horses, and there was some little danger of a breakdown; but there was a high and wild excitement in hurrying swiftly through the darkness on a run, hearing the quick tinkling of the bell and the regular fall of the horses' hoofs, and seeing only the dark outline of the trees. we continued this way all night, and toward morning we were rattling on a full gallop through the streets of brezc. we drove into a large stable-yard filled with kibitkas, troikas, and all kinds of russian vehicles, at one end of which was a long low building kept by a jew. we dismounted, and so ended nearly three thousand miles of posting in russia. the jew, roused by our noise, was already at the door with a lighted taper in his hand, and gave us a room with a leather-covered sofa and a leather cushion for a pillow, where we slept till eleven o'clock the next day. we breakfasted, and in the midst of a violent rain crossed the bug, and entered the territory of poland proper. for many centuries the banks of the bug have been the battle-ground of the russians and poles. in the time of boleslaus the terrible, the russians were defeated there with great slaughter, and the river was so stained with blood that it has retained ever since the name of the _horrid_. before crossing we were obliged to exchange our russian money for polish, rubles for florins, losing, of course, heavily by the operation, besides being subjected to the bore of studying a new currency; and the moment we planted our feet on the conquered territory, though now nominally under the same government, we were obliged to submit to a most vexatious process. the custom-house stood at the end of the bridge, and, as matter of course, our postillion stopped there. our luggage was taken off the wagon, carried inside, every article taken out and laid on the floor, and a russian soldier stood over, comparing them with a list of prohibited articles as long as my arm. fortunately for me, the russian government had not prohibited travellers from wearing pantaloons and shirts in poland, though it came near faring hard with a morning-gown. my companion, however, suffered terribly; his wearing apparel was all laid out on one side, while a large collection of curious and pretty nothings, which he had got together with great affection at the capital, as memorials for his friends at home, were laid out separately, boxes opened, papers unrolled, and, with provoking deliberation, examined according to the list of prohibited things. it was a new and despotic regulation unknown to him, and he looked on in agony, every condemned article being just the one above all others which he would have saved; and when they had finished, a large pile was retained for the examination of another officer, to be sent on to warsaw in case of their being allowed to pass at all. i had frequently regretted having allowed the trouble and inconvenience to prevent my picking up curiosities; but when i saw the treasures of my friend taken from him, or, at least, detained for an uncertain time, i congratulated myself upon my good fortune. my friend was a man not easily disheartened; he had even got over the loss of his love at st. petersburgh; but he would rather have been turned adrift in poland without his pantaloons than be stripped of his precious bawbles. i had seen him roused several times on the road, quarrelling with postmasters and thumping postillions, but i had never before seen the full development of that extraordinary head of hair. he ground his teeth and cursed the whole russian nation, from the emperor nicolas down to the soldier at the custom-house. he was ripe for revolution, and, if a new standard of rebellion had been set up in poland, he would have hurried to range himself under its folds. i soothed him by striking the key-note of his heart. all the way from petersburgh he had sat mechanically, with his pocket-glass and brush, dressing his mustaches; but his heart was not in the work, until, as we approached the borders of poland, he began to recover from his petersburgh affair, and to talk of the beauty of the polish women. i turned him to this now. it is a fact that, while for ages a deadly hatred has existed between the russians and the poles, and while the russians are at this day lording it over the poles with the most arbitrary insolence and tyranny, beauty still asserts its lawful supremacy, and the polish women bring to their feet the conquerors of their fathers, and husbands, and brothers. the first posthouse at which we stopped confirmed all that my companion had said; for the postmaster's daughter was brilliantly beautiful, particularly in the melting wildness of a dark eye, indicating an asiatic or tartar origin; and her gentle influence was exerted in soothing the savage humour of my friend, for she sympathized in his misfortunes, and the more sincerely when she heard of the combs, and rings, and slippers, and other pretty little ornaments for sisters and female friends at home; and my pole could not resist the sympathy of a pretty woman. we had scarcely left the postmaster's daughter, on the threshold of poland, almost throwing a romance about the polish women, before i saw the most degrading spectacle i ever beheld in europe, or even in the barbarous countries of the east. forty or fifty women were at work in the fields, and a large, well-dressed man, with a pipe in his mouth and a long stick in his hand, was walking among them as overseer. in our country the most common labouring man would revolt at the idea of his wife or daughter working in the open fields. i had seen it, however, in gallant france and beautiful italy; but i never saw, even in the barbarous countries of the east, so degrading a spectacle as this; and i could have borne it almost anywhere better than in chivalric poland. we were now in the territory called poland proper, that is, in that part which, after the other provinces had been wrested away and attached to the dominions of the colossal powers around, until the revolution and conquest of 1830 had retained the cherished name of the kingdom of poland. the whole road is macadamized, smooth and level as a floor, from the banks of the bug to warsaw; the posthouses and postmasters are much better, and posting is better regulated, though more expensive. the road lay through that rich agricultural district which had for ages made poland celebrated as the granary of europe; and though the face of the country was perfectly flat, and the scenery tame and uninteresting, the soil was rich, and, at that time, in many places teeming with heavy crops. as yet, it had not recovered from the desolating effects of the war of the revolution. the whole road has been a battle-ground, over which the poles had chased the russians to the frontier, and been driven back to warsaw; time after time it had been drenched with russian and polish blood, the houses and villages sacked and burned, and their blackened ruins still cumbered the ground, nursing in the conquered but unsubdued pole his deep, undying hatred of the russians. on this road diebitsch, the crosser of the balkan, at the head of eighty thousand men, advanced to warsaw. his right and left wings manoeuvred to join him at siedler, the principal town, through which we passed. we changed horses three times, and rolled on all night without stopping. in the morning my companion pointed out an old oak, where a distinguished colonel of the revolution, drawing up the fourth polish regiment against the imperial guards, with a feeling of mortal hate commanded them to throw away their primings, and charge with the bayonet, "coeur à coeur." in another place five hundred gentlemen, dressed in black, with pumps, silk stockings, and small swords, in a perfect wantonness of pleasure at fighting with the russians, and, as they said, in the same spirit with which they would go to a ball, threw themselves upon a body of the guards, and, after the most desperate fighting, were cut to pieces to a man. farther on, a little off from the road, on the borders of the field of grokow, was a large mound covered with black crosses, thrown up over the graves of the poles who had fallen there. about eleven o'clock we approached the banks of the vistula. we passed the suburbs of praga, the last battle-ground of kosciusko, where the bloodstained suwarrow butchered in cold blood thirty thousand poles. warsaw lay spread out on the opposite bank of the river, the heroic but fallen capital of poland, the city of brave men and beautiful women; of stanislaus, and sobieski, and poniatowsky, and kosciusko, and, i will not withhold it, possessing in my eyes, a romantic interest from its associations with the hero of my schoolboy days, thaddeus of warsaw. on the right is the chateau of the old kings of poland, now occupied by a russian viceroy, with the banner of russia waving over its walls. we rode over the bridge and entered the city. martial music was sounding, and russian soldiers, cossacks, and circassians were filing through its streets. we held up to let them pass, and they moved like the keepers of a conquered city, with bent brows and stern faces, while the citizens looked at them in gloomy silence. we drove up to the hotel de leipsic (which, however, i do not recommend), where i took a bath and a doctor. footnote: [2] the douga is the bow over the neck of the middle horse, to which the bell is attached; and valdai the place on the moscow road where the best bells are made. chapter xi. warsaw.--a polish doctor.--battle of grokow.--the outbreak.--the fatal issue.--present condition of poland.--polish exiles.--aspect of warsaw.--traits of the poles. a letter dated at warsaw to my friends at home begins thus: "i have reached this place to be put on my back by a polish doctor. how long he will keep me here i do not know. he promises to set me going again in a week; and, as he has plenty of patients without keeping me down, i have great confidence in him. besides, having weathered a greek, an armenian, and a russian, i think i shall be too much for a pole." there was not a servant in the house who understood any language i spoke, and my friend kindly proposed my taking a room with him; and, as he had many acquaintances in warsaw, who thronged to see him, he had to tell them all the history of the american in the bed in one corner. all the next day i lay in the room alone on a low bedstead, looking up at the ceiling and counting the cracks in the wall. i was saved from a fit of the blues by falling into a passion, and throwing my boots at the servant because he could not understand me. late in the evening my friend returned from the theatre with three or four companions, and we made a night of it, i taking medicine and they smoking pipes. they were all excellent fellows, and, as soon as they heard me moving, came over to me, and, when i fell back on my pillow, covered me up, and went back, and talked till i wanted them again. toward daylight i fell asleep, and, when the doctor came in the morning, felt myself a new man. my doctor, by-the-way, was not a pole, but a german, physician to the court, and the first in warsaw; he occupied a little country-seat a few miles from warsaw, belonging to count niemcewicz, the poet and patriot, who accompanied kosciusko to this country, and married a lady of new-jersey; returned with him to poland, was with him on his last battle-field, and almost cut to pieces by his side. in the afternoon one of my companions of the night before came to see me. he had been in warsaw during the revolution, and talked with enthusiasm of their brief but gallant struggle; and, as it was a beautiful afternoon, proposed strolling to a little eminence near at hand, commanding a view of the first battle-ground. i went with him and he pointed out on the other side of the vistula the field of grokow. below it was the bridge over which general romarino carried his little army during the night, having covered the bridge, the horses' hoofs, and the wheels of the carriages with straw. this general is now in france under sentence of death, with a price set upon his head. the battle of grokow, the greatest in europe since that of waterloo, was fought on the twenty-fifth of february, 1831, and the place where i stood commanded a view of the whole ground. the russian army was under the command of diebitsch, and consisted of one hundred and forty-two thousand infantry, forty thousand cavalry, and three hundred and twelve pieces of cannon. this enormous force was arranged in two lines of combatants, and a third of reserve. its left wing, between wavre and the marshes of the vistula, consisted of four divisions of infantry of forty-seven thousand men, three of cavalry of ten thousand five hundred, and one hundred and eight pieces of cannon; the right consisted of three and a half divisions of infantry of thirty-one thousand men, four divisions of cavalry of fifteen thousand seven hundred and fifty men, and fifty-two pieces of cannon. upon the borders of the great forest opposite the forest of elders, conspicuous from where i stood, was placed the reserve, commanded by the grand-duke constantine. against this immense army the poles opposed less than fifty thousand men and a hundred pieces of cannon, under the command of general skrzynecki. at break of day the whole force of the russian right wing, with a terrible fire of fifty pieces of artillery and columns of infantry, charged the polish left with the determination of carrying it by a single and overpowering effort. the poles, with six thousand five hundred men and twelve pieces of artillery, not yielding a foot of ground, and knowing they could hope for no succour, resisted this attack for several hours, until the russians slackened their fire. about ten o'clock the plain was suddenly covered with the russian forces issuing from the cover of the forest, seeming one undivided mass of troops. two hundred pieces of cannon, posted on a single line, commenced a fire which made the earth tremble, and was more terrible than the oldest officers, many of whom had fought at marengo and austerlitz, had ever beheld. the russians now made an attack upon the right wing; but foiled in this as upon the left, diebitsch directed the strength of his army against the forest of elders, hoping to divide the poles into two parts. one hundred and twenty pieces of cannon were brought to bear on this one point, and fifty battalions, incessantly pushed to the attack, kept up a scene of massacre unheard of in the annals of war. a polish officer who was in the battle told me that the small streams which intersected the forest were so choked with dead that the infantry marched directly over their bodies. the heroic poles, with twelve battalions, for four hours defended the forest against the tremendous attack. nine times they were driven out, and nine times, by a series of admirably-executed manoeuvres, they repulsed the russians with immense loss. batteries, now concentrated in one point, were in a moment hurried to another, and the artillery advanced to the charge like cavalry, sometimes within a hundred feet of the enemy's columns, and there opened a murderous fire of grape. at three o'clock the generals, many of whom were wounded, and most of whom had their horses shot under them, and fought on foot at the head of their divisions, resolved upon a retrograde movement, so as to draw the russians on the open plain. diebitsch, supposing it to be a flight, looked over to the city and exclaimed, "well, then, it appears that, after this bloody day, i shall take tea in the belvidere palace." the russian troops debouched from the forest. a cloud of russian cavalry, with several regiments of heavy cuirassiers at their head, advanced to the attack. colonel pientka, who had kept up an unremitting fire from his battery for five hours, seated with perfect sang-froid upon a disabled piece of cannon, remained to give another effective fire, then left at full gallop a post which he had so long occupied under the terrible fire of the enemy's artillery. this rapid movement of his battery animated the russian forces. the cavalry advanced on a trot upon the line of a battery of rockets. a terrible discharge was poured into their ranks, and the horses, galled to madness by the flakes of fire, became wholly ungovernable, and broke away, spreading disorder in every direction; the whole body swept helplessly along the fire of the polish infantry, and in a few minutes was so completely annihilated that, of a regiment of cuirassiers who bore inscribed on their helmets the "invincibles," not a man escaped. the wreck of the routed cavalry, pursued by the lancers, carried along in its flight the columns of infantry; a general retreat commenced, and the cry of "poland for ever" reached the walls of warsaw to cheer the hearts of its anxious inhabitants. so terrible was the fire of that day, that in the polish army there was not a single general or staff officer who had not his horse killed or wounded under him; two thirds of the officers, and, perhaps, of the soldiers, had their clothes pierced with balls, and more than a tenth part of the army were wounded. thirty thousand russians and ten thousand poles were left on the field of battle; rank upon rank lay prostrate on the earth, and the forest of elders was so strewed with bodies that it received from that day the name of the "forest of the dead." the czar heard with dismay, and all europe with astonishment, that the crosser of the balkan had been foiled under the walls of warsaw. all day, my companion said, the cannonading was terrible. crowds of citizens, of both sexes and all ages, were assembled on the spot where we stood, earnestly watching the progress of the battle, sharing in all its vicissitudes, in the highest state of excitement as the clearing up of the columns of smoke showed when the russians or the poles had fled; and he described the entry of the remnant of the polish army into warsaw as sublime and terrible; their hair and faces were begrimed with powder and blood; their armour shattered and broken, and all, even dying men, were singing patriotic songs; and when the fourth regiment, among whom was a brother of my companion, and who had particularly distinguished themselves in the battle, crossed the bridge and filed slowly through the streets, their lances shivered against the cuirasses of the guards, their helmets broken, their faces black and spotted with blood, some erect, some tottering, and some barely able to sustain themselves in the saddle, above the stern chorus of patriotic songs rose the distracted cries of mothers, wives, daughters, and lovers, seeking among this broken band for forms dearer than life, many of whom were then sleeping on the battle-field. my companion told me that he was then a lad of seventeen, and had begged with tears to be allowed to accompany his brother; but his widowed mother extorted from him a promise that he would not attempt it. all day he had stood with his mother on the very spot where we did, his hand in hers, which she grasped convulsively, as every peal of cannon seemed the knell of her son; and when the lancers passed, she sprang from his side as she recognised in the drooping figure of an officer, with his spear broken in his hand, the figure of her gallant boy. he was then reeling in his saddle, his eye was glazed and vacant, and he died that night in their arms. the tyranny of the grand-duke constantine, the imperial viceroy, added to the hatred of the russians, which is the birthright of every pole, induced the unhappy revolution of eighteen hundred and thirty. although, on the death of alexander, constantine waived in favour of his brother nicolas his claim to the throne of russia, his rule in poland shows that it was not from any aversion to the exercise of power. when constantine was appointed its commander-in-chief, the polish army ranked with the bravest in europe. the polish legions under dombrowski and poniatowski had kept alive the recollections of the military glory of their fallen nation. almost annihilated by the bloody battles in italy, where they met their old enemies under suwarrow, the butcher of praga, the proud remnants reorganized and formed the fifth corps of the "grande armée," distinguished themselves at smolensk, borodino, kalouga, and the passage of the berezina, took the field with the wreck of the army in saxony, fought at dresden and leipsic, and, when napoleon told them, brave as they were, that they were free to go home if they pleased, they scorned to desert him in his waning fortunes, and accompanied him to paris. alexander promised an amnesty, and they marched with him to warsaw. within the first six months many officers of this army had been grossly insulted; an eyewitness told me that he had seen, on the great square of warsaw, the high sheriff tear off the epaulettes from the shoulders of an officer, and, in the presence of the whole troops, strike him on the cheek with his hand. it would, perhaps, be unjust to enumerate, as i heard them, the many causes of oppression that roused to revolt the slumbering spirit of the poles; in the midst of which the french revolution threw all poland into commotion. the three days of july were hailed with rapture by every patriotic heart; the new revolutionary movements in belgium cheered them on; and eighty young men, torn from the altars while praying for the souls of their murdered countrymen on the anniversary of the butchery at praga, thrilled every heart and hurried the hour of retribution. the enthusiasm of youth struck the first blow. a band of ardent young men of the first families attended the meetings of secret patriotic associations; and six of them, belonging to the military school, suspecting they were betrayed, early in the evening went to their barracks, and proposed to their comrades a plan for liberating their country. the whole corps, not excepting one sick in bed, amounting in all to about a hundred and fifty, took up arms, and, under a lieutenant of nineteen, attacked the palace of constantine, and almost secured his person. the grand-duke was then asleep on a couch in a room opening upon a corridor of the belvidere palace, and, roused by a faithful valet, had barely time to throw a robe over him and fly. the insurgents, with cries of vengeance, rushed into the interior of the palace, driving before them the chief of the city police and the aiddecamp of the grand-duke. the latter had the presence of mind to close the door of the grand-duke's apartment before he was pierced through with a dozen bayonets. the wife of the grand-duke, the beautiful and interesting princess for whom he had sacrificed a crown, hearing the struggle, was found on her knees offering up prayers to heaven for the safety of her husband. constantine escaped by a window; and the young soldiers, foiled in their attempt, marched into the city, and, passing the barracks of the russian guards, daringly fired a volley to give notice of their coming. entering the city, they broke open the prisons and liberated the state prisoners, burst into the theatres, crying out, "women, home; men, to arms," forced the arsenal, and in two hours forty thousand men were under arms. very soon the fourth polish regiment joined them; and before midnight the remainder of the polish troops in warsaw, declaring that their children were too deeply implicated to be abandoned, espoused the popular cause. some excesses were committed; and general stanislaus potocki, distinguished in the revolution of kosciusko, for hesitating was killed, exclaiming with his last breath that it was dreadful to die by the hands of his countrymen. chlopicki, the comrade of kosciusko, was proclaimed dictator by an immense multitude in the champ de mars. for some time the inhabitants of warsaw were in a delirium; the members of the patriotic association, and citizens of all classes, assembled every day, carrying arms, and with glasses in their hands, in the saloon of the theatre and at a celebrated coffee-house, discussing politics and singing patriotic songs. in the theatres the least allusion brought down thunders of applause, and at the end of the piece heralds appeared on the stage waving the banners of the dismembered provinces. in the pit they sang in chorus national hymns; the boxes answered them; and sometimes the spectators finished by scaling the stage and dancing the mazurka and the cracoviak. the fatal issue of this revolution is well known. the polish nation exerted and exhausted its utmost strength, and the whole force of the colossal empire was brought against it, and, in spite of prodigies of valour, crushed it. the moment, the only moment when gallant, chivalric, and heroic poland could have been saved and restored to its rank among nations, was suffered to pass by, and no one came to her aid. the minister of france threw out the bold boast that a hundred thousand men stood ready to march to her assistance; but france and all europe looked on and saw her fall. her expiring diet ordered a levy in mass, and made a last appeal, "in the name of god; in the name of liberty; of a nation placed between life and death; in the name of kings and heroes who have fought for religion and humanity; in the name of future generations; in the name of justice and the deliverance of europe;" but her dying appeal was unheard. her last battle was under the walls of warsaw; and then she would not have fallen, but even in poland there were traitors. the governor of warsaw blasted the laurels won in the early battles of the revolution by the blackest treason. he ordered general romarino to withdraw eight thousand soldiers and chase the russians beyond the frontier at brezc. while he was gone the russians pressed warsaw; he could have returned in time to save it, but was stopped with directions not to advance until farther orders. in the mean time warsaw fell, with the curse of every pole upon the head of its governor. the traitor now lives ingloriously in russia, disgraced and despised, while the young lieutenant is in unhappy but not unhonoured exile in siberia. so ended the last heroic struggle of poland. it is dreadful to think so, but it is greatly to be feared that poland is blotted for ever from the list of nations. indeed, by a late imperial ukase, poland is expunged from the map of europe; her old and noble families are murdered, imprisoned, or in exile; her own language is excluded from the offices of government, and even from the public schools; her national character destroyed; her national dress proscribed; her national colours trampled under foot; her national banner, the white eagle of poland, is in the dust. warsaw is abandoned, and become a russian city; her best citizens are wandering in exile in foreign lands, while cossack and circassian soldiers are filing through her streets, and the banner of russia is waving over her walls. perhaps it is not relevant, but i cannot help saying that there is no exaggeration in the stories which reach us at our own doors of the misfortunes and sufferings of polish exiles. i have met them wandering in many different countries, and particularly i remember one at cairo. he had fought during the whole polish revolution, and made his escape when warsaw fell. he was a man of about thirty-five years of age, dressed in a worn military frockcoat, and carrying himself with a manly and martial air. he had left a wife and two children at warsaw. at constantinople he had written to the emperor requesting permission to return, and even promising never again to take up arms against russia, but had received for answer that the amnesty was over and the day of grace was past; and the unfortunate pole was then wandering about the world like a cavalier of fortune or a knight of romance, with nothing to depend upon but his sword. he had offered his services to the sultan and to the pacha of egypt; he was then poor, and, with the bearing of a gentleman and the pride of a soldier, was literally begging his bread. i could sympathize in the misfortunes of an exiled pole, and felt that his distress must indeed be great, that he who had perilled life and ties dearer than life in the cause of an oppressed country, should offer his untarnished sword to the greatest despot that ever lived. the general appearance of warsaw is imposing. it stands on a hill of considerable elevation on the left bank of the vistula; the zamech or chateau of the kings of poland spreads its wings midway between the river and the summit of the hill, and churches and towering spires checker at different heights the distant horizon. most of the houses are built of stone, or brick stuccoed; they are numbered in one continued series throughout the city, beginning from the royal palace (occupied by paskiewitch), which is numbered _one_, and rising above number five thousand. the churches are numerous and magnificent; the palaces, public buildings, and many of the mansions of noblemen, are on a large scale, very showy, and, in general, striking for their architectural designs. one great street runs irregularly through the whole city, of which miodowa, or honey-street, and the novoy swiat, or new world, are the principal and most modern portions. as in all aristocratic cities, the streets are badly paved, and have no trottoirs for the foot passengers. the russian drosky is in common use; the public carriages are like those in western europe, though of a low form; the linings generally painted red; the horses large and handsome, with large collars of red or green, covered with small brass rings, which sound like tinkling bells; and the carts are like those in our own city, only longer and lower, and more like our brewer's dray. the hotels are numerous, generally kept in some of the old palaces, and at the entrance of each stands a large porter, with a cocked hat and silver-headed cane, to show travellers to their apartments and receive the names of visiters. there are two principal kukiernia, something like the french cafés, where many of the varsovians breakfast and lounge in the mornings. [illustration: royal palace at warsaw.] the poles, in their features, looks, customs, and manners, resemble asiatics rather than europeans; and they are, no doubt, descended from tartar ancestors. though belonging to the sclavonic race, which occupies nearly the whole extent of the vast plains of western europe, they have advanced more than the others from the rude and barbarous state which characterizes this race; and this is particularly manifest at warsaw. an eyewitness, describing the appearance of the polish deputies at paris sent to announce the election of henry of anjou as successor of sigismund, says, "it is impossible to describe the general astonishment when we saw these ambassadors in long robes, fur caps, sabres, arrows, and quivers; but our admiration was excessive when we saw the sumptuousness of their equipages; the scabbards of their swords adorned with jewels; their bridles, saddles, and horse-cloths decked in the same way," &c. but none of this barbaric display is now seen in the streets of warsaw. indeed, immediately on entering it i was struck with the european aspect of things. it seemed almost, though not quite, like a city of western europe, which may, perhaps, be ascribed, in a great measure, to the entire absence of the semi-asiatic costumes so prevalent in all the cities of russia, and even at st. petersburgh; and the only thing i remarked peculiar in the dress of the inhabitants was the remnant of a barbarous taste for show, exhibiting itself in large breastpins, shirt-buttons, and gold chains over the vest; the mustache is universally worn. during the war of the revolution immediately succeeding our own, warsaw stood the heaviest brunt; and when kosciusko fell fighting before it, its population was reduced to seventy five thousand. since that time it has increased, and is supposed now to be one hundred and forty thousand, thirty thousand of whom are jews. calamity after calamity has befallen warsaw; still its appearance is that of a gay city. society consists altogether of two distinct and distant orders, the nobles and the peasantry, without any intermediate degrees. i except, of course, the jews, who form a large item in her population, and whose long beards, thin and anxious faces, and piercing eyes met me at every corner of warsaw. the peasants are in the lowest stage of mental degradation. the nobles, who are more numerous than in any other country in europe, have always, in the eyes of the public, formed the people of poland. they are brave, prompt, frank, hospitable, and gay, and have long been called the french of the north, being french in their habits, fond of amusements, and living in the open air, like the lounger in the palais royal, the tuileries, the boulevards, and luxembourgh, and particularly french in their political feelings, the surges of a revolution in paris being always felt at warsaw. they regard the germans with mingled contempt and aversion, calling them "dumb" in contrast with their own fluency and loquacity; and before their fall were called by their neighbours the "proud poles." they consider it the deepest disgrace to practise any profession, even law or medicine, and, in case of utmost necessity, prefer the plough. a sicilian, a fellow-passenger from palermo to naples, who one moment was groaning in the agony of seasickness and the next playing on his violin, said to me, "canta il, signore?" "do you sing?" i answered "no;" and he continued, "suonate?" "do you play?" i again answered "no;" and he asked me, with great simplicity, "cosa fatte? niente?" "what do you do? nothing?" and i might have addressed the same question to every pole in warsaw. the whole business of the country is in the hands of the jews, and all the useful and mechanical arts are practised by strangers. i did not find a pole in a single shop in warsaw; the proprietors of the hotels and coffee-houses are strangers, principally germans; my tailor was a german; my shoemaker a frenchman, and the man who put a new crystal in my watch an italian from milan. but though this entire absence of all useful employment is, on grounds of public policy, a blot on their national character, as a matter of feeling it rather added to the interest with which i regarded the "proud poles;" and perhaps it was imaginary, but i felt all the time i was in warsaw that, though the shops and coffee-houses were open, and crowds thronged the streets, a sombre air hung over the whole city; and if for a moment this impression left me, a company of cossacks, with their wild music, moving to another station, or a single russian officer riding by in a drosky, wrapped in his military cloak, reminded me that the foot of a conqueror was upon the necks of the inhabitants of warsaw. this was my feeling after a long summer day's stroll through the streets; and in the evening i went to the theatre, which was a neat building, well filled, and brilliantly lighted; but the idea of a pervading and gloomy spirit so haunted me that in a few moments i left what seemed a heartless mockery of pleasure. i ought to add that i did not understand a word of the piece; the _triste_ air which touched me may have been induced by the misfortunes of the stage hero; and, in all probability, i should have astonished a melancholy-looking neighbour if, acting under my interpretation of his visage, i had expressed to him my sympathy in the sufferings of his country. chapter xii. religion of poland.--sunday in warsaw.--baptized jews.--palaces of the polish kings.--sobieski.--field of vola.--wreck of a warrior.--the poles in america.--a polish lady.--troubles of a passport.--departure from warsaw.--an official rachel.--a mysterious visiter. sunday at warshaw. poland is distinguished above the other nations of europe as a land of religious toleration. so late as the latter part of the tenth century, the religion of poland was a gross idolatry; and, mingled with the rites of their own country, they worshipped, under other names, jupiter, pluto, mars, venus, diana, and others of the pagan deities. during the reign of mieczylaus i. of the piast dynasty, the monks introduced christianity. the prince himself was proof against the monks, but received from woman's lips the principles of the christian religion. enamoured of dombrowska, the daughter of the duke of bohemia, a country which had then lately embraced christianity, who refused to accept his suit unless he was baptized, mieczylaus sacrificed the superstitions and prejudices of his fathers on the altar of love. but the religion which he embraced for the sake of dombrowska he afterward propagated for its own; became an ardent champion of the cross; broke down with his own hands the idols of his country; built christian churches on the ruins of pagan temples; and, in the ardour of his new faith, issued an edict that, when any portion of the gospel was read, the hearers should half draw their swords to testify their readiness to defend its truth. in the reign of the "famous" john sobieski, the annals of poland, till that time free from this disgrace, were stained by one of the most atrocious acts of barbarity recorded in the history of religious persecution. a lithuanian nobleman, a religious and benevolent man, but sufficiently intelligent to ridicule some of the current superstitions, and very rich, on account of a note made in the margin of a book, written by a stupid german, was tried for atheism by a council of bigoted catholic bishops, and found guilty, not only of "having denied the existence of a god, but the doctrine of the trinity and the divine maternity of the virgin mary." zaluski, one of the villains concerned in the torment, writes, "the convict was led to the scaffold, where the executioner, with a red-hot iron, tore his tongue and his mouth, _with which he had been cruel toward god_; then they burned his hands, instruments of the abominable production, at a slow fire. the sacrilegious paper was thrown into the flame; himself last; that monster of the age, that deicide, was cast into the flames of expiation, if such a crime could be atoned." in seventeen hundred and twenty-six the jesuits, making a public procession with the host in the streets of thorn, the young scholars of the order insisted that some lutheran children should kneel; and on their refusal a scuffle ensued between the jesuits and townspeople, most of whom were lutherans, in which the enraged townspeople broke open the jesuits' college, profaned all the objects of worship, and, among others an image of the virgin. the catholics of poland, assembled in the diet, almost infuriated with fanatic zeal, condemned to death the magistrates of thorn for not exercising their authority. seven of the principal citizens were also condemned to death; many were imprisoned or banished; three persons, accused of throwing the virgin's image into the fire, lost their right arms, and the whole city was deprived of the freedom of public worship. this was the last act of religious persecution in poland; but even yet the spirit of the reformation has made but little progress, and the great bulk of the people are still groping in the darkness of catholicism. on every public road and in all the streets of warsaw stand crosses, sometimes thirty feet high, with a figure of the saviour large as life, sometimes adorned with flowers and sometimes covered with rags. as in all catholic cities, a sunday in warsaw is a fête day. i passed the morning in strolling through the churches, which are very numerous, and some of them, particularly the cathedral church of st. john and that of the holy cross, of colossal dimensions. the scene was the same as in the catholic churches in italy; at every door crowds were entering and passing out, nobles, peasants, shopmen, drosky boys, and beggars; the highborn lady descended from her carriage, dipped her fingers in the same consecrated water, and kneeled on the same pavement side by side with the beggar; alike equal in god's house, and outside the door again an immeasurable distance between them. at twelve o'clock, by appointment, i met my travelling companion and another of his friends in the jardin de saxe, the principal public garden in warsaw. it stands in the very heart of the city, in the rear of the palais de saxe, built by the elector of saxony when called to the throne of poland. it is enclosed all around by high brick walls, screened by shrubs, and vines, and trees rising above, so as to exclude the view of the houses facing it. it is handsomely laid out with lawns and gravel-walks, and adorned with trees; and as the grounds are exceedingly rural and picturesque, and the high walls and trees completely shut out the view of all surrounding objects, i could hardly realize that i was in the centre of a populous city. it was then the fashionable hour for promenade, and all the élite of warsaw society was there. i had heard of this sunday promenade, and, after making one or two turns on the principal walk, i remarked to my companions that i was disappointed in not seeing, as i had expected, a collection of the highborn and aristocratic poles; but they told me that, changed as warsaw was in every particular, in nothing was this change more manifest than in the character of this favourite resort. from boyhood, one of them had been in the habit of walking there regularly on the same day and at the same hour; and he told me that, before the revolution, it had always been thronged by a gay and brilliant collection of the nobility of warsaw; and he enumerated several families whose names were identified with the history of poland, who were in the habit of being there at a certain time, as regularly as the trees which then shaded our walk; but since the revolution these families were broken up and dispersed, and their principal members dead or in exile, or else lived retired, too proud in their fallen state to exhibit themselves in public places, where they were liable to be insulted by the presence of their russian conquerors; and i could well appreciate the feeling which kept them away, for russian officers, with their rattling swords and nodding plumes, and carrying themselves with a proud and lordly air, were the most conspicuous persons present. i had noticed one party, a dark, pale, and interesting-looking man, with an elegant lady and several children and servants, as possessing, altogether, a singularly melancholy and aristocratic appearance; but the interest i was disposed to take in them was speedily dispelled by hearing that he was a baptized jew, a money broker, who had accumulated a fortune by taking advantage of the necessities of the distressed nobles. indeed, next to the russian officers, the baptized jews were the most prominent persons on the promenade. these persons form a peculiar class in warsaw, occupying a position between the israelites and christians, and amalgamating with neither. many of them are rich, well educated, and accomplished, and possess great elegance of appearance and manner. they hate most cordially their unregenerated brethren, and it is unnecessary to say that this hate is abundantly reciprocated. it was with a feeling of painful interest that i strolled through this once favourite resort of the nobility of warsaw; and my companions added to this melancholy feeling by talking in a low tone, almost in whispers, and telling me that now the promenade was always _triste_ and dull; and in going out they led me through a private walk, where an old noble, unable to tear himself from a place consecrated by the recollections of his whole life, still continued to take his daily walk apart from the crowd, wearing out the evening of his days in bitter reflections on the fallen condition of his kindred and country. we dined, as usual, at a restaurant, where at one table was a party of swiss, here, as at moscow, exercising that talent, skill, and industry which they exhibit all over the world, and consoling themselves for the privations of exile with the hope of one day being able to return to their native mountains, never to leave them again. after dinner we took an open carriage, and at the barrier entered one of the numerous avenues of the ujazdow, leading to belvidere, the country residence of the late grand-duke constantine. the avenue is divided by rows of old and stately trees, terminating in a large circular octagon, from which branch off eight other avenues, each at a short distance crossed by others, and forming a sort of labyrinth, said to be one of the finest drives and promenades in europe, and on sundays the rendezvous of nearly the entire population of warsaw. it was a beautiful afternoon, and the throng of carriages, and horsemen, and thousands of pedestrians, and the sun, occasionally obscured and then breaking through the thick foliage, darkening and again lighting up the vista through the trees, gave a beauty to the landscape, and a variety and animation to the scene, that i had not yet found in warsaw. passing the belvidere palace, my companions described the manner in which the students had made their attack upon it, and pointed out the window by which constantine escaped. turning from one of the splendid avenues of the ujazdow, we crossed a stone bridge, on which stands the equestrian statue of john sobieski, his horse rearing over the body of a prostrate turk; it was erected to him as the saviour of christendom after he had driven the turks from the walls of vienna. beyond this we entered the grounds and park of lazienki, formerly the country residence of stanislaus augustus, situated in a most delightful spot on the banks of the vistula. the royal villa stands in the midst of an extensive park of stately old trees, and the walks lead to a succession of delightful and romantic spots, adorned with appropriate and tasteful buildings. among them, on an island reached by crossing a rustic bridge, are a winter and a summer theatre, the latter constructed so as to resemble, in a great measure, an ancient amphitheatre in ruins; in it performances used formerly to take place in the open air. i am not given to dreaming, and there was enough in the scenes passing under my eyes to employ my thoughts; but, as i wandered through the beautiful walks, and crossed romantic bridges, composed of the trunks and bended branches of trees, i could not help recurring to the hand that had planned these beauties, the good king stanislaus. "dread pultowa's day, when fortune left the royal swede," hurled stanislaus from his throne; and as i stood under the portico of his palace, i could but remember that its royal builder had fled from it in disguise, become a prisoner to the turks, and died an exile in a foreign land. from here we rode to the chateau of villanow, another and one of the most interesting of the residences of the kings of poland, constructed by john sobieski and perhaps the only royal structure in europe which, like some of the great edifices of egypt and rome, was erected by prisoners taken in war, being constructed entirely by the hands of turkish captives. it was the favourite residence of sobieski, where he passed most of his time when not in arms, and where he closed his days. until lately, the chamber and bed on which he died might still be seen. the grounds extend for a great distance along the banks of the vistula, and many of the noble trees which now shade the walks were planted by sobieski's own hands. the reign of sobieski is the most splendid era in the history of poland. the great statue i had just passed presented him as the conqueror of the turks, the deliverer of christendom, the redoubtable warrior, riding over the body of a prostrate mussulman; and every stone in the palace is a memorial of his warlike triumphs; but if its inner chambers could tell the scenes of which they had been the witness, loud and far as the trumpet of glory has sounded his name, no man would envy john sobieski. the last time he unsheathed his sword, in bitterness of heart he said, "it will be easier to get the better of the enemies i am in quest of than my own sons." he returned broken with vexation and shattered with wounds, more than sixty years old, and two thirds of his life spent in the tented field; his queen drove his friends from his side, destroyed that domestic peace which he valued above all things, and filled the palace with her plots and intrigues. he had promised to zaluski an office which the queen wished to give to another. "my friend," said the dying monarch, "you know the rights of marriage, and you know if i can resist the prayers of the queen; it depends, then, on you that i live tranquil or that i be constantly miserable. she has already promised to another this vacant office, and if i do not consent to it i am obliged to fly my house. i know not where i shall go to die in peace. you pity me; you will not expose me to public ridicule." old and infirm, with gray hairs and withered laurels, a prey to lingering disease, the deathbed of the dying warrior was disturbed by a noise worse than the din of battle; and before the breath had left him, an intriguing wife and unnatural children were wrangling over his body for the possession of his crown. a disgraceful struggle was continued a short time after his death. one by one his children died, and there is not now any living of the name of sobieski. the next day i visited the field of vola, celebrated as the place of election of the kings of poland. it is about five miles from warsaw, and was formerly surrounded by a ditch with three gates, one for great poland, one for little poland, and one for lithuania. in the middle were two enclosures, one of an oblong shape, surrounded by a kind of rampart or ditch, in the centre of which was erected, at the time of election, a vast temporary building of wood, covered at the top and open at the sides, which was called the zopa, and occupied by the senate; and the other of a circular shape, called the kola, in which the nuncios assembled in the open air. the nobles, from a hundred and fifty thousand to two hundred thousand in number, encamped on the plain in separate bodies under the banners of their respective palatinates, with their principal officers in front on horseback. the primate, having declared the names of the candidates, kneeled down and chanted a hymn; and then, mounting on horseback, went round the plain and collected the votes, the nobles not voting individually, but each palatinate in a body. it was necessary that the election should be unanimous, and a single nobleman peremptorily stopped the election of ladislaus vii. being asked what objection he had to him, he answered, "none at all; but i will not suffer him to be king." after being by some means brought over, he gave the king as the reason for his opposition, "i had a mind to see whether our liberty was still in being or not. i am satisfied that it is, and your majesty shall not have a better subject than myself." if the palatinates agreed, the primate asked again, and yet a third time if all were satisfied; and, after a general approbation, three times proclaimed the king; and the grand marshal of the crown repeated the proclamation three times at the gates of the camp. it was the exercise of this high privilege of electing their own king which created and sustained the lofty bearing of the polish nobles, inducing the proud boast which, in a moment of extremity, an intrepid band made to their king, "what hast thou to fear with twenty thousand lances? if the sky should fall, we would keep it up with their points." but, unhappily, although the exercise of this privilege was confined only to the nobles, the election of a king often exhibited a worse picture than all the evils of universal suffrage with us. the throne was open to the whole world; the nobles were split into contending factions; foreign gold found its way among them, and sometimes they deliberated under the bayonets of foreign troops. warsaw and its environs were a scene of violence and confusion, and sometimes the field of vola was stained with blood. still no man can ride over that plain without recurring to the glorious hour when sobieski, covered with laurels won in fighting the battles of his country, amid the roar of cannon and the loud acclamations of the senate, the nobles, and the army, was hailed the chosen king of a free people. i had enough of travelling post, and was looking out for some quiet conveyance to cracow. a jew applied to me, and i went with him to look at his carriage, which i found at a sort of "bull's-head" stopping-place, an enormous vehicle without either bottom or top, being a species of framework like our hay-wagons, filled with straw to prevent goods and passengers from spilling out. he showed me a couple of rough-looking fellows, who would be my _compagnons de voyage_, and who said that we could all three lie very comfortably in the bottom of the vehicle. their appearance did not add to the recommendation of the wagon; nevertheless, if i had understood the language and been strong enough for the rough work, i should perhaps have taken that conveyance, as, besides the probable incidents of the journey, it would give me more insight into the character of the people than a year's residence in the capital. returning to my hotel, i found that a polish officer had left his address, with a request for me to call upon him. i went, and found a man of about forty, middle sized, pale and emaciated, wounded and an invalid, wearing the polish revolutionary uniform. it was the only instance in which i had seen this dress. after the revolution it had been absolutely proscribed; but the country being completely subdued, and the government in this particular case not caring to exercise any unnecessary harshness, he was permitted to wear it unmolested. it was, however, almost in mockery that he still wore the garb of a soldier; for if poland had again burst her chains, and the unsheathed sword were put in his hands, he could not have struck a blow to help her. unfortunately, he could not speak french, or, rather, i may say fortunately, for in consequence of this i saw his lady, a pensive, melancholy, and deeply-interesting woman, dressed in black, in mourning for two gallant brothers who died in battle under the walls of warsaw. their business with me was of a most commonplace nature. they had lately returned from a visit to some friends at cracow, in a calêche hired at the frontier; and hearing from the peasant who drove them that a stranger was looking for a conveyance to that place, out of good-will to him desired to recommend him to me. the lady had hardly finished a sort of apologizing commencement before i had resolved to assent to almost anything she proposed; and when she stated the whole case, it was so exactly what i wanted, that i expressed myself under great obligations for the favour done me. i suggested, however, my doubts as to the propriety of undertaking the journey alone, without any interpreter; but, after a few words with the major, she replied that she would give full directions to the peasant as to the route. as the carriage could not go beyond the frontier, her husband would give me a letter to the commissaire at michoof, who spoke french, and also to the postmaster; and, finally, she would herself make out for me a vocabulary of the words likely to be most necessary, so as to enable me to ask for bread, milk, eggs, &c.; and with this, and the polish for "how much," i would get along without any difficulty. while she was writing, another officer came in, old and infirm, and also dressed in the polish uniform. she rose from the table, met him almost at the door, kissed him affectionately, led him to a seat, and barely mentioning him to me as "_mon beau père_," resumed her work. while she was writing i watched attentively the whole three, and the expression of face with which the two officers regarded her was unspeakably interesting. they were probably unconscious of it, and perhaps it was only my fancy, but if the transient lighting of their sunken eyes meant anything, it meant that they who sat there in the garb and equipment of soldiers, who had stood in all the pride and vigour of manhood on bloody battle-fields, now looked to a feeble and lovely woman as their only staff and support in life. i would have told them how deeply i sympathized in the misfortunes of their suffering country, but their sadness seemed too deep and sacred. i knew that i could strike a responsive chord by telling them that i was an american, but i would not open their still bleeding wounds; at parting, however, i told them that i should remember in my own country and to their countrymen the kindness shown me here; and as soon as i mentioned that i was an american, the lady asked me the fate of her unhappy countrymen who had been landed as exiles on our shores, and i felt proud in telling them that they had found among our citizens that sympathy which brave men in misfortune deserve, and that our government had made a provision in land for the exiled compatriots of kosciusko. she inquired particularly about the details of their occupation, and expressed the fear that their habits of life, most of them having been brought up as soldiers, unfitted them for usefulness among us. i did not then know how prophetic were her forebodings, and was saved the necessity of telling her, what i afterward read in a newspaper, that an unhappy portion of that band of exiles, discontented with their mode of life, in attempting to cross the rocky mountains were cut to pieces by a party of indians. under the pressure of their immediate misfortunes they had not heard the fate of the exiles, and a ray of satisfaction played for a moment over their melancholy features in hearing that they had met with friends in america; and they told me to say to the poles wherever i found them, that they need never again turn their eyes toward home. she added that the time had been when she and her friends would have extended the hand of welcome to a stranger in poland; that, when a child, she had heard her father and brothers talk of liberty and the pressure of a foreign yoke, but, living in affluence, surrounded by friends and connexions, she could not sympathize with them, and thought it a feeling existing only in men, which women could not know; but actual occurrences had opened her eyes; her family had been crushed to the earth, her friends imprisoned, killed, or driven into exile, and yet, she added, turning to her husband and father, she ought not to mourn, for those dearest to her on earth were spared. but i could read in her face, as she bent her eyes upon their pallid features, that she felt they were spared only for a season. reluctantly i bade them farewell. a servant waited to go with me and show me the calêche, but i told him it was not worth while. i was in no humour for examining the spokes of carriage-wheels; and, if i had been obliged to ride on the tongue, i believe i should have taken it. i went to my hotel, and told my friend of my interview with the major and his lady. he knew them by reputation, and confirmed and strengthened all the interest i took in them, adding that both father and son had been among the first to take up arms during the revolution, and at its unhappy termination were so beloved by the people of warsaw that, in their wounded and crippled state, the russian government had not proceeded to extremities with them. i spent my last evening in warsaw with my pole and several of his friends at a herbata, that is, a sort of confectioner's shop, like a _café_ in the south of europe, where, as in russia, tea is the popular drink. the next morning, as usual, my passport was not ready. my valet had been for it several times, and could not get it. i had been myself to the police-office, and waited until dark, when i was directed to call the next morning. i went at a little after eight, but i will not obtrude upon the reader the details of my vexation, nor the amiable feelings that passed my mind in waiting till twelve o'clock in a large anteroom. in my after wanderings i sometimes sat down upon a stump or on the sands of the desert, and meditated upon my folly in undergoing all manner of hardships when i might be sitting quietly at home; but when i thought of passports in russia and poland, i shook myself with the freedom of a son of the desert, and with the thought that i could turn my dromedary's head which way i pleased, other difficulties seemed light. ancient philosophers extolled uniformity as a great virtue in a young man's character; and, if so, i was entitled to the highest praise, for in the matter of arranging my passport i was always in a passion. i do not know a single exception to the contrary. and if there was one thing more vexatious than another, it was in the case at warsaw, where, after having been bandied from office to office, i received my passport, still requiring the signature of the governor, and walked up to the palace, nursing my indignation, and expecting an accumulation, i was ushered in by guards and soldiers, and at once disarmed of all animosity by the politeness and civility of the principal officers of government. i was almost sorry to be obliged to withhold my intended malediction. i hurried back to my hotel. my friend, with three or four of his warsaw acquaintances, was waiting to see the last of me; my calêche was at the door, and i was already late for a start. i took my seat and bade them farewell. i promised to write to him on my arrival in paris, and to continue a correspondence on my return home. most unfortunately, i lost his address. he lived in some town in poland, near the frontiers of prussia, and probably at this moment thinks of me unkindly for my apparent neglect. possibly we may meet again, though probably never; but if we do, though it do not happen till our heads are gray, we will have a rich fund of satisfaction in the recollections of our long journey to warsaw. i was again setting out alone. my guide or _conducteur_ was a polish peasant. without having seen him, i had calculated upon making ordinary human intelligence, to some extent, a medium of communication; but i found that i had been too soaring in my ideas of the divinity of human nature. when i returned to the hotel i found him lying on the sidewalk asleep; a servant kicked him up and pointed me out as his master for the journey. he ran up and kissed my hand, and, before i was aware of his intention, stooped down and repeated the same salutation on my boot. an american, perhaps, more than any other, scorns the idea of man's debasing himself to his fellow-man; and so powerful was this feeling in me, that before i went abroad i almost despised a white man whom i saw engaged in a menial office. i had outlived this feeling; but when i saw a tall, strong, athletic white man kneel down and kiss my foot, i could almost have spurned him from me. his whole dress was a long shirt coming down to his feet, supported by a broad leathern belt eight inches wide, which he used as a pocket, and a low, broad-brimmed hat, turned up all round, particularly at the sides, and not unlike the headgear of the lebanon shakers. before putting myself out of the reach of aid, i held a conversation with him through an interpreter. the lady of the major had made out a chart for me, specifying each day's journey, which he promised to observe, and added that he would be my slave if i would give him plenty to drink. with such a companion, then, i may say most emphatically that i was again setting out alone; but my calêche was even better than the polish officer represented it, abundantly provided with pockets for provisions, books, &c., and altogether so much more comfortable than anything i was used to, that i threw myself back in it with a feeling of great satisfaction. i rolled for the last time through the streets of warsaw; looked out upon the busy throng; and though, in the perfectly indifferent air with which they turned to me, i felt how small a space i occupied in the world, i lighted my pipe and smoked in their faces, and, with a perfect feeling of independence toward all the world, at one o'clock i arrived at the barrier. here i found, to my great vexation, that i was an object of special consideration to the emperor of russia. a soldier came out for my passport, with which he went inside the guardhouse, and in a few minutes returned with the paper in his hands to ask me some question. i could not answer him. he talked at me a little while, and again went within doors. after sitting for a few moments, vexed at the detention, but congratulating myself that if there was any irregularity it had been discovered before i had advanced far on my journey, i dismounted and went inside, where, after detaining me long enough to make me feel very uncomfortable, they endorsed the visé and let me go. i again lighted my pipe, and in the mildness and beauty of the day, the comfort of my calêche, and the docility and accommodating spirit of my peasant, forgot my past, and even the chance of future difficulties. there was nothing particularly attractive in the road; the country was generally fertile, though tame and uninteresting. late in the afternoon we stopped at a little town, of which i cannot make out the name. like all the other towns on this side of warsaw, in the centre was a square, with a range of wooden houses built all around fronting on the square, and the inhabitants were principally jews. my peasant took off his horses and fed them in the square, and i went into a little kukernia, much cleaner and better than the town promised, where i had a cup of coffee and a roll of bread, and then strolled around the town, which, at this moment, presented a singular spectacle. the women and children were driving into the square herds of cows from the pasture-grounds in the unenclosed plains around; and, when all were brought in, each proprietor picked out his own cow and drove her home, and in a few moments opposite almost every house stood the family cow, with a woman or child milking her. after this the cows strolled back into the square to sleep till morning. a little before dark we started, and, after a fine moonlight ride, at about ten o'clock drove into a sort of caravanserai, being simply a large shed or covered place for wagons and horses, with a room partitioned off in one corner for eating and sleeping. there were, perhaps, fifteen or twenty wagons under the shed, and their wagoners were all assembled in this room, some standing up and eating off a board stretched along the wall, some drinking, some smoking, and some already asleep on the floor. in one corner was a party of jews, with the contents of a purse emptied before them, which they were dividing into separate parcels. the place was kept by a jew, who, with his wife, or some woman belonging to the establishment, old and weatherbeaten, was running about serving and apparently quarrelling with all the wagoners. she seemed particularly disposed to quarrel with me, i believe because i could not talk to her, this being, in her eyes, an unpardonable sin. i could understand, however, that she wanted to prepare me a supper; but my appetite was not tempted by what i saw around me, and i lighted my pipe and smoked. i believe she afterward saw something in me which made her like me better; for while the wagoners were strewing themselves about the floor for sleep, she went out, and returning with a tolerably clean sheaf of straw under each arm, called me to her, and shaking them out in the middle of the floor, pointed me to my bed. my pipe was ended, and putting my carpet-bag under my head, i lay down upon the straw; and the old woman climbed up to a sort of platform in one corner, where, a moment after, i saw her sitting up with her arms above her head, with the utmost nonchalance changing her innermost garment. i was almost asleep, when i noticed a strapping big man, muffled up to the eyes, standing at my feet and looking in my face. i raised my head, and he walked round, keeping his eyes fixed upon me, and went away. shortly after he returned, and again walking round, stopped and addressed me, "spreechen sie deutsch?" i answered by asking him if he could speak french; and not being able, he went away. he returned again, and again walked round as before, looking steadily in my face. i rose on my elbow, and followed him with my eyes till i had turned completely round with him, when he stopped as if satisfied with his observations, and in his broadest vernacular opened bluntly, "hadn't we better speak english?" i need not say that i entirely agreed with him. i sprang up, and catching his hand, asked him what possessed him to begin upon me in dutch; he replied by asking why i had answered in french, adding that his stout english figure ought to have made me know better; and after mutual good-natured recriminations, we kicked my straw bed about the floor, and agreed to make a night of it. he was the proprietor of a large iron manufactory, distant about three days' journey, and was then on his way to warsaw. he went out to his carriage, and one of his servants produced a stock of provisions like the larder of a well-furnished hotel; and as i had gone to bed supperless, he seemed a good, stout, broad-shouldered guardian angel sent to comfort me. we sat on the back seat of the carriage, making a table of the front; and when we had finished, and the fragments were cleared away, we stretched our legs on the table, lighted our pipes, and talked till we fell asleep on each other's shoulder. notwithstanding our intimacy so far, we should not have known each other by daylight, and at break of day we went outside to examine each other. it was, however, perhaps hardly worth while to retain a recollection of features; for, unless by some such accident as that which brought us together, we never shall meet again. we wrote our names in each other's pocketbook as a memorial of our meeting, and at the same moment started on our opposite roads. chapter xiii. friendly solicitude.--raddom.--symptoms of a difficulty.--a court of inquisition.--showing a proper spirit.--troubles thickening.--approaching the climax.--woman's influence.--the finale.--utility of the classics.--another latinist.--a lucky accident.--arrival at cracow. at about eight o'clock we stopped to feed, and at the feeding-place met a german wagoner, who had lived in hamburgh, and spoke english. he seemed much distressed at my not understanding the language of the country. he was a stout, burly fellow, eating and drinking all the time, and his great anxiety was lest i should starve on the road. he insisted upon my providing against such a fatality, and had a couple of fowls roasted for me, and wrapped in a piece of coarse brown paper; and, at parting, backed by a group of friends, to whom he had told my story, he drank schnaps (at my expense) to my safe arrival at cracow. at eleven o'clock we reached raddom. there was a large swinging gate at the barrier of the town, and the soldier opening it demanded my passport to be _viséd_ by the police; he got into the calêche with me, and we drove into the town, stopped in the public square, and went to the bureau together. he left me in an antechamber, and went within, promising, by his manner, to expedite the business, and intimating an expectation of schnaps on his return. in a few minutes he returned, and barely opening the door for me to enter, hurried off, apparently with some misgivings about his schnaps. i entered, and found three or four men, who took no notice of me. i waited a few moments, and seeing my passport on a table before one of them, went up, and, certainly without intending anything offensive, took up the passport with a view of calling his attention to it; he jerked it out of my hand, and looking at me with an imperious and impertinent air, at the same time saying something i have no doubt in character with the expression of his face, he slapped it down on the table. two or three officers coming in, looked at it, and laid it down again, until at length one man, the head of that department, i suppose, took it up, wrote a note, and giving the note and the passport to a soldier, directed me to follow him. the soldier conducted me to the bureau of the government, the largest building, and occupying a central position in the town, and left me in an antechamber with the usual retinue of soldiers and officers. in about a quarter of an hour he came out without the passport, and pulled me by the sleeve to follow him. i shook my head, asked for the passport, and, in fact, moved toward the door he had left. he seemed a good-hearted fellow, and, anxious to save me from any imprudence, pulled me back, held up his fingers, and pointing to the clock, told me to return at one; and touching his hat respectfully, with probably the only french words he knew, "adieu, seigneur," and a look of real interest, hurried away. i strolled about the town, dropped in at a kukiernia, went to the square, and saw my peasant friend feeding his horses, apparently in some trouble and perplexity. i went back at one, and was ordered to come again at four. i would have remonstrated, but, besides that i could not make myself understood, when i attempted to speak they turned rudely away from me. i was vexed by the loss of the day, as i had agreed to pay a high price for the sake of going through a day sooner, and this might spoil my plan; and i was particularly vexed by the rough manner in which i was treated. i returned at four, and was conducted into a large chamber, in which were perhaps twenty or thirty clerks and inferior officers in the uniform of the government. as soon as i entered there was a general commotion. they had sent for a young man who spoke a little french to act as interpreter. the passport was put into his hands, and the first question he asked me was how i, an american, happened to be travelling under a russian passport. i answered that it was not from any wish of mine, but in obedience to their own laws, and added the fact that this passport had been made out by the russian ambassador at constantinople; that under it i had been admitted into russia, and travelled from the black sea to st. petersburgh, and from there down to warsaw, as he might see from the paper itself, the _visés_ of the proper authorities, down to that of the governor of warsaw, being regularly endorsed. he then asked what my business was in poland, and what had induced me to come there. i answered, the same that had carried me into russia, merely the curiosity of a traveller; and he then inquired what in particular i wanted to see in poland. if i had consulted merely my feelings, i should have told him that, besides being attracted by the interest of her heroic history, i wished to see with my own eyes the pressure of a colossal foot upon the necks of a conquered people; that this very system of inquisition and _espionage_ was one of the things i expected to see; but i, of course, forbore this, and answered only in general terms, and my answer was not satisfactory. he then began a more particular examination; asked my age, my height, the colour of my eyes, &c. at first i did not see the absurdity of this examination, and answered honestly according to the fact, as i believed it; but, all at once, it struck me that, as i did not remember the particulars of the description of my person in the passport, my own impromptu might very easily differ from it, and, catching an insulting expression on his face, i told him that he had the passport in his hands, and might himself compare my person with the description there given of me. he then read aloud the entire description; height, so many feet; eyes, such a colour, &c., &c.; scanned me from head to foot; peered into my eyes, stopping after each article to look at me and compare me with the description. by this time every man in the room had left his business and gathered round looking at me, and, after the reading of each article and the subsequent examination, there was a general shaking of heads and a contemptuous smile. at the time i remembered, what had before suggested itself to me rather as a good thing, that, before embarking for europe, i had written on to the department of state for a passport, with a description of my person made out at the moment by a friend, not very flattering, and, perhaps, not very true, but good enough for the continent, which i expected to be the extent of my tour; and i felt conscious that, on a severe examination, my nose might be longer, or my eyes grayer, or in some other point different from the description. this, added to their close and critical examination, at first embarrassed me considerably, but the supercilious and insulting manner in which the examination was conducted roused my indignation and restored my self-possession. i saw, from the informal way in which the thing was done, that this was a mere preliminary inquisition, and not the court to sit in judgment; and i had noticed from the beginning that most of these men were poles, who had sold themselves to russia for petty place and pay in her offices, traitors in their hearts and lives, apostates from every honourable feeling, and breathing a more infernal spirit against their enslaved country than the russians themselves; and i told the interpreter, as coolly as the nature of the case would admit, to accept for himself, and to convey to his associates, the assurance that i should remember their little town as long as i lived; that i had then travelled from england through france, italy, greece, turkey, and russia, and had nowhere met such wanton rudeness and insult as from them; that i did not think it possible that in any european government twenty of its officers would laugh and sneer at the embarrassment of a stranger without a single one stepping forward to assist him; that i deeply regretted the occurrence of such a circumstance in poland; that i felt convinced that there was not a truehearted pole among them, or my character as an american would have saved me from insult. the interpreter seemed a little abashed, but i could see in the vindictive faces of the rest that they were greatly irritated. the examination was cut short, and i was directed to come again at half past five, when the commandant, who had been sent for, would be there. by this time there was some excitement in the streets, and, as i afterward learned, it was noised through the little town that an american was detained on suspicion of travelling under a false passport. my calêche had been standing in the public square all day. i had been noticed going to and from the offices with a soldier at my heels, and my poor pole had been wandering up and down the streets, telling everybody his fears and interest in me, and particularly his anxiety about ten rubles i had promised him. as i passed along, people turned round and looked at me. i went to a kukiernia, where the dame had been very smiling and attentive, and could not get even a look from her. i went to another; several men were earnestly talking, who became silent the moment i entered. a small matter created an excitement in that little place. it was a rare thing for a traveller to pass through it; the russian government threw every impediment in the way, and had made the road so vexatious that it was almost broken up. the french or the citizens of a free country like america were always suspected of being political emissaries to stir up the poles to revolution, and it seemed as if, under that despotic government, to be suspected was to be guilty. the poles were in the habit of seeing slight offences visited with terrible punishments, and probably half the little town looked on me as a doomed man. i went back to the square and took a seat on my calêche; my poor pole sat on the box looking at me; he had followed me all over, and, like the rest, seemed to regard me as lost. i had probably treated him with more kindness than he was accustomed to receive, though, for every new kindness, he vexed me anew by stooping down and kissing my foot. at half past five o'clock i was again at the door of the palace. on the staircase i met the young man who had acted as interpreter; he would have avoided me, but i stopped him and asked him to return with me. i held on to him, asking him if the commandant spoke french; begged him, as he would hope himself to find kindness in a strange country, to go back and act as a medium of explanation; but he tore rudely away, and hurried down stairs. a soldier opened the door and led me into the same apartment as before. the clerks were all at their desks writing; all looked up as i entered, but not one offered me a seat, nor any the slightest act of civility. i waited a moment, and they seemed studiously to take no notice of me. i felt outrageous at their rudeness. i had no apprehensions of any serious consequences beyond, perhaps, that of a detention until i could write to mr. wilkins, our ambassador at st. petersburgh, and resolved not to be trampled upon by the understrappers. i walked up to the door of the commandant's chamber, when one man, who had been particularly insulting during the reading of the passport, rudely intercepted me, and leaning his back against the door, flourished his hands before him to keep me from entering. fortunately, i fell back in time to prevent even the tip end of his fingers touching me. my blood flashed through me like lightning, and even now i consider myself a miracle of forbearance that i did not strike him. in a few moments the door opened, and a soldier beckoned me to enter. directly in front, at the other end of the room, behind a table, sat the commandant, a grim, gaunt-looking figure about fifty, his military coat buttoned tight up in his throat, his cap and sword on the table by his side, and in his hands my unlucky passport. as i walked toward him he looked from the passport to me, and from me to the passport; and when i stopped at the table he read over again the whole description, at every clause looking at me; shook his head with a grim smile of incredulity, and laid it down, as if perfectly satisfied. i felt that my face was flushed with indignation, and, perhaps, to a certain extent, so distorted with passion that it would have been difficult to recognise me as the person described. i suggested to him that the rude treatment i had met with in the other room had no doubt altered the whole character of my face, but he waved his hand for me to be silent; and, taking up a sheet of paper, wrote a letter or order, or something which i did not understand, and gave it to a soldier, who took it off to one corner and stamped it. the commandant then folded up the passport, enclosed it in the letter, and handed it again to the soldier, who carried it off and affixed to it an enormous wax seal, which looked very ominous and siberian-like. i was determined not to suffer from the want of any effort on my part, and pulled out my old american passport, under which i had travelled in france and italy, and also a new one which commodore porter had given me in constantinople. he looked at them without any comment and without understanding them; and, when the soldier returned with the paper and the big seal, he rose, and, without moving a muscle, waved with his hand for me to follow the soldier. i would have resisted if i had dared. i was indignant enough to do some rash thing, but at every step was a soldier; i saw the folly of it, and, grinding my teeth with vexation and rage, i did as i was ordered. at the door of the palace we found a large crowd, who, knowing my appointment for this hour, were waiting to hear the result. a line of people was formed along the walk, who, seeing me under the charge of a soldier, turned round and looked at me with ominous silence. we passed under the walls of the prison, and the prisoners thrust their arms through the bars and hailed me, and seemed to claim me as a companion, and to promise me a welcome among them. for a moment i was infected with some apprehensions. in my utter ignorance as to what it all meant, i ran over in my mind the stories i had heard of the exercise of despotic authority, and for one moment thought of my german host at moscow and a journey to siberia by mistake. i did not know where the soldier was taking me, but felt relieved when we had got out of the reach of the voices of the prisoners, and more so when we stopped before a large house, which i remarked at once as a private dwelling, though a guard of honour before the door indicated it as the residence of an officer of high rank. we entered, and were ushered into the presence of the governor and commander-in-chief. he was, of course, a russian, a man about sixty, in the uniform of a general officer, and attended by an aiddecamp about thirty. i waited till the soldier had delivered his message; and, before the governor had broken the seal, i carried the war into the enemy's country by complaining of the rude treatment i had received, interrupted in my journey under a passport which had carried me all over russia, and laughed at and insulted by the officers of the government, at the same time congratulating myself that i had at last met those who could at least tell me why i was detained, and would give me an opportunity of explaining anything apparently wrong. i found the governor, as everywhere else in russia where i could get access to the principal man, a gentleman in his bearing and feelings. he requested me to be seated, while he retired into another apartment to examine the passport. the aiddecamp remained, and i entertained him with my chapter of grievances; he put the whole burden of the incivility upon the poles, who, as he said, filled all the inferior offices of government, but told me, too, that the country was in such an unsettled state that it was necessary to be very particular in examining all strangers; and particularly as at that time several french emissaries were suspected to be secretly wandering in poland, trying to stir up revolution. the governor stayed so long that i began to fear there was some technical irregularity which might subject me to detention, and i was in no small degree relieved when he sent for me, and telling me that he regretted the necessity for giving such annoyance and vexation to travellers, handed me back the passport, with a direction to the proper officer to make the necessary _visé_ and let me go. i was so pleased with the result that i did not stop to ask any questions, and to this day i do not know particularly why i was detained. by this time it was nine o'clock, and when we returned the bureau was closed. the soldier stated the case to the loungers about the door, and now all, including some of the scoundrels who had been so rude to me in the morning, were anxious to serve me. one of them conducted me to an apartment near, where i was ushered into the presence of an elderly lady and her two daughters, both of whom spoke french. i apologized for my intrusion; told them my extreme anxiety to go on that night, and begged them to procure some one to take the governor's order to the commandant; in fact, i had become nervous, and did not consider myself safe till out of the place. they called in a younger brother, who started with alacrity on the errand, and i sat down to wait his return. there must be a witchery about polish ladies. i was almost savage against all mankind; i had been kept up to the extremest point of indignation without any opportunity of exploding all day, and it would have been a great favour for some one to knock me down; but in a few minutes all my bitterness and malevolence melted away, and before tea was over i forgot that i had been bandied all day from pillar to post, and even forgave the boors who had mocked me, in consideration of their being the countrymen of the ladies who were showing me such kindness. even with them i began with the chafed spirit that had been goading me on all day; but when i listened to the calm and sad manner in which they replied; that it was annoying, but it was light, very light, compared with the scenes through which they and all their friends had passed, i was ashamed of my petulance. a few words convinced me that they were the poles of my imagination and heart. a widowed mother and orphan children, their staff and protector had died in battle, and a gallant brother was then wandering an exile in france. i believe it is my recollection of polish ladies that gives me a leaning toward rebels. i never met a polish lady who was not a rebel, and i could but think, as long as the startling notes of revolution continue to fall like music from their pretty lips, so long the russian will sleep on an unquiet pillow in poland. it was more than an hour before the brother returned, and i was sorry when he came; for, after my professions of haste, i had no excuse for remaining longer. i was the first american they had ever seen; and if they do not remember me for anything else, i am happy to have disabused them of one prejudice against my country, for they believed the americans were all black. at parting, and at my request, the eldest daughter wrote her name in my memorandum-book, and i bade them farewell. it was eleven o'clock when i left the house, and at the first transition from their presence the night seemed of pitchy darkness. i groped my way into the square, and found my calêche gone. i stood for a moment on the spot where i had left it, ruminating what i should do. perhaps my poor pole had given me up as lost, and taken out letters of administration upon my carpet-bag. directly before me, intersecting the range of houses on the opposite side of the square, was a street leading out of the town. i knew that he was a man to go straight ahead, turning neither to the right hand nor the left. i walked on to the opening, followed it a little way, and saw on the right a gate opening to a shed for stabling. i went in, and found him with his horses unharnessed, feeding them, whipping them, and talking at them in furious polish. as soon as he saw me he left them and came at me in the same tone, throwing up both his hands, and almost flourishing them in my face; then went back to his horses, began pitching on the harness, and, snatching up the meal-bag, came back again toward me, all the time talking and gesticulating like a bedlamite. i was almost in despair. what have i done now? even my poor peasant turns against me; this morning he kissed my foot, now he is ready to brain me with a meal-bag. roused by the uproar, the old woman, proprietor of the shed, came out, accompanied by her daughter, a pretty little girl about twelve years old, carrying a lantern. i looked at them without expecting any help. my peasant moved between them and me and the horses, flourishing his meal-bag, and seeming every moment to become more and more enraged with me. i looked on in dismay, when the little girl came up, and dropping a courtesy before me, in the prettiest french i ever heard, asked me, "que voulez vous, monsieur?" i could have taken her up in my arms and kissed her. i have had a fair share of the perplexity which befalls every man from the sex, but i hold many old accounts cancelled by the relief twice afforded me this day. before coming to a parley with my pole, i took her by the hand, and, sitting down on the tongue of a wagon, learned from her that she had been taken into the house of a rich seigneur to be educated as a companion for his daughter, and was then at home on a visit to her mother; after which she explained the meaning of my postillion's outcry. besides his apprehensions for me personally, he had been tormented with the no less powerful one of losing the promised ten rubles upon his arrival at a fixed time at michoof, and all his earnestness was to hurry me off at once, in order to give him a chance of still arriving within the time. this was exactly the humour in which i wanted to find him, for i had expected great difficulty in making him go on that night; so i told him to hitch on his horses, and at parting did give the little girl a kiss, and the only other thing i could give her without impoverishing myself was a silk purse as a memento. i lighted my pipe, and, worn out with the perplexities of the day, in a short time forgot police and passports, rude russians and dastardly poles, and even the polish ladies and the little girl. i woke the next morning under a shed, horses harnessed, postillion on the box whipping, and a jew at their head holding them, and the two bipeds quarrelling furiously about the stabling. i threw the jew a florin, and he let go his hold, though my peasant shook his whip, and roared back at him long after we were out of sight and hearing. at a few miles' distance we came to a stopping-place, where we found a large calêche with four handsome horses, and the postillion in the costume of a peasant of cracow, a little square red cap with a red feather, a long white frock somewhat like a shooting-jacket, bordered with red, a belt covered with pieces of brass like scales lapping over each other, and a horn slung over his right shoulder. it belonged to a polish seigneur, who, though disaffected toward government, had succeeded in retaining his property, and was the proprietor of many villages. he was accompanied by a young man about thirty, who spoke a very little french; less than any man whom i ever heard attempt to speak it at all. they had with them their own servants and cooking apparatus, and abundance of provisions. the seigneur superintended the cooking, and i did them the honour to breakfast with them. while we were breakfasting a troop of wagoners or vagabonds were under the shed dancing the mazurka. the better class of poles are noble, high-spirited men, warm and social in their feelings, and to them, living on their estates in the interior of their almost untrodden country, a stranger is a curiosity and a treasure. the old seigneur was exceedingly kind and hospitable, and the young man and i soon became on excellent terms. i was anxious to have a friend in case of a new passport difficulty, and at starting gladly embraced his offer to ride with me. as soon as we took our seats in the calêche we lighted our pipes and shook hands as a bargain of good fellowship. our perfect flow of confidence, however, was much broken by the up-hill work of making ourselves understood. i was no great scholar myself, but his french was execrable; he had studied it when a boy, but for more than ten years had not spoken a word. at one time, finding it impossible to express himself, he said, "parlatis latinum?" "can you speak latin?" i at first thought it was some dialect of the country, and could not believe that he meant the veritable stuff that had been whipped into me at school, and which, to me, was most emphatically a dead language; but necessity develops all that a man has, and for three hours we kept up an uninterrupted stream of talk in bad latin and worse french. like every pole whom i met, except the employés in the public offices, from the bottom of his heart he detested a russian. he had been a soldier during the revolution, and lay on his back crippled with wounds when it was crushed by the capture of warsaw. i showed him the coin which had accidentally come into my hands, and when we came to the point where our roads separated, he said that he was ashamed to do so, but could not help begging from me that coin; to me it was merely a curiosity, to him it was a trophy of the brilliant but shortlived independence of his country. i was loath to part with it, and would rather have given him every button on my coat; but i appreciated his patriotic feeling, and could not refuse. i got out, and he threw his arms around me, kissed me on both cheeks, called me his friend and brother, and mounted the kibitka with the old seigneur. the latter invited me to go with him to his château, about a day's journey distant, and if i had expected to write a book i should certainly have done so. i went on again alone. at about twelve o'clock we arrived at the town of kielse. i felt nervous as we approached the barrier. i threw myself back in the calêche, and drew my cap over my eyes in grand seigneur style, the soldier touched his hat as he opened the gate, and we drove into the public square unmolested. i breathed more freely, but almost hesitated to leave the calêche while the horses fed. i smiled, however, at thinking that any effort to avoid observation was the very way to attract it, and went to a kukernia, where i drank coffee, ate bread encrusted with sugar, and smoked a pipe until my pole came in and kissed my foot as an intimation that the horses were ready. no questions were asked at the barrier; and we rode on quietly till nine o'clock, when we drove under the shed of a caravanserai. fifteen or twenty wagoners were eating off a bench, and, as they finished, stretched themselves on the floor for sleep. it was a beautiful moonlight night, and i strolled out for a walk. the whole country was an immense plain. i could see for a great distance, and the old shed was the only roof in sight. it was the last night of a long journey through wild and unsettled countries. i went back to the time when, on a night like that, i had embarked on the adriatic for greece; thought of the many scenes i had passed through since, and bidding farewell to the plains of poland, returned to my calêche, drew my cloak around me, and was soon asleep. at nine o'clock we stopped at a feeding-place, where a horde of dirty jews were at a long table eating. i brushed off one corner, and sat down to some bread and milk. opposite me was a beggar woman dividing with a child about ten years old a small piece of dry black bread. i gave them some bread and a jar of milk, and i thought, from the lighting up of the boy's face, that it was long since he had had such a meal. at twelve o'clock we reached michoof, the end of my journey with the calêche. i considered my difficulties all ended, and showed at the posthouse my letter from the polish captain to the commissario. to my great annoyance, he was not in the place. i had to procure a conveyance to cracow; and having parted with my poor pole overwhelmed with gratitude for my treatment on the road and my trifling gratuity at parting, i stood at the door of the posthouse with my carpet-bag in my hand, utterly at a loss what to do. a crowd of people gathered round, all willing to assist me, but i could not tell them what i wanted. one young man in particular seemed bent upon serving me; he accosted me in russian, polish, and german. i answered him in english, french, and italian, and then both stopped. as a desperate resource, and almost trembling at my own temerity, i asked him the question i had learned from my yesterday's companion "parlates latinum?" and he answered me with a fluency and volubility that again threw me into another perplexity, caught my hand, congratulated me upon having found a language both understood, praised the good old classic tongues, offered his services to procure anything i wanted, &c., and all with such rapidity of utterance that i was obliged to cry out with something like the sailor's "vast heaving," and tell him that, if he went on at that rate, it was all russian to me. he stopped, and went on more moderately, and with great help from him i gave him to understand that i wanted to hire a wagon to take me to cracow. "venite cum me," said my friend, and conducted me round the town until we found one. i then told him i wanted my passport _viséd_ for passing the frontier. "venite cum me," again said my friend, and took me with him and procured the _visé_; then that i wanted a dinner; still he answered "venite cum me," and took me to a trattoria, and dined with me. at dinner my classical friend did a rather unclassical thing. an enormous cucumber was swimming in a tureen of vinegar. he asked me whether i did not want it; and, taking it up in his fingers, ate it as a dessert, and drinking the vinegar out of the tureen, smacked his lips, wiped his mustaches with the tablecloth, and pronounced it "optimum." for three hours we talked constantly, and talked nothing but latin. it was easy enough for him, for, as he told me, at school it had been the language of conversation. to me it was like breaking myself into the treadmill; but, once fairly started, my early preceptors would have been proud of my talk. at parting he kissed me on both cheeks, rubbed me affectionately with his mustaches and, after i had taken my seat, his last words were, "semper me servate in vestra memoria." we had four and a half german, or about eighteen english, miles to cracow. we had a pair of miserable, ragged little horses, but i promised my postillion two florins extra if he took me there in three hours, and he started off so furiously that in less than an hour the horses broke down, and we had to get out and walk. after breathing them a little they began to recover, and we arrived on a gentle trot at the frontier town, about half way to cracow. my passport was all right, but here i had a new difficulty in that i had no passport for my postillion. i had not thought of this, and my classical friend had not suggested it. it was exceedingly provoking, as to return would prevent my reaching cracow that night. after a parley with the commanding officer, a gentlemanly man, who spoke french very well, he finally said that my postillion might go on under charge of a soldier to the next posthouse, about a mile beyond, where i could get another conveyance and send him back. just as i had thanked him for his courtesy, a young gentleman from cracow, in a barouche with four horses, drove up, and, hearing my difficulty, politely offered to take me in with him. i gladly accepted his offer, and arrived at cracow at about dark, where, upon his recommendation, i went to the hotel de la rose blanche, and cannot well describe the satisfaction with which i once more found myself on the borders of civilized europe, within reach of the ordinary public conveyances, and among people whose language i could understand. "shall i not take mine ease in mine own inn?" often, after a hard day's journey, i have asked myself this question, but seldom with the same self-complacency and the same determination to have mine ease as at cracow. i inquired about the means of getting to vienna, which, at that moment, i thought no more of than a journey to boston. though there was no particular need of it, i had a fire built in my room for the associations connected with a cheerful blaze. i put on my morning-gown and slippers, and hauling up before the fire an old chintz-covered sofa, sent for my landlord to come up and talk with me. my host was an italian, and an excellent fellow. attached to his hotel was a large restaurant, frequented by the first people at cracow. during the evening an old countess came there to sup; he mentioned to her the arrival of an american, and i supped with her and her niece; neither of them, however, so interesting as to have any effect upon my slumber. chapter xiv. cracow.--casimir the great.--kosciusko.--tombs of the polish kings.--a polish heroine.--last words of a king.--a hero in decay.--the salt-mines of cracow.--the descent.--the mines.--underground meditations.--the farewell. cracow is an old, curious, and interesting city, situated in a valley on the banks of the vistula; and approaching it as i did, toward the sunset of a summer's day, the old churches and towers, the lofty castles and the large houses spread out on the immense plains, gave it an appearance of actual splendour. this faded away as i entered, but still the city inspired a feeling of respect, for it bore the impress of better days. it contains numerous churches, some of them very large, and remarkable for their style and architecture, and more than a hundred monasteries and convents. in the centre is a large square, on which stands the church of notre dame, an immense gothic structure, and also the old palace of sobieski, now cut down into shops, and many large private residences, uninhabited and falling to ruins. the principal streets terminate in this square. almost every building bears striking marks of ruined grandeur. on the last partition of poland in eighteen hundred and fifteen by the holy alliance, cracow, with a territory of five hundred square miles and a population of a hundred and eight thousand, including about thirty thousand jews, was erected into a republic; and at this day it exists nominally as a _free city_, under the protection of the three great powers; emphatically, such protection as vultures give to lambs; three masters instead of one, russia, prussia, and austria, all claiming the right to interfere in its government. but even in its fallen state cracow is dear to the pole's heart, for it was the capital of his country when poland ranked high among nations, and down to him who last sat upon her throne, was the place of coronation and of burial for her kings. it is the residence of many of the old polish nobility, who, with reduced fortunes, prefer this little foothold in their country, where liberty nominally lingers, to exile in foreign lands. it now contains a population of about thirty thousand, including jews. occasionally the seigneur is still seen, in his short cassock of blue cloth, with a red sash and a white square-topped cap; a costume admirably adapted to the tall and noble figure of the proud pole, and the costume of the peasant of cracow is still a striking feature in her streets. after a stroll through the churches, i walked on the old ramparts of cracow. the city was formerly surrounded with regular fortifications, but, as in almost all the cities of europe, her ancient walls have been transformed into boulevards; and now handsome avenues of trees encircle it, destroying altogether its gothic military aspect, and on sundays and fête days the whole population gathers in gay dresses, seeking pleasure where their fathers stood clad in armour and arrayed for battle. the boulevards command an extensive view of all the surrounding country. "all the sites of my country," says a national poet, "are dear to me; but, above all, i love the environs of cracow; there at every step i meet the recollections of our ancient glory and our once imposing grandeur." on the opposite bank of the river is a large tumulus of earth, marking the grave of cracus, the founder of the city. a little higher up is another mound, reverenced as the sepulchre of his daughter wenda, who was so enamoured of war that she promised to give her hand only to the lover who should conquer her in battle. beyond this is the field of zechino, where the brave kosciusko, after his return from america, with a band of peasants, again struck the first blow of revolution, and, by a victory over the russians, roused all poland to arms. about a mile from cracow are the ruins of the palace of lobzow, built by casimir the great, for a long time the favourite royal residence, and identified with a crowd of national recollections; and, until lately, a large mound of earth in the garden was reverenced as the grave of esther, the beautiful jewess, the idol of casimir the great. poetry has embellished the tradition, and the national muse has hallowed the palace of lobzow and the grave of esther. "passer-by, if you are a stranger, tremble in thinking of human destruction; but if you are a pole, shed bitter tears; heroes have inhabited this palace.... who can equal them?... * * * * * "casimir erected this palace: centuries have hailed him with the name of the great.... * * * * * "near his esther, in the delightful groves of lobzow, he thought himself happy in ceasing to be a king to become a lover. * * * * * "but fate is unpitiable for kings as for us, and even beauty is subject to the common law. esther died, and casimir erected a tomb in the place she had loved. "oh! if you are sensible to the grief caused by love, drop a tear at this tomb and adorn it with a crown. if casimir was tied to humanity by some weaknesses, they are the appendage of heroes! in presence of this chateau, in finding again noble remains, sing the glory of casimir the great." i was not a sentimental traveller, nor sensible to the grief that is caused by love, and i could neither drop a tear at the tomb of esther nor sing the glory of casimir the great; but my heart beat high as i turned to another monument in the environs of cracow; an immense mound of earth, standing on an eminence visible from every quarter, towering almost into a mountain, and sacred to the memory of kosciusko! i saw it from the palace of the kings and from the ramparts of the fallen city, and, with my eyes constantly fixed upon it, descended to the vistula, followed its bank to a large convent, and then turned to the right, direct for the mound. i walked to the foot of the hill, and ascended to a broad table of land. from this table the mound rises in a conical form, from a base three hundred feet in diameter, to the height of one hundred and seventy-five feet. at the four corners formerly stood small houses, which were occupied by revolutionary soldiers who had served under kosciusko. on the farther side, enclosed by a railing, was a small chapel, and within it a marble tomb covering kosciusko's heart! a circular path winds round the mound; i ascended by this path to the top. it is built of earth sodded, and was then covered with a thick carpet of grass, and reminded me of the tumuli of the grecian heroes on the plains of troy; and perhaps, when thousands of years shall have rolled by, and all connected with our age be forgotten, and time and exposure to the elements shall have changed its form, another stranger will stand where i did, and wonder why and for what it was raised. it was erected in 1819 by the voluntary labour of the polish people; and so great was the enthusiasm, that, as an eyewitness told me, wounded soldiers brought earth in their helmets, and women in their slippers; and i remembered, with a swelling heart, that on this consecrated spot a nation of brave men had turned to my country as the star of liberty, and that here a banner had been unfurled and hailed with acclamations by assembled thousands, bearing aloft the sacred inscription, "kosciusko, the friend of washington!" the morning was cold and dreary, the sky was overcast with clouds, and the sun, occasionally breaking through lighted up for a moment with dazzling brilliancy the domes and steeples of cracow, and the palace and burial-place of her kings, emblematic of the fitful gleams of her liberty flashing and dazzling, and then dying away. i drew my cloak around me, and remained there till i was almost drenched with rain. the wind blew violently, and i descended and sheltered myself at the foot of the mound, by the grave of kosciusko's heart! i returned to the city and entered the cathedral church. it stands by the side of the old palace, on the summit of the rock of wauvel, in the centre of and commanding the city, enclosed with walls and towers, and allied in its history with the most memorable annals of poland; the witness of the ancient glory of her kings, and their sepulchre. the rain was pattering against the windows of the old church as i strolled through the silent cloisters and among the tombs of the kings. a verger in a large cocked hat, and a group of peasants, moved, like myself, with noiseless steps, as if afraid to disturb the repose of the royal dead. many of the kings of poland fill but a corner of the page of history. some of their names i had forgotten, or, perhaps, never knew until i saw them inscribed on their tombs; but every monument covered a head that had worn a crown, and some whose bones were mouldering under my feet will live till the last records of heroism perish. the oldest monument is that of wladislaus le bref, built of stone, without any inscription, but adorned with figures in bas-relief, which are very much injured. he died in thirteen hundred and thirty-three, and chose himself the place of his eternal rest. charles the twelfth of sweden, on his invasion of poland, visited the cathedral church, and stopped before this tomb. a distinguished canon who attended him, in allusion to the position of john casimir, who was then at war with the king of sweden, remarked, "and that king was also driven from his throne, but he returned and reigned until his death." the swede answered with bitterness, "but your john casimir will never return." the canon replied respectfully, "god is great and fortune is fickle;" and the canon was right, for john casimir regained his throne. i approached with a feeling of veneration the tomb of casimir the great. it is of red marble; four columns support a canopy, and the figure of the king, with a crown on his head, rests on a coffin of stone. an iron railing encloses the monument. it is nearly five hundred years since the palatins and nobles of poland, with all the insignia of barbaric magnificence, laid him in the place where his ashes now repose. the historian writes, "poland is indebted to casimir for the greatest part of her churches, palaces, fortresses, and towns," adding that "he found poland of wood and left her of marble." he patronized letters, and founded the university of cracow; promoted industry and encouraged trade; digested the unwritten laws and usages into a regular code; established courts of justice; repressed the tyranny of the nobles, and died with the honourable title of king of the peasants; and i did not forget, while standing over his grave, that beneath me slept the spirit that loved the groves of lobzow and the heart that beat for esther the jewess. the tomb of sigismund i. is of red marble, with a figure as large as life reclining upon it. it is adorned with bas-reliefs and the arms of the republic, the white eagle and the armed cavalier of lithuania. he died in fifteen hundred and forty-one, and his monument bears the following inscription in latin: "sigismund jagellon, king of poland, grand-duke of lithuania, conqueror of the tartars, of the wallachians, of the russians and prussians, reposes under this stone, which he prepared for himself." forty years ago thaddeus czacki, the polish historian, opened the tombs of the kings, and found the head of sigismund resting upon a plate of silver bearing a long latin inscription; the body measured six feet and two inches in height, and was covered with three rich ermines; on the feet were golden spurs, a chain of gold around the neck, and a gold ring on one finger of the left hand. at his feet was a small pewter coffin enclosing the body of his son by bone sforza. by his side lies the body of his son sigismund ii., the last of the jagellons, at whose death began the cabals and convulsions of an elective monarchy, by which poland lost her influence among foreign powers. his memory is rendered interesting by his romantic love for barbe radzewill. she appeared at his father's court, the daughter of a private citizen, celebrated in polish history and romance as uniting to all a woman's beauty a mingled force and tenderness, energy and goodness. the prince had outlived all the ardour of youth; disappointed and listless amid pleasures, his energy of mind destroyed by his excesses, inconstant in his love, and at the summit of human prosperity, living without a wish or a hope; but he saw barbe, and his heart beat anew with the pulsations of life. in the language of his biographer he proved, in all its fulness, that sentiment which draws to earth by its sorrows and raises to heaven by its delights. he married her privately, and on his father's death proclaimed her queen. the whole body of nobles refused to acknowledge the marriage, and one of the nuncios, in the name of the representatives of the nation, supplicated him for himself, his country, his blood, and his children, to extinguish his passion; but the king swore on his sword that neither the diet, nor the nation, nor the whole universe should make him break his vows to barbe; that he would a thousand times rather live with her out of the kingdom than keep a throne which she could not share; and was on the point of abdicating, when his opponents offered to do homage to the queen. when czacki opened the coffin of this prince, he found the body perfectly preserved, and the head, as before, resting on a silver plate containing a long latin inscription. at the foot of his coffin is that of his sister and successor, anne; and in a separate chapel is the tomb of stephen battory, one of the greatest of the kings of poland, raised to the throne by his marriage with anne. i became more and more interested in this asylum of royal dead. i read there almost the entire history of the polish republic, and again i felt that it was but a step from the throne to the grave, for near me was the great chair in which the kings of poland were crowned. i paused before the tomb of john casimir; and there was something strangely interesting in the juxtaposition of these royal dead. john casimir lies by the side of the brother whom he endeavoured to supplant in his election to the throne. his reign was a continued succession of troubles and misfortunes. once he was obliged to fly from poland. he predicted what has since been so fearfully verified, that his country, enfeebled by the anarchy of its government and the licentiousness of the nobles, would be dismembered among the neighbouring powers; and, worn out with the cares of royalty, abdicated the throne, and died in a convent in france. i read at his tomb his pathetic farewell to his people. "people of poland, "it is now two hundred and eighty years that you have been governed by my family. the reign of my ancestors is past, and mine is going to expire. fatigued by the labours of war, the cares of the cabinet, and the weight of age; oppressed with the burdens and vicissitudes of a reign of more than twenty-one years, i, your king and father, return into your hands what the world esteems above all things, a crown, and choose for my throne six feet of earth, where i shall sleep with my fathers. when you show my tomb to your children, tell them that i was the foremost in battle and the last in retreat; that i renounced regal grandeur for the good of my country, and restored my sceptre to those who gave it me." by his side, and under a monument of black marble, lies the body of his successor, michel wisniowecki, an obscure and unambitious citizen, who was literally dragged to the throne, and wept when the crown was placed upon his head, and of whom casimir remarked, when informed of his late subjects' choice, "what, have they put the crown on the head of that poor fellow?" and again i was almost startled by the strange and unnatural mingling of human ashes. by the side of that "poor fellow" lies the "famous" john sobieski, the greatest of the long line of kings of a noble and valorous nation; "one of the few, the immortal names, that were not born to die." on the lower floor of the church, by the side of poniatowski, the polish bayard, is the tomb of one nobler in my eyes than all the kings of poland or of the world. it is of red marble, ornamented with the cap and plume of the peasant of cracow, and bears the simple inscription "t. kosciusko." all over the church i had read elaborate panegyrics upon the tenants of the royal sepulchres, and i was struck with this simple inscription, and remembered that the white marble column reared amid the magnificent scenery of the hudson, which i had often gazed at from the deck of a steamboat, and at whose base i had often stood, bore also in majestic simplicity the name of "kosciusko." it was late in the afternoon, and the group of peasants, two poles from the interior, and a party of the citizens of cracow, among whom were several ladies, joined me at the tomb. we could not speak each other's language; we were born and lived thousands of miles apart, and we were strangers in our thoughts and feelings, in all our hopes and prospects, but we had a bond of sympathy at the grave of kosciusko. one of the ladies spoke french, and i told them that, in my far distant country, the name of their nation's idol was hallowed; that schoolboys had erected a monument to his memory. they knew that he had fought by the side of washington, but they did not know that the recollection of his services was still so dearly cherished in america; and we all agreed that it was the proudest tribute that could be paid to his memory, to write merely his name on his monument. it meant that it was needless to add an epitaph, for no man would ask, who was kosciusko? it was nearly dark when i returned to my hotel. in the restaurant, at a small table directly opposite me, sat the celebrated chlopicki, to whom, on the breaking out of the last revolution, poland turned as to another kosciusko, and who, until he faltered during the trying scenes of that revolution, would have been deemed worthy to lie by kosciusko's side. born of a noble family, a soldier from his birth, he served in the memorable campaigns of the great patriot, distinguished himself in the polish legions in italy under dombrowski, and, as colonel of a regiment of the army of the vistula, behaved gloriously in prussia. in spain he fought at saragossa and sagunta, and was called by suchet _le brave des braves_; as general of brigade in the army of russia, he was wounded at valentina, near smolensk, and was general of a division in eighteen hundred and fourteen, when poland fell under the dominion of the autocrat. the grand-duke constantine censured him on parade, saying that his division was not in order; and chlopicki, with the proud boast, "i did not gain my rank on the parade-ground, nor did i win my decorations there," asked his discharge the next day, and could never after be induced to return to the service. the day after the revolutionary blow was struck, all poland turned to chlopicki as the only man capable of standing at the head of the nation. the command of the army, with absolute powers, was conferred upon him by acclamation, and one of the patriot leaders concluded his address to him with these words: "brother, take the sword of your ancestors and predecessors, czarnecki, dombrowski, and kosciusko. guide the nation that has placed its trust in you in the path of honour. save this unhappy country." chlopicki, with his silver head grown white in the service of poland, was hailed by a hundred thousand people on the champ de mars with shouts of "our country and its brave defender, chlopicki, for ever." he promised never to abuse their confidence, and swore that he would defend the liberty of poland to the last moment. the whole nation was enthusiastic in his favour; but in less than three months, at a stormy session of the diet, he threw up his high office of dictator, and refused peremptorily to accept command of the army. this brave army, enthusiastically attached to him, was struck with profound grief at his estrangement; but, with all the faults imputed to him, it never was charged that he attempted to take advantage of his great popularity for any ambitious purposes of his own. at the battle of grokow he fought nominally as a private soldier, though skryznecki and radziwill being both deficient in military experience, the whole army looked to him for guidance. once, when the battle was setting strong against the poles, in a moment of desperation he put himself at the head of some disposable battalions, and turning away from an aiddecamp who came to him for orders, said, "go and ask radziwill; for me, i seek only death." grievously wounded, his wounds were dressed in presence of the enemy; but at two o'clock he was borne off the field, the hopes of the soldiers died, and the army remained without any actual head. throughout the revolution his conduct was cold, indifferent, and inexplicable; private letters from the emperor of russia were talked of, and even _treason_ was whispered in connexion with his name. the poles speak of him more in sorrow than in anger; they say that it was not enough that he exposed his person on the field of battle; that he should have given them the whole weight of his great military talents, and the influence of his powerful name; that, standing alone, without children or relations to be compromised by his acts, he should have consummated the glory of his life by giving its few remaining years for the liberty of his country. he appeared about sixty-five, with hair perfectly white, a high florid complexion, a firm and determined expression, and in still unbroken health, carrying himself with the proud bearing of a distinguished veteran soldier. i could not believe that he had bartered the precious satisfaction of a long and glorious career for a few years of ignoble existence; and, though a stranger, could but regret that, in the wane of life, circumstances, whether justly or not, had sullied an honoured name. it spoke loudly against him that i saw him sitting in a public restaurant at cracow, unmolested by the russian government. the next day i visited the celebrated salt-mines at wielitska. they lie about, twelve miles from cracow, in the province of galicia, a part of the kingdom of poland, which, on the unrighteous partition of that country, fell to the share of austria. although at so short a distance, it was necessary to go through all the passport formalities requisite on a departure for a foreign country. i took a fiacre and rode to the different bureaux of the city police, and, having procured the permission of the municipal authorities to leave the little territory of cracow, rode next to the austrian consul, who thereupon, and in consideration of one dollar to him in hand paid, was graciously pleased to permit me to enter the dominions of his master the emperor of austria. it was also necessary to have an order from the director of the mines to the superintendent; and furnished with this i again mounted my fiacre, rattled through the principal street, and in a few minutes crossed the vistula. at the end of the bridge an austrian soldier stopped me for my passport, a _douanier_ examined my carriage for articles subject to duty, and, these functionaries being satisfied, in about two hours from the time at which i began my preparations i was fairly on my way. leaving the vistula, i entered a pretty, undulating, and well-cultivated country, and saw at a distance a high dark line, marking the range of the carpathian mountains. it was a long time since i had seen anything that looked like a mountain. from the black sea the whole of my journey had been over an immense plain, and i hailed the wild range of the carpathian as i would the spire of a church, as an evidence of the approach to regions of civilization. in an hour and a half i arrived at the town of wielitska, containing about three thousand inhabitants, and standing, as it were, on the roof of the immense subterraneous excavations. the houses are built of wood, and the first thing that struck me was the almost entire absence of men in the streets, the whole male population being employed in the mines, and then at work below. i rode to the office of the superintendent, and presented my letter, and was received with great civility of manner but his _polish_ was perfectly unintelligible. a smutty-faced operative, just out of the mines, accosted me in latin, and i exchanged a few shots with him, but hauled off on the appearance of a man whom the superintendent had sent for to act as my guide; an old soldier who had served in the campaigns of napoleon, and, as he said, become an amateur and proficient in fighting and french. he was dressed in miner's costume, fanciful, and embroidered with gold, holding in his hand a steel axe; and, having arrayed me in a long white frock, conducted me to a wooden building covering the shaft which forms the principal entrance to the mine. this shaft is ten feet square, and descends perpendicularly more than two hundred feet into the bowels of the earth. we arranged ourselves in canvass seats, and several of the miners, who were waiting to descend, attached themselves to seats at the end of the ropes, with lamps in their hands, about eight or ten feet below us. when my feet left the brink of the shaft i felt, for a moment, as if suspended over the portal of a bottomless pit; and as my head descended below the surface, the rope, winding and tapering to a thread, seemed letting me down to the realms of pluto. but in a few moments we touched bottom. from within a short distance of the surface, the shaft is cut through a solid rock of salt, and from the bottom passages almost innumerable are cut in every direction through the same bed. we were furnished with guides, who went before us bearing torches, and i followed through the whole labyrinth of passages, forming the largest excavations in europe, peopled with upward of two thousand souls, and giving a complete idea of a subterraneous world. these mines are known to have been worked upward of six hundred years, being mentioned in the polish annals as early as twelve hundred and thirty-seven, under boleslaus the chaste, and then not as a new discovery, but how much earlier they had existed cannot now be ascertained. the tradition is, that a sister of st. casimir, having lost a gold ring, prayed to st. anthony, the patron saint of cracow, and was advised in a dream that, by digging in such a place, she would find a treasure far greater than that she had lost, and within the place indicated these mines were discovered. [illustration: salt-mines of wielitska.] there are four different stories or ranges of apartments; the whole length of the excavations is more than six thousand feet, or three quarters of an hour's walk, and the greatest breadth more than two thousand feet; and there are so many turnings and windings that my guide told me, though i hardly think it possible, that the whole length of all the passages cut through this bed of salt amounts to more than three hundred miles. many of the chambers are of immense size. some are supported by timber, others by vast pillars of salt; several are without any support in the middle, and of vast dimensions, perhaps eighty feet high, and so long and broad as almost to appear a boundless subterraneous cavern. in one of the largest is a lake covering nearly the whole area. when the king of saxony visited this place in eighteen hundred and ten, after taking possession of his moiety of the mines as duke of warsaw, this portion of them was brilliantly illuminated; and a band of music, floating on the lake, made the roof echo with patriotic airs. we crossed the lake in a flatboat by a rope, the dim light of torches, and the hollow sound of our voices, giving a lively idea of a passage across the styx; and we had a scene which might have entitled us to a welcome from the prince of the infernals, for our torch-bearers quarrelled, and in a scuffle that came near carrying us all with them, one was tumbled into the lake. our charon caught him, and, without stopping to take him in, hurried across, and as soon as we landed beat them both unmercifully. from this we entered an immense cavern, in which several hundred men were working with pickaxes and hatchets, cutting out large blocks of salt, and trimming them to suit the size of barrels. with their black faces begrimed with dust and smoke, they looked by the light of the scattered torches like the journeymen of beelzebub, the prince of darkness, preparing for some great blow-up, or like the spirits of the damned condemned to toil without end. my guide called up a party, who disengaged with their pickaxes a large block of salt from its native bed, and in a few minutes cut and trimmed it to fit the barrels in which they are packed. all doubts as to their being creatures of our upper world were removed by the eagerness with which they accepted the money i gave them; and it will be satisfactory to the advocates of that currency to know that paper money passes readily in these lower regions. there are more than a thousand chambers or halls, most of which have been abandoned and shut up. in one is a collection of fanciful things, such as rings, books, crosses, &c., cut in the rock-salt. most of the principal chambers had some name printed over them, as the "archduke," "carolina," &c. whenever it was necessary, my guides went ahead and stationed themselves in some conspicuous place, lighting up the dark caverns with the blaze of their torches, and, after allowing me a sufficient time, struck their flambeaux against the wall, and millions of sparks flashed and floated around and filled the chamber. in one place, at the end of a long, dark passage, a door was thrown open, and i was ushered suddenly into a spacious ballroom lighted with torches; and directly in front, at the head of the room, was a transparency with coloured lights, in the centre of which were the words "excelso hospiti," "to the illustrious guest," which i took to myself, though i believe the greeting was intended for the same royal person for whom the lake chamber was illuminated. lights were ingeniously arranged around the room, and at the foot, about twenty feet above my head, was a large orchestra. on the occasion referred to a splendid ball was given in this room; the roof echoed with the sound of music; and nobles and princely ladies flirted and coquetted the same as above ground; and it is said that the splendid dresses of a numerous company, and the blaze of light from the chandeliers reflected upon the surface of the rock-salt, produced an effect of inconceivable brilliancy. my chandeliers were worse than allan m'aulay's strapping highlanders with their pine torches, being dirty, ragged, smutty-faced rascals, who threw the light in streaks across the hall. i am always willing to believe fanciful stories; and if my guide had thrown in a handsome young princess as part of the welcome to the "excelso hospiti," i would have subscribed to anything he said; but, in the absence of a consideration, i refused to tax my imagination up to the point he wished. perhaps the most interesting chamber of all is the chapel dedicated to that saint anthony who brought about the discovery of these mines. it is supposed to be more than four hundred years old. the columns, with their ornamented capitals, the arches, the images of the saviour, the virgin and saints, the altar and the pulpit, with all their decorations, and the figures of two priests represented at prayers before the shrine of the patron saint, are all carved out of the rock-salt, and to this day grand mass is regularly celebrated in the chapel once every year. following my guide through all the different passages and chambers, and constantly meeting miners and seeing squads of men at work, i descended by regular stairs cut in the salt, but in some places worn away and replaced by wood or stone, to the lowest gallery, which is nearly a thousand feet below the surface of the earth. i was then a rather veteran traveller, but up to this time it had been my business to move quietly on the surface of the earth, or, when infected with the soaring spirit of other travellers, to climb to the top of some lofty tower or loftier cathedral; and i had fulfilled one of the duties of a visiter to the eternal city by perching myself within the great ball of st. peter's; but here i was far deeper under the earth than i had ever been above it; and at the greatest depth from which the human voice ever rose, i sat down on a lump of salt and soliloquized, "through what varieties of untried being, through what new scenes and changes must we pass!" i have since stood upon the top of the pyramids, and admired the daring genius and the industry of man, and at the same time smiled at his feebleness when, from the mighty pile, i saw in the dark ranges of mountains, the sandy desert, the rich valley of the nile and the river of egypt, the hand of the world's great architect; but i never felt man's feebleness more than here; for all these immense excavations, the work of more than six hundred years, were but as the work of ants by the roadside. the whole of the immense mass above me, and around and below, to an unknown extent, was of salt; a wonderful phenomenon in the natural history of the globe. all the different strata have been carefully examined by scientific men. the uppermost bed at the surface is sand; the second clay occasionally mixed with sand and gravel, and containing petrifactions of marine bodies; the third is calcareous stone; and from these circumstances it has been conjectured that this spot was formerly covered by the sea, and that the salt is a gradual deposite formed by the evaporation of its waters. i was disappointed in some of the particulars which had fastened themselves upon my imagination. i had heard and read glowing accounts of the brilliancy and luminous splendour of the passages and chambers, compared by some to the lustre of precious stones; but the salt is of a dark gray colour, almost black, and although sometimes glittering when the light was thrown upon it, i do not believe it could ever be lighted up to shine with any extraordinary or dazzling brightness. early travellers, too, had reported that these mines contained several villages inhabited by colonies of miners, who lived constantly below, and that many were born and died there, who never saw the light of day; but all this is entirely untrue. the miners descend every morning and return every night, and live in the village above. none of them ever sleep below. there are, however, two horses which were foaled in the mines, and have never been on the surface of the earth. i looked at these horses with great interest. they were growing old before their time; other horses had perhaps gone down and told them stories of a world above which they would never know. it was late in the afternoon when i was hoisted up the shaft. these mines do not need the embellishment of fiction. they are, indeed, a wonderful spectacle, and i am satisfied that no traveller ever visited them without recurring to it as a day of extraordinary interest. i wrote my name in the book of visiters, where i saw those of two american friends who had preceded me about a month, mounted my barouche, and about an hour after dark reached the bank of the vistula. my passport was again examined by a soldier and my carriage searched by a custom-house officer; i crossed the bridge, dined with my worthy host of the hotel de la rose blanche, and, while listening to a touching story of the polish revolution, fell asleep in my chair. and here, on the banks of the vistula, i take my leave of the reader. i have carried him over seas and rivers, mountains and plains, through royal palaces and peasants' huts, and in return for his kindness in accompanying me to the end, i promise that i will not again burden him with my incidents of travel. the end. a new classified and descriptive catalogue of harper & brothers' publications has just been issued, comprising a very extensive range of literature, in its several departments of history, biography, philosophy, travel, science and art, the classics, fiction, &c.; also, many splendidly embellished productions. the selection of works includes not only a large proportion of the most esteemed literary productions of our times, but also, in the majority of instances, the best existing authorities on given subjects. this new catalogue has been constructed with a view to the especial use of persons forming or enriching their literary collections, as well as to aid principals of district schools and seminaries of learning, who may not possess any reliable means of forming a true estimate of any production; to all such it commends itself by its explanatory and critical notices. the valuable collection described in this catalogue, consisting of about _two thousand volumes_, combines the two-fold advantages of great economy in price with neatness--often elegance of typographical execution, in many instances the rates of publication being scarcely one fifth of those of similar issues in europe. *** copies of this catalogue may be obtained, free of expense, by application to the publishers personally, or by letter, post-paid. to prevent disappointment, it is requested that, whenever books ordered through any bookseller or local agent can not be obtained, applications with remittance be addressed direct to the publishers, which will be promptly attended to. _new york, january, 1847._ list of corrections: p. 13: "voznezeuski" was changed to "vosnezeuski." p. 21: "the last time in the _calèche_" was changed to "the last time in the _calêche_." p. 71: "merchandize" was changed to "merchandise" as elsewhere in the book. p. 77: "the men where nowhere" was changed to "the men were nowhere." p. 129: "sailed down the dneiper from kief" was changed to "sailed down the dnieper from kief." p. 137: "of a lilach colour" was changed to "of a lilac colour." p. 202: "diebisch directed the strength" was changed to "diebitsch directed the strength." errata: the summary in the table of contents is not always consistent with the summary at the beginning of each chapter. the original has been retained. the sultan and his people. by c. oscanyan, of constantinople. illustrated by a native of turkey. new york: derby & jackson, 119 nassau street. cincinnati: h. w. derby & co. london: sampson low, son & co. 1857. entered according to act of congress, to the year 1857, by derby & jackson, in the clerk's office of the district court of the united states, for the southern district of new york. w. h. tinson, stereotyper. geo. russell & co., printers. to my alma mater, the university of the city of new york, this work is respectfully dedicated by one of its offspring. contents. chapter page i. preliminary chapter, 9 ii. historical sketch of the origin of the turks, 20 iii. their religious creeds, 27 iv. sectarianism, 37 v. practice of religion, 51 vi. pilgrimage to mecca, 67 vii. principles of the turkish government, 105 viii. the administrative government, 109 ix. policy of the government, 114 x. historical sketch of the janissaries, 117 xi. the ulema or spiritual branch of the turkish government, 127 xii. revenue and expenditure, 134 xiii. army and navy, 138 xiv. commerce, 144 xv. jurisprudence, 149 xvi. education, 159 xvii. medicine, 167 xviii. western prejudices and eastern toleration, 171 xix. the sultan and his personnel, 180 xx. public duties of the sultan, 200 xxi. the romance of the east, 206 xxii. the harem, 212 xxiii. condition of women, 224 xxiv. personal appearance, costume, etc., 232 xxv. domestic arrangements, 238 xxvi. social intercourse, 246 xxvii. polygamy, 253 xxviii. marriage and divorce, 259 xxix. sultan's harem and household, 264 xxx. circassian and nubian slaves, 274 xxxi. the watering places, 280 xxxii. the bazaars, 293 xxxiii. the kahvés, 299 xxxiv. the hamams, or baths, 320 xxxv. the rayas, or non-mussulman subjects--armenians, 340 xxxvi. the rayas, or non-mussulman subjects--greeks, 364 xxxvii. the rayas, or non-mussulman subjects--jews, 376 xxxviii. pera and the perotes, or franks, 381 xxxix. the aristocracy and the people, 393 xl. the future of turkey, 419 the sultan and his people. preliminary chapter. mutability is the appropriate motto of humanity; for what are men but creatures of a day; monarchs, but transient shadows of earthly greatness; empires, but passing events? time, with more than eagle swiftness, hurls all things into the great bosom of eternity. futurity is dark and impenetrable, but the present is with us, and still more the past, teeming with vast records of human life, of rising and falling empires, bloody tales of extinguished armies and extirpated races of mankind, detailing the effects of the wild ambition of kings, emperors, sultans, themselves but atoms, yet involving the whole mass in their career. contrast is often the greatest source of pleasure to the mind; therefore do the citizens of this new world delight to revel in the scenes of the olden hemisphere, which was in full glory when this vast continent lay in undiscovered obscurity. orientalism! talisman to conjure up the shades of the very parents of our race, and of the old patriarchs of israel, to array in picturesque and savage beauty the vision of arabian horsemen, flying steeds, vast encampments on arid plains, tribes of wandering tartars, and almost to awaken the echoes of the clashing and blood-stained scimitars of the desperate champions of the crescent, the followers of the prophet. and while there is a wall of iron between us and our future, the eventful record of by-gone times displays to us the development of all that was hidden to our ancestors. there is a great difference between the primitive condition of the human race and the effects which time has produced upon that wonderful structure, man! simplicity, almost childlike, seems to characterize the living mind of man in its embryo state, while years of successive re-conceptions have continued to develop this noble emanation from the great spirit of the universe. but how deeply interesting to us, who are the embodiment of the more mature and experienced human wisdom, to look into the vast womb of the past, and trace the growth of the great human foetus. the impress of the original condition of our race is yet upon the nations of the east, and wonderfully do they still retain the habits and ideas of the earliest ages. how vividly are the scenes of biblical record exemplified in the every-day habits of the people, who, at the present time, dwell in those venerated countries. the patriarchal family government, the flowing robes, even the very style of garment of which it is recorded--"they parted my raiment, and upon my vesture they cast lots," are one and all in daily use in the east. our attention is peculiarly directed to the history of former ages, and the progress of different empires, by the events which mark the present course of time--for the great theme of the day is the past and future of turkey, the very garden of the east, and the desired of all nations, upon whose shores has lately been poured the life-blood of thousands of valiant heroes, each and all members of the vast human family, whether known to us as turks, russians, english, or french. there is an indefinable charm about all that relates to this land of the orient. the position by nature, the variety of scenery, hill, valley, and undulating plain; the great streams which water its shores, and the rich productions of the soil, the ancient capital proudly towering from its verdant hills, the key to two continents, with the "ocean stream" for a highway. the lovers of classic lore delight to realize the existence of ancient heroes, and the very homes of the demigods, as they tread its honored shores. romance seems to be merged in reality, as the robed and turbaned moslem, with stately step and meditative countenance, passes beneath your latticed casement; or the veiled lady and sable eunuch, with mysterious silence, stealthily glide along. sultans, vezirs, pashas, grand muftis, sultanas, harems, and slaves, intriguing ulema and judges, so long enveloped in the mist of fancy, are, in modern days, to emerge into the sunlight of truth and civilization, and exhibit to the study of philanthropy, only the type of ancient usages and the actual scenes of everyday life. amid the votaries to superstition and fanaticism, side by side with the banner of the cross, the followers of the prophet, with the crescent of the faithful, will, henceforth, march through time into eternity, but known and read of all men. the door to the east stands open, and we may pass within the portal to study men and manners, with their institutions, both social and political. many attempts have been made to portray the actual and past condition of this oriental empire, and as various have been the lights and shadows in which it has been pictured; some making the osmanli a paragon of humanity, and others again reducing him to a mere polypus on legs. "if those who are resident among us," observes the editor of the "new york herald," "cannot, after the lapse of years, always succeed in identifying themselves with our ideas, it is not to be expected that writers at a distance, should be able to form a fair estimate of american society from such imperfect evidences as they have before them. we have seen how few foreign tourists have penetrated below the surface of things in their analysis of our social and political life." if these strictures of the "herald" are just and true with reference to american and european countries in general, where there is such similarity, how much more applicable to our oriental clime; for, considering the peculiar form of government, and construction of society in turkey, based, as they are, upon the koran, traditional customs, and oriental conventionalities, hitherto so inaccessible as well as incomprehensible to strangers, it is, indeed, no matter of wonder that such heterogeneous portraits of eastern men and manners have been promulgated to the world by travellers and bibliomanists. language is the great vehicle of ideas, the bond of man with man, the "open sesame" to the spirit of every community--the record of the past, the exponent of the present, and the foreteller of the future. but how few, even of modern savans, have acquired a knowledge of the oriental dialects, which are never used in europe, and only called into exercise by researches into ancient chronicles. even many who have long resided in the east, and whose daily and hourly contact with the inhabitants would seem to demand a mutual understanding, have lived and died in a stoical adherence to their own mother tongues. a french merchant, mons. b., who had enjoyed the advantages of commerce in the east for twenty-five years, may be quoted as an example. either considering his own superior civilization compromised by such a condescension to barbarism, or unable to train his exclusively french organs to any other guise of speech, mons. b.'s ideas and expressions were always in his mother tongue. when, therefore, on a certain occasion, his turkish porter excited his displeasure, he poured out his indignation in pure gallic, which lost much of its intended effect upon his employé, who could not imagine the cause of his master's agitation and vehemence, and ventured to ask an explanation of a bystander. "what?" said the irritated frenchman, "does the stupid fellow mean to say that having been with me for the past five-and-twenty years, he does not yet understand french?" "mashallah!" responded the astonished turk, "my master, who has been here so long a time, why can he not scold me in turkish?" emergencies are constantly occurring, and as interpreters cannot be omnipresent, ridiculous misunderstandings are often the results. the complacent french and english seem to think their respective languages universal, and upon their arrival in the east, address the people accordingly, who can only look and listen, and strain their senses for one familiar word or phrase; sometimes the simplest expression, through some euphonious resemblance, may convey an opposite meaning, or even a flattering compliment be mistaken for a victimizing oath. a party of french naval officers, one day visited the shoe bazaar, and were attracted by the beauty of the collection of a certain merchant. the author happening to be present, officiated as interpreter for them, and advised the merchant to display all his best specimens of embroidered slippers, so that the gentlemen soon had an innumerable variety before them. but one of them yet unsatisfied, with a spirit of independence, took a slipper in his hand, and showing it to the merchant, said, "beaucoup mieux, beaucoup mieux, efendi." the grave merchant instead of replying, turned all of a sudden pale with rage, and gathering up his embroidered wares, mercilessly consigned them to the recesses of his shop, and bestowing upon these insolent giavours a most genuine turkish benediction, ordered them to quit his premises instanter. bewildered at the singular conduct of the merchant, i inquired as to the cause of his sudden irritation. "what! did you not hear the impudent rascal say, bokoumu-yé?" said the enraged turk; an expression too unfit for ears polite to be translated into english, though sometimes heard in the purlieus of the five points. i attempted to explain, but in vain; the turkish was unmistakable, so thought the shoe-merchant, who insisted that they had at least learned that much of the language of the country. thus, with entire ignorance of the language, thoroughly impregnated with the prejudices of a european education, the foreigner looks only upon the surface of things, and comprehends nothing, where the simplest habits of life and etiquette are diametrically opposed to his preconceived ideas. the osmanli would stare with astonishment at the presumption with which a frank uncovered his head in his august presence; while the exquisite of the beau-monde would be lost in wonder to see his oriental rival enter his presence without shoes, and seat himself on the sofa with his feet carefully concealed beneath him; thus only conforming to the ancient etiquettes of the bible, for moses was not commanded to uncover his head, but to put off his shoes. at least, some of the oriental forms of politeness have antiquity as their origin, and the sanction of many generations; but for the varying code of western manners, where can we look, save to the capricious tastes of the passing times. thus are the simplest habits of life reversed, and what is excessive rudeness to the one, may be the essence of politeness to the other. very frequently these contrary customs are the source of ludicrous mistakes. as we were walking one day with a friend, a sailor from the english fleet accidentally dropped his pocket-handkerchief. the gentleman regretting that the worthy tar should meet with such a loss, hailed him, at the same time beckoning with his hand à la turque, which is done by extending the arm and moving the fingers with the palm downwards, or just in the same manner as would here be done to imply a more distant removal. a police officer happening to be at no great distance, the sailor, on looking back, understood quite naturally my friend's movement as a signal for him to make his escape, and accordingly took to his heels with the greatest rapidity, leaving my companion in utter amazement. i endeavored to explain to him the reason of the sailor's conduct, by showing him the genuine european style of beckoning, by reversing the hand and moving the up-turned forefinger back and forth. this astonished him the more, since that motion is equivalent, in turkey, to that comical american gesture of placing the thumb on the tip end of the nose, and extending the fingers. thus things which are in themselves trifles, may lead or mislead to mighty results, and can only be appreciated when circumstances call them into action. therefore nothing but actual nativity and education among the people, with the enlarged views which are acquired by a residence in european countries, can enable an individual to judge and appreciate the peculiar institutions of turkey. the author presents himself to the american public a native of constantinople, and of armenian parentage, with the hope that he may be able to unfold some new phases of turkey and orientalism, which may tend to remove any unfounded prejudices, and enlighten their minds with regard to the real and existing state of his country. in order to attain a just and correct idea of the present state of turkey and its probable future, it is most essential to take a cursory glance at the origin of the nation, its religion, government, civil laws, social condition, and domestic relations, which are the elements of nationality. in so doing, the writer has carefully avoided all partiality, and endeavored to display the truth, simply, and nothing but the truth, invested with the garb of a peculiar nationality, and only adorned with the poetry of oriental tastes and habits as they actually exist. chapter ii. origin and history. turkish and eastern proverbs have often a deep and significative meaning under a simple simile. they say, "a neighbor's chicken has always so unreal a magnitude in covetous eyes, that it swells in its proportions even to the size of a goose!" human nature has in reality undergone but few changes since it descended upon this planet. the simplest shepherds and the richest sovereigns have been alike swayed by the demon of envy. the earth no sooner became the inheritance of man, than its treasures excited the desire of appropriation in his breast. mine and thine were the earliest appellatives between man and his brother. all-bountiful nature provided a perpetual feast to their physical wants, in her luxuriant offerings, ready for use, without toil or labor. the flocks of the early pastoral days wandered from field to field, along with their shepherd kings. ample was the territory as they forsook the soil when winter chilled, and roamed to summer climes exempt from care. simple in their tastes, they grew and multiplied until they became mighty nations. but the monarchs of the animal world, the kings of the forests, could not brook any inroads upon their dominions, and self-defence awoke man's ingenuity, and armed him with the war-club, the unerring stone and sling, the quivering arrow, and pointed javelin. the practised hand, thus trained in vanquishing the roaring lion, easily turned against his neighbor man, and the stronger prevailed in the usurpation of coveted territories. thus war, in the absence of the arts of modern civilization became the sole aim of these wandering tribes. alliances were sometimes formed for mutual protection, and territories were ever changing masters. the primitive belief that the soil was common property, and that occupancy gave the only title to possession, induced them to trespass upon the neighboring territories. this same principle exists even at this present day among some of the people of the east, of whom the tribe of yürücks is well known in turkey, traversing the whole dominion of asia minor, according to the climate they desire to find. passing by the days of biblical history and the ancient pedigree of the arabians, we will observe the first appearance of the turks on the pages of history. as early as the ninth century, a small but adventurous band of scythians, known as the turkomans, impelled either by famine or hostility, crossed the caspian mountains, and invaded the armenian territories. although they were bravely repulsed, still the prosperous condition of the country was too alluring for them to give up all hope of its ultimate conquest, they therefore continued to harass the inhabitants by their incessant incursions. in the middle of the eleventh century, a vigorous attempt was made, under the command of toghrul bey, a grandson of seljuk, one of the principal families of tartary, with an army of one hundred thousand men, who ravaged twenty-four of its provinces. toghrul, already so distinguished by his valor, now embraced islamism, and thus added to the thirst of conquest, the ardor of the religion of the prophet. another more desperate sally was made with redoubled force, which met with similar discomfiture. fourteen years after, the infuriated tartars collecting an army of no less than three hundred thousand men, renewed their assaults. armenia was at this time not only harassed on all sides by greeks, saracens, and persians, but rent by the internal dissensions of its own princes; so that it now fell a prey to toghrul, who massacred, in cold blood, 140,000 of the inhabitants, carrying many also into captivity. the most flourishing provinces in due time were added to the conquests of the turkomans, by alf-arslan the nephew and successor of toghrul. their empire was greatly extended by the son of alf-arslan, melik-shah, and was subsequently divided among three branches of the house of seljuk. suleyman, the third in descent from melik-shah, was the first turkoman prince who governed asia minor. er-toghrul, or orthogrul, the son of suleyman, having by his assistance on a certain occasion, secured a victory to ali-ed-din, the sultan of babylon, kara-hissar in bithynia, was bestowed upon him, and there he settled with his family, which consisted of three sons. osman, the eldest son and successor of his father, orthogrul, was left by the death of ali-ed-din, the ally of his father, without a rival in the government of syria; he was accordingly proclaimed sultan. in the year 1,300 he made neapolis the capital of his dominions, and from thence is dated the foundation of the present ottoman empire. osman was so distinguished by his conquests, and became so endeared to his subjects, that ever since his time, the appellation of osmanlis has been adopted by them; and the word türk, or turk, so indiscriminately applied to them by the europeans, is not only inappropriate, but of a disagreeable signification, for it is only used among themselves as an epithet of opprobrium. in the twenty-sixth year of his reign, osman took the city of broossa, in asia minor, which his son orkhan, who succeeded him, made the capital of his dominions. the desire, however, to possess the city of stamboul, was transferred with increasing ardor from sultan to sultan; but the glory of its conquest was reserved for mohammed ii. the effeminate condition of the greeks favored his design; for out of a population of 200,000 men, there were scarcely 8,000 ready to defend their capital; and on the 29th of may, 1453, constantinople fell into the hands of the osmanlis, or descendants of osman, who have held it in possession until the present day. it is evident that the osmanlis are the descendants of the scythians, or one of the tartar tribes; but who those scythians originally were, may be questioned. a very curious, but plausible theory is advanced by some persons, that the tartars are of the jewish race. tarat-har or tartar, in the syrian language, signifies the remnant of a people. now, in the second book of kings, it is recorded that the king of assyria took samaria, and carried israel away into assyria, and placed them in halah and habor, by the river of gozan in the cities of the medes. this was about 720 years before christ. medea is situated near the caspian sea; possessed entirely by these tartars. the names which are given to their principal cities, are the same as were common among the jews. for instance, the capital of tartary is called semerkand; which is a corruption of samaryan, very similar to samaria. there are, moreover, many relics of antiquity in this city, which bear undeniable evidences of having been jewish monuments. they have also another town called jericho, a mount sion and a mount tabor, with a river yordon or jordan. they are divided into ten tribes, bearing names similar to the ancient patriarchs of israel. they are under one government, but avoid all intermarriages; which was also a peculiar observance of the jews. there is also a great similarity between the tartar and the hebrew languages. the degeneracy of their language, may be attributed to the fact, that they were long captives in a strange land, and removed from all intercourse with more enlightened nations. the tartars have even been known to observe the jewish rites of worship and circumcision, and they traditionally boast themselves to be descended from those israelites, who, conquering their conquerors, became possessed of all the territories by the caspian sea. indeed, timour-link or tamerlane the great, is said to have proudly asserted, that he was descended in a direct line from the tribe of dan. from these facts, it seems very probable that the people known as the tartars, are the ten lost tribes of the jews; and it is historically certain, that the founders of the present turkish empire, are descendants of these tartars. chapter iii. religion. five hundred and sixty-nine years after christ, mohammed the prophet was born at mecca, where his immediate ancestors had for many years enjoyed a sort of regal and priestly authority over the caaba or temple of the arabians, which, for at least seven hundred years, had been the shrine of adoration for the worshippers of the sun, moon, and stars. his family was considered the most illustrious, among the tribes of the arabs, so that he was born to distinction. the early loss of his parents left him an orphan, under the care of his uncle abu-taleb, who paid little attention to his nephew. at the early age of twelve years, he was initiated into the mysteries of eastern commerce, as he journeyed with his uncle through syria, to bassora and damascus. but the contemplative mind of this youth, destined to become the prophet of his country, gathered into its fructifying soil the tenets of the religious faith of the christians, which were more congenial to his spirit than the idolatries of his own people. the arabs too, were anticipating the birth of a messiah of their own, who was to descend from the sacred guardians of the caaba; so that circumstances seemed to point out to the precocious youth, this road to greatness. well born, of insinuating manners and graceful address, noble and majestic in appearance, mohammed became the object of affection to the wealthy widow khatijeh, who married him, and thus riches were added to his facilities. the great crowd of pilgrims who assembled in mecca, afforded the prophet constant occasions for the discussion of various systems of religious faith, until mohammed resolved to announce himself as the completion of the revelation of god to the jews and christians--the predicted by moses and christ, who coming after them, should be the greatest of all the prophets. to the idolatrous arabs he proclaimed one god, omnipotent and imperishable; to the christians he revived the unity of their maker, and recalled to the jews the jehovah, whose worship they had so corrupted. the confusion of the asiatic states, rent with wars, tumults and heresies, wonderfully favored the spread of mohammedanism, even beyond the warmest anticipations of the prophet. arming himself with the sword, and promising the joys of paradise to every soldier of the crescent who should die on the battle-field, he led on this wonderful prodigy of a religious faith, conquering and to conquer. at this day there are no less than 200,550,000 mahommedans! the koran, or the written, is the compendium of the faith, practice and civil laws of mussulmans, ingeniously compiled by their great arabian prophet, and is styled by the faithful, the light of god, sole guide to paradise, divine director to heavenly glories, and in common parlance, the eternal word--kelamu-kadim. they acknowledge the divine origin of the pentateuch, the psalms of david, and the four gospels, and upon these books, with the koran, their oaths are taken. the koran declares, "verily the true religion in the sight of god is islam," which is the proper name of the mohammedan faith, and it signifies resignation or submission to the service and commands of god. it consists of two principles, iman, or faith, and din, religion or practice. iman or faith. the great article of faith is called salavat, and is expressed in these words: "la-illah, ill-allah, mohammed ressoul-ullah." there is no god, but god, and mohammed is the apostle of god. they deny the doctrine of the trinity, although they acknowledge the attributes of god, his greatness, goodness, justice, omnipresence, omniscience, and incomprehensibility. christ is acknowledged to have been a prophet greater than moses, but inferior to mohammed. he is styled the word of god, kelam-ullah, in their writings, supposed to have been miraculously conceived by the virgin mary, but not of divine origin. the crucifixion they regard as inconsistent with the justice of god; to yield up so mighty a prophet, endowed with power to work miracles, and raise the dead, a victim to the unbelieving jews, they deem incompatible with divine supremacy, and even say, that when christ was led out to die, he was, invisibly to his persecutors, transported into heaven, judas the betrayer being substituted in his stead. no terrors of eternal punishment in a future state distract the unfaithful moslems, all of whom will, in due time, expiate their offences and be admitted to happiness. two angels are supposed to attend them through life and in death. one white, glorious and commiserate; the other black, severe, and cruel. there will also be a last judgment, when a tremendous trumpet will shake the earth to atoms. god will judge all men. moses, christ, and mohammed, will appear at the head of their respective followers, as intercessors. and cain will lead the immense multitude of the damned, who are doomed to suffer till their sins are cancelled, when they will take their seats in paradise; while hell, the devil, and his wicked angels, will be suddenly annihilated. a narrow bridge, fine as a hair, called surat, lies over the region of the damned. the righteous, upheld by their guardian angels, pass over safely; while the guilty fall down into awful flames and torture, doomed to quaff nothing but "boiling water, until their bowels burst." paradise is above the seventh heaven, near the throne of god. a vast and beautiful region, with palaces of gold and gardens of perpetual delight, in the midst of which is the tree of happiness, tuba, whose roots are in the palace of the prophet, but whose branches, loaded with luscious fruits and all kinds of meats prepared for food, silken robes and caparisoned steeds, will extend to the dwelling of every true believer. softly murmuring fountains, cooling shades and grottoes, mountains of sparkling diamonds, and golden trees, will adorn the gardens of delight, while the ravishing houris of these enchanting regions, will be blessed with perpetual youth and virginity. the most insignificant of the faithful will have a retinue of 80,000 servants and 72 wives, of the sweetly odoriferous damsels, created of pure musk, in addition to the companions of his earthly sojourn. delicious streams of wine, milk, and honey, will flow on perpetually; balmy zephyrs will pervade the atmosphere; the very physical excretions of the true believers will be but odoriferous exhalations. while the senses are thus ravished with delights, the most excelling of all their beatific visions will be the presence of allah, which is beyond the power of language to describe. fatalism is a characteristic item in the mohammedan creed. they believe that whatever happens is pre-ordained by the omniscient, which article of faith is designated kader or predestination. but the doctrine of "free-agency" the iradeyi-jüseeyé or the "lesser will," is also in their creed. hence every one is bound to exert himself to his utmost; and it is only when he fails, that he resigns himself calmly and philosophically to his disappointment, saying kader, or it is my fate. the following legend may perhaps serve to illustrate the spirit of oriental fatalism: half-way across the bosphorus, and between seraglio point and scutari, in asia, is the renowned kiz-koulessi, or the maiden's tower. it was predicted that the beautiful daughter of a certain sultan would meet with an early death, from the bite of a serpent. contrary to prediction, her father hoped to avert her fate, by placing her in a situation inaccessible to those reptiles. as he revolved the subject in his mind, from the windows of the seraglio, his eye rested on the rock in the stream, where he immediately ordered a tower to be erected, and thither the unhappy princess was conveyed and immured in her island home. but who can resist the decrees of fate? bin djahd etsen na-muradé olmaz moukadderden ziyadé. you may do your utmost, but you cannot conquer fate. scutari, fruitful in vineyards, and far-famed for its delicious grapes, was destined to furnish the venom, which poisoned the crimson tide in the veins of the beautiful sultana; for a basket of scutari grapes concealed the viper, which was the instrument in the hand of fate, and the fulfillment of the prophecy. it is, doubtless, in the recollection of many of the citizens of new york, that a short time ago an individual passing by wallack's theatre was suddenly killed by the falling of the flag-staff from the top of the building. this sad occurrence was not the result of carelessness or temerity, but purely accidental; and would also be termed in turkey kaza or accident. yet why the accident should have happened to this individual more than to any other of the hundreds of persons who passed the same spot--mohammedan doctrine would simply answer, "it was his kader or predestination." to mourn, therefore, for the dead, or complain against misfortune, would by them be esteemed a grievous sin, as though censuring the almighty, without whose knowledge "not a sparrow falleth to the ground." it is not fatalism that makes the mohammedan indifferent to casualties, but his exaggerated and misconceived ideas of his religious obligations; for human imperfectibility is as prominent an article of their creed as fatalism, and even induces a disposition to avoid self-improvement either intellectually or externally. perfection being the attribute of the deity, it is unbecoming in his creatures to assert, in any form whatever, their capabilities of approximation to such a condition. while, then, their minds repose in the simplicity of innate ideas, they even seek imperfection in the investiture of their bodies. they will rend their garments so as to mar their completeness, assume an air of general slovenliness, or studiously clip the corner of a sheet of paper to destroy its regular uniformity. it is, then, most erroneous to suppose that the doctrine of fatalism is so antagonistic to civilization in the east, as it implies resignation to the divine will, and by no means impedes active personal exertion. but in reality it is the seeming propriety of human imperfection, in contradistinction to the divine excellence, which has hitherto maintained a spirit of indifference to progressive improvement. while an entire submission to the course of events, as preordained and predestined by the omniscient, prevents all restless anxiety, and calms the repinings of the heart-broken and weary, this more truly fatal and false notion of inferiority, only leaves the immortal mind in a sort of embryo state, lest, perchance, there should be any assimilation to the great supreme essence, from which it is but an emanation, or the spark should glow with the brightness of the fire from which it has been wafted. chapter iv. sectarianism. besides the koran, there are other sacred and traditional books called the sonnah, the productions of abubekir, omer, and osman, the successors of the prophet. the ancient caliphs of egypt and babylon have also added their own. these books have numerous commentaries upon them, which constitute the principal part of the mohammedan literature, and have been the source of much dissension. sectarianism, therefore, prevails among the mussulmans as in every part of the world. we will only mention those sects with whom the traveller in the east is apt to come in contact. the principal schism which divides the mohammedan nation is that of the sünnees and the sheyees. the sünnees are the orthodox party, and believe in the traditions attributed to the prophet and his successors, and are strict in all their observances. whereas the sheyees reject all traditions and are strict legitimists, adhering to aali, who married the prophet's daughter, as the rightful successor, and rendering their homage to his descendants. the turks are all sünnees, and the persians sheyees, the one is more fanatical, the other more superstitious, and as the difference between them is small, so is their mutual hatred proportionably intense. the sünnees repudiate aali, the infallible director of the sheyees, who, in their turn, decapitate the representatives of the prophet, abubekir, omer, and osman in effigy. for they erect these persons in sugar at their festivals, and when merry over their wine, cut the respected friends of mohammed into pieces and actually drink them in solution. the turks elevate the sacred color, green, to their heads and turbans with the greatest respect, but in contradistinction, the persians choose this hue for their shoes, trowsers, and every other disrespectful use their ingenuity can devise. when the one shaves, the other does not, and scorns the thorough ablutions of his rival. indeed no matter how or what, so it be vice versâ. most ingenious and vituperative are their mutual curses. "may your fatigued and hated soul, when damned to berzak (purgatory), find no more rest than a giavour's hat enjoys upon earth." doubtless alluding to the peculiar custom of the franks in uncovering their head in saluting, and the wear and tear that head-gear has to undergo. "may your transmuted soul become in hell a hackney ass, for the jews themselves to ride about on," and many such emphatic compliments are the height of fashion among the zealous adherents of each adverse party. not only in the west, but in the east, "'tis strange there should such difference be, 'twixt tweedledum and tweedledee." apart from the foregoing, the very meaning of the word islam, or resignation to the service and commands of god, has been a source of much dissertation and dissension, and has produced a variety of sects, of which the hanefees, mevlevees, rifayees, and abdals, are the most noted in turkey. the hanefees are the contemplative philosophers, oriental spiritualists or transcendentalists; and to this class the sultan and the principal part of the people belong. the mevlevees are the dancing or whirling dervishes, and they may therefore be considered as the oriental shakers. their object is practical resignation to god, which state of mind they think they attain, by whirling round and round until their senses are lost in the dizzy motion. they conform to the general tenets and observances, but their form of worship is peculiar. their religious edifices are called tekkés, which are open every tuesday and friday, and are frequently visited by the sultan and europeans in general. a large square space, which is surrounded by a circular railing, constitutes the scene of their ritual, or ceremonies. a gallery occupies three sides of the building, in which is the latticed apartment of the sultan, and the place for the turkish ladies. in every mosque, and here also, there is a niche opposite the entrance, called the mihrab, which indicates the direction of mecca. the walls are adorned with entablatures, ornamented with verses from the koran, and with ciphers of sultans, and mottos in memory of other benevolent individuals, who have endowed the tekké. the sheikh, or leader of the community, sits in front of the mihrab, on an angora goat-skin, or a carpet, attended by two of his disciples. an attenuated old man, with a visage furrowed and withered by time, bronzed by many successive suns, his long and grizzly beard witnessing to the ravages of age, while his prominent eyes sparkling like lightnings amid the surrounding darkness, are the only symbols of animation or life, in his worn-out frame. the dervishes, as they enter, make a low obeisance with folded hands to this patron saint, with an air of mystic veneration, and take their stand with their faces towards mecca. the old sheikh arises, and presiding over the assembly commences the services. their peculiar head-gear, called sikké, of thick brown felt, in the shape of a sugar loaf, and long and flowing robes of varied hues, make them seem like fantastic representations of some other sphere, particularly, when they commence the slow and measured prostrations of mussulman worship. prayers being over, each dervish doffs his mantle, and appears in a long white fustanella, trailing the polished floor, and of innumerable folds, with a tightly fitting vest of the same pure color. they now defile two by two before the sheikh, who extending his hand towards them, seems to diffuse a sort of magnetism, which irradiates every countenance. as they stand immovable, the wild and thrilling music slowly pervades every sense, until suddenly one of the number extends his arms, and begins to revolve noiselessly, with slow and measured step. the folds of his ample skirt now gradually open like the wings of a bird, and with the swiftness of his motion, expand, until the dervish only appears like the centre of a whirlwind. the rest are all alike in motion, arms extended, eyes half closed as in a dream, the head inclined on one side, they move round and round to the measured time of the music, as if floating in ecstasy. the calm and unimpassioned chief, with slow and stealthy step, wanders among their evolutions. suddenly they cease, and march around the circle. the music increases its measure, and the dervishes again commence their giddy motions; old and young seem to be in a visionary rhapsody. perhaps transported in the bewildering whirl to the regions of the blest, they languish with rapture in the arms of the houris of paradise; or lose their earthly senses amid the glories which surround the throne of allah; till suddenly they stand transfixed, their outspread and snowy drapery folding around them like the marble investment of an antique statue. they are all prostrated, exhausted by their ecstasies, and immovable, until the sheikh recalls them to the realities of time by his holy benediction, when they slowly rise again, compass the building, and enveloping themselves with their cast-off mantles, silently disappear. howling dervishes. there is an intoxication in the very motions of the whirling dervishes, but the horrible ceremonies of the rifayees are really distressing to the beholder. a long, empty hall, much like that of the inquisition, as its walls are adorned by an infinite variety of instruments of torture, constitutes their temple of worship. the fanatical disciples of this sect assemble every thursday at their tekké, which is in scutari, and after the performance of the usual ritual of the mussulmans, commence their ceremonies by ranging themselves along the three sides of the apartment and within the balustrade, which serves to separate them from the spectators. their sheikh takes his stand before the mihrab facing the assembly, and three or four of the members furnishing themselves with instruments of music place themselves in the centre of the hall. the performance then begins, by a monotonous chant, accompanied with music, and the waving of their heads to and fro, which seems to create a sympathetic vertigo in the mussulman bystanders--for they often are irresistibly drawn into the ranks. by degrees, the motion increases, the chant grows louder, and their countenances become livid, and their lungs seem to expand with the noise and excitement. the line becomes a solid phalanx as they place their arms on each other's shoulders, and withdrawing a step, suddenly advance with a tremendous and savage yell, allah--allah--allah--hoo! which divine appellative is to be repeated a thousand times uninterruptedly. this strenuous effort renders them perfectly hideous, their very eyes seem ready to start from their sockets, and their lips foam as the inspiration possesses them. thus retreating and springing forward, they, each time, with increasing energy, renew their invocations of allah, allah, allah, hoo! until the distinctness of their articulation is lost, and their exclamation becomes, in reality a complete howl, as if proceeding from a pack of enraged dogs--thus meriting the sobriquet of the "howling dervishes." the movements and cries increase in swiftness until a mist of dust pervades the dim apartment, and the wild and pale enthusiasts, drenched with perspiration, seem like fantastic demons in the realms of discord. suddenly some of them, stripped to their waists, rush forward and seizing the poignards and stilettoes, commence a wild, infuriated dance, jumping, leaping, and lacerating themselves--fixing the weapons into the hollow of their cheeks, and twisting them round and round, as if on pivots, until, exhausted from exertion, they fall to the ground in a spasmodic fit. "only to show with how small pain, the sores of faith are cured again," now the enthusiastic mothers approach, and cast their children before the presiding sheikh, who, as they lie extended before him, deliberately plants his heavy feet upon their frail bodies, and so stands for some seconds. old men and maidens, lay themselves low before this saint, who is supposed to be by this time so inspired as to have a miraculous power of expressing all ailments and maladies from the human frame, and to have become so etherealized by the ecstatic ceremonies as to lose all his specific gravity. the abdals include the various classes of the stoics, who generally pretend to a total renunciation of all worldly comforts. sometimes clothed in the coarsest garments, and again half naked, and even with lacerated bodies, they wander through the mohammedan dominions, a miserable set of frantic, idle, and conceited beggars. they may, in fact, be considered the "communists" of the east, who despising honest pursuits, live upon the community at large. they commit the worst extravagances under the pretence of heavenly raptures, and are even supposed to be divinely inspired. idiots and fools are esteemed by the mohammedans as the favorites of heaven; their spirits are supposed to have deserted their earthly tenements, and to be holding converse with angels, while their bodies still wander about the earth. it would be wearisome to go into further details; for infinite is the diversity of the orthodox theologies of the mohammedans, with the 235 articles of the creed, on which all the doctors of divinity differ; hopeless must be the task of the student to surmount the commentaries of the 280 canonical authors, not to mention the innumerable heretical tenets of other sects, which must be studied to be controverted. verily we would suggest the recipe of a certain molla, who must have given up in dire despair, "whenever you meet with an infidel, abuse him with all your might, and no one will doubt you are a staunch believer." as long as war and its exciting scenes occupied the restless minds of the arabs, there was no time for religious or party intrigue. the simple "la illah-illallah," satisfied the momentary breathings of their souls heavenward. the turmoil of their life, the glitter of their arms and dreadful carnage of all infidels, sufficed to ease their fancy, and satisfy the thirst for excitement. it was as they wiped their blood-stained scimitars, and during the reaction which comparative peace and luxury created, that their minds, free from more substantial food and activity, sought greater refinement of spirituality. in the absence of the real, the speculative began to grow, until imams and ulema found that they could turn the tide of human affairs to their own advantage, by exciting polemical and theological controversies. a comparative study of the niceties of mussulman doctrine, and hair-breadth distinctions with those of more refined and enlightened creeds, while it displays many and striking similarities, only illustrates, with startling vividness, the time worn maxim, that "there is nothing new under the sun." chapter v. din or practice of religion. the din, or practice of religion, comprises ablution, prayer, alms, fasting, and a pilgrimage to mecca. ablution.--bathing, and various forms of ablutions, were practised long before the time of mohammed; but he has incorporated cleanliness with his religion, until his followers seem to regard water as not only possessed of virtue to cleanse the pollutions of their bodies, but as purifying their souls from the contamination of sin. therefore, fountains are always to be found in the neighborhood of all the mosques, in every part of the city and its suburbs, and on the highways--for they never omit this preliminary to their devotions, which includes washing the face, hands, and feet; and when they happen to be in the desert, where no water can be obtained, sand is substituted. indeed, the same ablutions are so essential, that their observance is invariably required of the faithful, before the administration of an oath. prayers. five times a day the mussulmans are summoned to prayer by the muezzin. early in the morning, just before the sun is above the horizon, the ezan resounds through the still atmosphere, from the airy balcony of the tapering minaré. the muezzin, covering his ears with his hands, as if to exclude all terrestrial sound, turns his face towards mecca, and chants with musical cadence, the beautiful arabic formula. "allah, ikber! allah ikber! &c, great god! great god! there is no god, but god! i attest that mohammed is the apostle of god! oh, great redeemer! oh! ruler of the universe! great god! great god! there is no god but god!" and he slowly moves round the balcony, as if addressing the inhabitants of all parts of the world. those who catch the echoes of the holy call, exclaim with solemn earnestness, "there is no power, no strength but in god almighty." again, when the hour of noon seems to indicate a moment of repose to the work-day world, the ezan summons all thoughts and aspirations to the great god. at three o'clock in the afternoon, at sunset, and finally at nine o'clock, the call resounds ere they prepare for sleep. how beautiful thus to note the passage of time, to look thus from earth to heaven, to forget for a moment all worldly cares, and breathe out a soul aspiration towards a better land. those who happen to be near a mosque, enter it for the purpose of performing their devotions; others are in their own houses; and many prostrate themselves by the wayside; or even on board the daily steamers. the mosques are always open, and there is an imam who presides over the devotions. the interior of a mosque, is as simple as that of any protestant church. the only ornaments seen are the suspended lamps, interspersed here and there with ostrich eggs. there are no accommodations for sitting down, and the altar is the niche or mihrab. there is a small pulpit on one side, from which a sermon is preached every friday noon; but the form of prayer is always the same. as they assemble, they leave their shoes at the door, "for the ground is holy," and seat themselves upon the floor, which is either covered with carpet or matting. at the appointed time, the imam commences the service, by taking his position before the mihrab; and placing his thumbs behind his ears, as if with his open palms to shut out all objects of sense, proclaims to the assembly, "allah-ikber! allah-ikber!" the congregation rise and imitate the officiating priest. all remain standing with their hands folded on their bosoms, while the imam repeats the first chapter of the koran--which is the lord's prayer of the mohammedans, termed fatiha. "in the name of the most merciful god; praise be to god, the lord of all creatures; the most merciful; the king of the day of judgment; thee do we worship, and of thee do we beg assistance; direct us in the right way, in the way of those to whom thou hast been gracious; not of those against whom them art incensed, nor of those who go astray. amen." they then make a semi-genuflexion, by placing the hands on the knees, and bending the person forward. a complete genuflexion succeeds, which is made by bending the knees to the ground, and extending the arms forward as a support to the body, while the forehead touches the ground. these same genuflexions are again repeated; then partially rising they sit on their bended knees. here endeth the first lesson, for two other similar ceremonies are repeated successively, during which any portion of the koran may be selected by the officiating imam for recitation. the termination of the service is known when the imam, after a few moments of silent meditation, slowly turns his head, first towards the right and then to the left, in token of salutation to the two recording angels who are supposed to be hovering over each shoulder. he then strokes his beard, and rises from his devotions. his example is followed by the congregation, who immediately disperse. there is a wonderful air of sacred stillness during the services in a mosque. the simplest and plainest attire is worn, and everything excluded which could divert the attention from god and his worship. no man utters prayers as matters of form, while he stares about to see how his neighbors' clothes are fashioned. no sound of footsteps or creaking boots is heard, nor opening or shutting of pews. no cushioned seats invite to listlessness, or even to slumbers; no ennui steals over their devotional spirits; the world is literally and practically excluded. no earthly houris tempt their thoughts from god, with alluring smiles and recognitions; there is no peeping from behind the prayer books, or fluttering fans, or any other of the insinuating wiles of coquetry. ladies with their sweet eyes turned to heaven, while their rosy lips are modeled to scorn of their neighbor's want of taste and fashion, are invisible in the mohammedan temple. here the faithful come to worship god, and they wisely divest the shrine of their devotions of all the trappings of earthly grandeur, and leave beyond the portal the alluring and sensual pleasures of earth. the presence of infidels during the hours of worship is expressly forbidden, not only as being a source of mental distraction to the faithful, but in reality an act of perjury on their own part. "it is not fitting that the idolaters should visit the temples of god, being witnesses against their own souls of their infidelity. the works of these men are vain, and they shall remain in hell-fire forever. but he only shall visit the temples of god, who believeth in god and the last day, and is constant at prayer, and payeth legal alms, and feareth god alone." alms.--the essence of islamism, resignation to the will of god, has its legitimate effect upon the benevolence of the mohammedans. if allah bestows wealth and luxury, they receive and enjoy the good gifts, but without any self-gratulation. if misfortune arrive, they submit without any feeling of degradation, practically illustrating the words of job, "shall we receive good at the hand of the lord and not evil?" the faithful are enjoined to be constant in prayer and give alms. "contribute out of your substance towards the religion of god, and throw not yourselves into perdition. do good, for god loveth those who do good; unto such of you as believe and bestow alms, shall be given a great reward," and whoever pays not his legal contribution of alms duly, it is declared by mohammed, that he shall have a serpent twisted about his neck at the resurrection; so that the mussulmans have every incentive to charity, both as regards this life and that which is to come. it is very common for them to found charitable institutions, such as poorhouses, hospitals, etc., and the same principles of charity induce them to an unlimited hospitality. during the feast of ramazan, a special table is set for the poor, in the houses of the wealthy, who come and partake without summons or invitation. the innumerable beggars and mendicant dervishes in turkey, are doubtless tolerated from the same spirit of liberality. as the koran is but a compilation from jewish and christian writers, adapted to the spirit of the age in which it was promulgated, no doubt the difficult but sublime doctrine of christ, "let not thy right hand know what thy left hand doeth," was appreciated by the prophet in his directions regarding the exercise of the grace of charity: "god loveth not the proud or vainglorious, nor those who bestow their wealth in charity, to be observed of men." "verily god will not wrong any one, even the weight of an ant, and if it be a good action, he will double it, and will recompense it in his sight with a great reward." their charities are, therefore, bestowed with the greatest modesty and willingness, their supplications for aid from others made without any air of servility. it devolves, then, upon modern civilization to establish corporate and organized charitable bodies in turkey, and to initiate the simple mussulmans into the self satisfaction which is awakened by public meetings, and the parade of printed records. fasting.--we live to eat, or we eat to live--therefore when we are denied the great business and aim of life, we undergo a very palpable kind of mortification. the dainty epicurean seldom conforms to any regulations for extra abstemiousness, while others, more superstitious, merely vary the hours of their repast--merging the substantial meal into those which have not the nomenclature, but yet become the reality of a good dinner. again, the pleasant variety of fish for fowl, or of oil for butter, does not leave any sensation of emptiness, or mortification of the appetite. but there is a sort of genuineness in the mohammedan style of observing a fast--when, for fourteen consecutive hours, absolutely nothing passes the lips--not a drop of water, not even the homemade saliva is swallowed--no hunger-easing pipe is smoked, nor anything indulged in to palliate the gnawings of hunger and thirst. the laborer toils under a summer sun--the weary hammal climbs the towering hills under an incredible load--the athletic boatman for many hours pulls the oars; work, toil, labor cease not, but the wonted sustenance is utterly withheld. it is wonderful to see this part of the mussulman population during the fasting season--bodily strength and vigor exuding in profuse perspiration from every pore, while steady persistence in utter abstinence from all refreshment is persevered in. this great monthly fast occurs once in every year-"the month of ramazan shall ye fast, in which the koran was sent down." as they observe the lunar year, it falls in all seasons--and when it occurs during the dog-days, the sufferings of the faithful are truly great and distressing. not only are they forbidden all lusts of the belly and the flesh, such as may be committed by the eye, ear, tongue, hand, feet and other members, but the heart must be abstracted as much as possible from the world, and turned only to god and paradise--thus, a season of holy rest is instituted. among the many idlers who can afford to loiter away the day, some assume an appearance of unusual sanctimoniousness, whose peculiarly long faces and abstracted airs, most effectually ward off any attempts to recall them to the realities of life. they listlessly toy with their chaplets, gazing into vacancy as polished bead after bead slips through their fingers, and seemingly are as divested of thought, as the unmeaning, but apparently, absorbing playthings they ever dangle. these beads have no such significance as the catholic rosaries, but are always in the hand of the oriental gentlemen and ladies, and are often of great value, being composed of large pearls and other precious gems, though the ordinary style is to make them of cocoa shells, whale teeth, ivory or amber. during this fast the faithful are at the gate of religion, and the very odor of their breath is considered to be sweeter than musk to the olfactories of allah! some of them observe the fast in its true spirit and letter, and all externally conform to its regulations. no doubt to those who are incapable of religious ecstasies, who cannot transport themselves out of the world, while clogged with their human tenements, who relish not the unsubstantial viands of a superstitious faith, the hours drag very heavily on from sunrise to sunset. physical necessities sometimes force the less spiritualized to taste some of the forbidden fruits, or to avail themselves of this occasion to test the truth of the proverb, that "stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant." the more faithful, in the midst of their sufferings remember that as mohammed was, fortunately, of human mould like themselves, he informed them "god would make this an ease unto you and not a difficulty--therefore * * * * * god knoweth that ye defraud yourselves therein and forgiveth you, and now therefore * * * * * and earnestly desire that which god ordaineth you, and eat and drink until ye can plainly distinguish a white thread by the day-break, then keep the fast until night," &c. thus the faithful acquire new zest for all their sensual appetites as they anxiously listen for the sunset ezan, which releases them from their sufferings. the breaking of the fast is called iftar. each person is furnished with a small table, upon which are a bowl of light soup, a few olives, some preserves and cakes. a chibouk, already filled and ready to be lighted, is placed by their side. when the cannon booming over the bosphorus, announces the setting sun, each one partakes sparingly of these refreshments, and having regaled himself with the fumes of tobacco, attends to his regular sunset prayers, after which a sumptuous dinner is served and enjoyed. the grand namaz (prayer) is performed, after which night is turned into day. the streets, usually dark and sombre, are brightly illuminated and filled with people, mussulmans, armenians, greeks, jews, and other giavours, who all seem anxious to enjoy the carnival, if not to share the penance. the slender and tapering minarés are now girdled in light, while between the consecrated spires, depend fantastic and luminous bodies, the brilliant but mimic forms of familiar objects. the kahvés are crowded with wearied mussulmans, puffing out clouds of smoke, in pure spite for their long abstinence from their favorite weed, while their imaginations are regaled with the exciting tales of the meddahs, or the drolleries of the far famed kara-gueöz. stalls are erected with all the various preparations of food peculiarly agreeable to turkish palates; tempting shops stand invitingly open, and tinkling music vibrates through the air. if allah only is remembered in the day, night seems to exclude that divinity from every thought; while eblis is apparently enthroned with all the orgies of his dominions. exhausted nature at length compels the laboring classes to seek their couches, while the more fortunate pashas and efendis, beguile the remaining hours till morn, with continued festivities and the exchange of social visits. just before daybreak, the drum resounds through the streets of the metropolis, when the faithful, without any reluctance, arise from their slumbers to avail themselves of their last chance of regaling their appetites and fortifying their corporeal frames against the sufferings of the next fourteen consecutive hours. the morning gun, now booming upon the still air, re-echoed from hill to hill, proclaims the dawn of another day, of self mortification at the "gate of heaven." chapter vi. pilgrimage to mecca. how true the observation that the most helpless of all creatures is man, born of a woman, who cometh forth like the tender bud of a delicate and fading flower. the ever-living soul embarks on the vast ocean of life, in so frail and delicate a tenement, that there is no semblance of strength to resist the angry waves that continually dash against the tempest-tossed and quivering fabric. but it outrides the storm of three score years and ten, until it is engulfed in the maelstrom and eddying circles of the river of death. how vast, how exquisite are the sensibilities of man, whose first emotions of pleasure and pain, are the alphabet of humanity. the pleasure felt by a sentient being, creates the first ideas of good, while on the other hand the sensation of pain is synonymous with evil. as we awake into existence, each passing moment seems to develop new desires; our grasping souls and bodily wants are constantly re-echoing each other's cravings; unsatisfied human nature is ever on the alert, crying, give, give. this restless search for good, pleasure, or happiness, leads its victims astray, and thus is created the preponderance of evil; for such hot and eager haste stays not to discriminate. the fatal apple seemed so good and so much to be desired to the mother of all living, that she took, and ate; but when she had eaten her eyes were opened. thus by such efforts to secure the good, the limit is overstepped, and suffering and sorrow entailed. still, none enjoy, and none suffer in the same degree; innumerable have been the specimens of nature's handiwork, yet never were any two individuals alike in their natural or intellectual structure. there is a wonderful connection between the physical and the moral in our curious composition; and the latter is so much modified by the former, that the variety of temperaments and dispositions may be attributed to the reciprocal influences of these two constituents of our being. the origin of good and evil is then embodied in our own hearts, in the structure of the human frame, in our natural susceptibilities to pleasure and pain. the individuality of pleasure and pain creates an approving and disapproving principle in every human frame, and each man is pleased with himself, when he enjoys a personal benefit from good or pleasure, and displeased when he suffers from the consequences of pain or evil. the lesson is soon learned that the evil might have been avoided, and conscience raises her silent testimony in the bosom. apart from our own sensations, there seems to be a superstitious principle innate in the human breast, a deference to a supreme good, which as the ruler and creator of the universe, holds all created things in awe, and to whom the conscience or self-approving and self-condemning principle pays all deference. this principle has existed under every form of humanity, in every variety of nation and blood, and has been educated, and developed by different circumstances. thus are derived all religions, and the fear of retribution for transgressing the bounds which conscience claims for the real good, and its essence the supreme creator, has led men to various acts of atonement or self-recommendation. the mind of man instinctively looked from "nature up to nature's god," and sought an embodiment for the divine essence, as there was for the human. the earliest semblance of divinity was displayed in the sun, moon, and stars. the glorious orb of day, the great source of light and heat, the vivifier of all creation, whose genial rays warming the bosom of the mother earth, caused the tender grass to spring forth, and every herb yielding fruit, to give its increase for the sustenance of animal life, the great luminary of the vast universe, so beautiful to gaze upon, and so powerful in its sway over the world alotted to man for a dwelling-place, seemed as if placed in the heavens for the especial adoration of all created things. the gentle moon with silver sheen, and softer radiance was fitting bride for the all glorious and omnipotent god of day. and the sparkling stars, like so many distant portals to the dominions of divine effulgence, emitting each a ray of the internal brightness, seemed one and all shrines of holy devotion. such was the revelation of nature; and no wonder that the innate impulse to revere and worship the author of the universe, was kindled into a fire of enthusiasm by the scintillations of the starry world. not content with the semblance of the creator in his works, the ever-working mind of man sought an object more tangible--and thus, doubtless originated the idol worship of the ancients. then followed a succession of creeds and dogmas, rites and ceremonies, to which the superstitious principle was ever ready to yield obeisance. ambitious and designing men sought to embody in themselves the germs of sanctity and holiness--even did they add the sanction of intercourse with the gods; even did they awaken the silent marble into mysterious life, and utter oracles and decrees from the lifeless stone. thus was nurtured the superstitious feeling in the multitude, until the most absurd and revolting rites became the sole end, and aim of existence--until the simple hindoo, would, with a holy zeal, cast himself under the wheels of the ponderous car of juggernaut, and while his tortured body was crushed to atoms, rejoice with ecstatic faith in future felicity. the same principle of superstitious self-torment has existed in as great force under the christian dispensation. even kings and emperors have tried to stifle the voice of conscience by the most severe acts of penance and humiliation; and the humbler members of the human family have willingly suffered every variety of bodily anguish, which the most cunning devices of a wily and calculating priesthood could contrive, while from many and hidden motives, they have striven to produce an entire abnegation of self, and a renunciation of all worldly hopes in the sin-tormented hearts of their victims. wars were undertaken, territories were coveted, and a holy crusade was the pretext for taking possession of the city of jerusalem, the shrine of the holy sepulchre, and where crowds of pilgrims brought their offerings and laid them in the coffers of the sanctuary. the dangers which beset the pilgrims amid the scimitars of the barbarous tartars, was the pretext for all europe to rise in arms with the determination to conquer or die in their defence. a wild enthusiast, with haggard features--a body worn and wasted with fasting and holy vigils, and enveloped in coarse and dusty sackcloth, elevating the symbolic cross in his attenuated fingers, wanders from palace to palace, from house to house, from hut to hamlet, calling aloud for vengeance upon the followers of the crescent, who dared to molest the children of god in the performance of their sacred duties. as his naked feet, pierced by every flinty rock, leave their crimson stains in his track, so does the thirst for moslem blood burn and consume the vitals of the restless human throngs, who listen to his wild harangues. pope urban was ready to fan this flame, and the panting multitude were by his holy and supreme power absolved from the weight of all past offences as well as all those they should ever commit, if they would prosecute with zeal this holy war. the worst of sinners, robbers and assassins, over whose hardened hearts there still lingered the dying glow of the internal fire of conscience, or before whose sin-distempered vision ever flittered the phantoms of past transgressions, rejoiced to say avaunt for ever, to the ghosts of their departed crimes, and feel an assurance of no future retribution for their dark deeds of horror. a new field for rapine and adventure opened before them, and they rushed impetuously on to the combat. many, who had led a life of more retired wickedness and grown grey in sin were glad to seize a hope of salvation even on the borders of eternity, and tottered along with the vast concourse. rich and poor, young and old, with fervid zeal embraced the means of future happiness beyond the grave. and the vast territory through which these soldiers of the cross wended their way was whitened with the bones of the self sacrificed. even after the great champion godfrey de bouillon, had gained the prize, and enjoyed a regal rank of one short year's duration, he had to surrender his earthly throne to his holiness at rome, and content himself like his followers with the hopes of a kingdom in the unseen world. vain would be the effort to count the victims of religious enthusiasm; of the attempts to appease the great unseen essence of human life; to propitiate the favor of that power, which, as it has called into being, can also summon his creatures from their earthly tenements, and dispose of their spirits, as seemeth best to his sovereign will. but holy wars, and sin-atoning pilgrimages, are not confined to the followers of the cross. wherever the cresent glitters on the dome, or the muezzin proclaims the ezan from the pointed minaré; wherever throughout the vast dominions of the mussulmans, resounds the cry allah ikber! allah ikber! are the countless votaries of the religion of mohammed, ready to arise from their peaceful homes, and perform the sacred journey to the shrine of their faith, the holy temple at mecca. and year after year, do the pilgrims trace a wearisome way through desert plains and scorching heats, to the spot where they may roll off the burden of self-condemnation, and kiss the all-atoning stone, which has been the heirloom to mortality, since the foundation of the world. although throngs of mussulman pilgrims yearly visit the holy city of mecca, but few europeans have left the impress of their footsteps upon its soil. what millions of human beings, nothing intimidated by deserts, mountains, and all sorts of hardships, have paid their devotions to this shrine! the great have visited it with pomp, and all its train of luxury and display; the grasping spirit of trade, has summoned merchants from all parts of the east. the learned and wise, of times that were, and times that are, have on the same occasion, collecting the productions of genius, sought a mart for literature and renown. sultanas, and ladies of high and noble rank, have changed their silken couches for wandering homes through the desert. old age has tottered thither staff in hand, and poverty has never failed to swell the concourse with its numberless train. the vast multitude, hundreds of thousands of every rank and profession, crying "la illah! il-allah! mohammed ressoul ullah!" every year people the silent wastes of sand with the buzz of human voices, as they toil along their weary way to the holy city of mecca. every mohammedan is enjoined to perform this pilgrimage, or if unable to go, to send a proxy, or an offering. "verily, the first house appointed unto men to worship in, was that which is in mecca, blessed, and a direction to all creatures." for there was the kubla, or point to which they were to turn their faces in prayer. "and proclaim unto the people a solemn pilgrimage; let them come unto thee on foot, and on every lean camel, arriving from every distant road; that they may be witnesses of the advantages which accrue to them from the visiting this holy place, and may commemorate the name of god, on the appointed days, in gratitude for the brute cattle which he hath bestowed on them." according to the traditions of the arabs, the city of mecca has been the place of religious veneration, from the earliest times. near this city, on a mountain, adam is said to have met his wife eve, two hundred years after the expulsion from paradise. here when abraham was ready to sacrifice his son ishmael (not isaac), the identical ram, which had been offered by abel many years before, was substituted in his place, sent expressly from paradise. here also, in the days of idolatry, was a temple dedicated to saturn, now the holy temple of mecca. so that mohammed found this place already consecrated by sacred and ancient associations. mecca, the birth-place, and medina, the tomb of the prophet, are situated near each other; and not far from the coast of the red sea. mecca is in a valley surrounded by barren hills, which produce nothing but the stones of which the houses are constructed. water, so essential to life, and most especially to all mussulmans, is only supplied by rain which is collected in cisterns; no streams flowing from the adjacent mountains. doubtless, the exceeding value all mohammedans attach to the pure element, is owing to its scarcity in these regions, where their religion was promulgated, and the koran revealed from heaven. their paradise is represented as abounding in fountains. there is "the water of keafeeree, or camphor," a fountain at which the people of god shall drink, so likened from the aromatic freshness of this gum, and its snowy whiteness. the waters of zengefeel or ginger, and the fountain of zelzebil, whose streams glide softly down the throat; and the fountain of taz-nim, which flows from the highest regions of paradise, and whereof those shall drink who approach the divine presence. notwithstanding the barrenness of the soil and the unfavorable situation of the city of mecca, the wealth of its inhabitants is very great. arabia felix, truly happy in comparison to the barren and desert tracts by which she is surrounded, where the gentle zephyrs are perfumed and laden with aromatic odors, whose villages and towns are crowned with plenty, and adorned with gardens of delight, and trees bearing all kinds of fruit, "araby the blest" pours her treasures into this holy city. her gums and spices, olibanum, or frankincense, myrrh of many kinds, balsams, sugar canes, cocoa nuts, and the fragrant berry from mocha. nature rejoices in a perpetual spring, in this genial clime which neither chills nor scorches her spicy products. in mecca, congregate a vast crowd of mussulmans with their merchandise from all quarters of the east, so that the inducement, held out by the prophet, that "they may be witnesses of the advantages which accrue from visiting this holy place," has no little power on the calculations of the enterprising, while a misguided religious zeal sways the multitude. the holy temple of mecca has been under the successive patronage of the caliphs, the sultans of egypt and of turkey, until by the constant acquisition of wealth, it has attained its present splendid magnificence. no unbeliever can profane the sacred precincts with the dust of his feet, nor approach within gun shot of the consecrated portico, during the season of the visitation of the pilgrims. nor must the faithful defile their sinless bodies by any contact with the unsanctified flesh and blood of the infidel jews and christians. "o true believers, verily the idolaters are unclean; let them not therefore come near unto the holy temple after this year. "and if ye fear want, by the cutting off trade, and communication with them, god will enrich you of his abundance, if he pleaseth; for god is knowing and wise." "it is not fitting that the idolaters should visit the temples of god, being witnesses against their own souls of their infidelity." considering the resources which have contributed to construct and adorn this shrine of the mohammedan faith, the great wealth of many nations, and the centuries which have successively rolled on, each adding the superstitious offerings of religious votaries, it is no wonder that it is magnificent to behold. the model from paradise, the rebuilding by abram, and its preservation for so many years. the whole city of mecca is considered holy ground but the objects of special adoration are inclosed within a magnificent colonnade, the foundation of which was laid by the second caliph omer, to prevent intrusion upon the sanctum sanctorum. the space inclosed by this portico is about seven statium. the foundations are broad and lofty, and approached by an extended flight of marble steps, on both sides, without and within. no less than four hundred and eighty-four columns support an arched entablature, which is crowned by a succession of domes, surmounted by glittering crescents. the colonnade is quadrangular, and in the four corners are minarés, raising their tapering spires to heaven, in emblem of the ascending orisons of the faithful, and from whose gilded galleries the sacred imams have, since unnumbered suns have risen and set, proclaimed the hours of adoration. no gloomy darkness ever enshrouds this structure; for when day withdraws its more glaring brightness, innumerable lamps cast their fitful light around the pillars. what tales could these marble columns whisper of human hopes, and even holier aspirations; of the wicked schemes of intriguing imams, as with sacerdotal robes and turbans of emerald hue, they traced their cautious way from pillar to pillar, and received and blessed the vast concourse of souls, borne down with the ills and sins of humanity. how honeyed their benedictions as they lay their gilded palms on the humble suppliant, who would gladly bestow all his earthly treasures for a sure hope of heaven where his joys would be enduring. poor weak mortals! tools of each other, and victims of the calculating; the deceiver and deceived, on the same journey, on the same race course, where the goal is eternity! beneath these domes, and overshadowed by these tall minarés, the poet and the scholar have met to repeat the traditions and romances so peculiar to the glowing imaginations of the oriental world, and to vie with each other for literary fame; the astrologer and diviner, no doubt the very genii and fairies of arabian myth, have mingled in the throng. with what emotion have the deluded victims of superstition and remorse prostrated themselves upon the hallowed ground, and with what ecstatic faith in the rewards of their holy pilgrimage, have the only true believers kissed the dust of the consecrated earth. within this beautiful portico, there is a vast space, in the middle of which stands the caaba itself. after adam was driven from paradise, he begged the almighty to allow him to erect a beit-el-maamur, or house of god, similar to the one he had seen there. therefore the caaba was let down to mecca, directly under the heavenly temple. this was rebuilt after the deluge by abram, or as some say, again descended from the celestial realms, where it had been preserved, and has been in the possession of the ishmaelites, or arabs, ever since. the caaba, or house of god, is a square building of stone, 24 cubits long, 23 broad and 27 high. it is nearly surrounded by a semicircular colonnade, at the base of which is a low balustrade. bars of silver, from which lamps are suspended, connect the pillars at the top. how mystic and beautiful are the glimmerings of these lights, as they glisten on the dark night, in their silver lamps, casting uncertain shadows around the marble columns--their dubious shining conjuring up the shades of the prophet and his honored descendants, all arrayed in jealous and sacred green to watch the devotions of the multitude, as they surround the shrine. the outside of the caaba is covered with rich black damask, which is renewed every year. the holy imams, pitying the true and faithful, and wishing to ward off from them the dangers of sudden death, and the thousand other casualties of life, bestow a small portion of the covering of this house of god, which has imbibed the sanctity of three hundred and sixty-five days' duration, and, therewith, the power to avert all such evils. a small amount of worldly wealth is sufficient to touch the heart of the holy emir, who grants this precious charm, which, resting in the bosom of its happy possessor, yields to him a sweet repose from the anticipation of sudden trials which befall the less fortunate inheritors of human life. outside of this black damask is a band of gold which surrounds the caaba, and whose lustre is undimmed by time, for it is renewed every year by the sultan of turkey. the very rain which flows from the roof of this edifice, partakes of its sanctity, and is conducted therefrom by a spout of solid gold, whence it trickles down on the tomb of ishmael, the head and founder of the arab race. near the caaba is the stone on which the patriarch abraham stood, when he was rebuilding the holy temple; and even his very foot-prints are to be seen on the solid piece of rock, leaving no shadow of doubt as to its identity. this ancient architect, unwilling to deface the walls by a scaffolding, when they were beyond his reach, stood upon this stone, which chance threw in his way; and, wonderful interposition of allah! the stone raised him when necessary, let him down again, and transported him around his precious work, until the whole was finished! what a treasure to architecture, more worthy of fame than the undiscovered stone of the philosopher; how carefully to be watched and guarded from the profanations of unbelieving house-builders for all time to come. upon the southeast corner of the caaba is the black stone set in silver, which was dropped down from paradise. like other gems of the heavenly sphere, it was originally white and shining--but alas! its brightness is dimmed, and even changed to perfect blackness, by its contact with human sin. for ever since its removal to this world, it has been polluted by the touch of mortals, and the contact of their sinful lips. the interior of the caaba is approached by a silver door, about the height of a man from the ground, to which they ascend by movable steps. there is a single room hung with red and green embroidered damask, and the roof is supported by four pillars eight feet square, made of aloes wood. a sweet perfume pervades this apartment, which has been emitted from these pillars ever since mohammed was born in the holy city of medina, and silver lamps are suspended, which burn night and day. near the caaba are small chapels for the imams of the different mohammedan sects, who severally bestow their blessings upon the pilgrims. the agonized mother of ishmael, wandering in the wilderness, her scanty bottle of water quite empty, having cast her helpless infant under the shrubs, and retreated that she might not see him die, sat at a distance and lifted up her voice and wept. the dying moans of the infant reached the ears of the angel of god, who, to save the father of a great nation, caused the well-spring of water to gush forth from its recesses in the bowels of the earth. as the ministering angel wiped the tears from the eyes of the disconsolate mother, she spied the crystal water, and hastened to administer to the fainting child. this same well, called the well of zem-zem, is near the holy house of prayer, and the thirsty pilgrims every year quaff its venerated waters and carry some of it to all parts of the mohammedan dominions. such being the holy places, no wonder that every mussulman, whether commanded or not, should desire to visit these sacred relics of antiquity. and were it not forbidden, doubtless the unbelievers also would gladly undertake the same pilgrimage to witness the miraculous preservation of objects which are, some of them, incorporated with their own faith. four caravans meet in the city of mecca, in the month zil-hidjay, or the month of pilgrimage, every year--one from cairo, one from constantinople, a third from the barbary states, and a fourth from india. the egyptian caravan waits for the arrival of the one from constantinople at redowa near the holy cities. as the sultan of turkey holds the possession of the holy cities in his own territories, he is bound to send certain offerings to the shrine, which are the gold band and black damask covering for the caaba, with a large sum of money to be distributed among the priests at mecca. a certain kind of money is expressly coined at the royal mint for the pilgrimage, called the caaba money. it is in gold pieces, and every one who goes to mecca must provide himself with this circulating medium. the wants of the numerous poor pilgrims are provided for in part, by an appeal to the superstitions of the populace. a model of the temple at mecca is paraded through the streets followed by a crowd of the zealous chanting hosannas in arabic, accompanied by the music of a drum of antique contrivance. but few can withhold a tribute. the miser opens his hoards, and the widow adds her slender mite; the grandee and the slave, one and all, gladly answer the appeal of their fellows, when under a banner of such sacred veneration, and for a cause so laudable as a pilgrimage to the holy shrine of their faith. rich and poor are busily employed in preparations. the dervish in his humble robes, needs no costly array. his garb of sanctity, and the renunciation of all the trappings of wealth, open the purses of the more gaily apparelled; and often the rags of a mendicant conceal a full purse, much better filled perhaps, than his, who has spent his all on costly embroideries and richly caparisoned steeds. the pasha and the efendi arrange their financial affairs, taking care to carry costly offerings, and largesse, wherewith to impress the multitude with their own greatness. the ladies of the harems, in like manner, collect their jewels, their perfumes, in a word gifts of all things esteemed rare and precious, that they may not go empty-handed to the holy temple. the merchants pack up their silks and rich stuffs of all sorts, and prepare for edification both temporal and spiritual. considering the immense throng of pilgrims, what must be the din of preparation throughout the ottoman dominion? constantinople, its sultan, its treasury, its inhabitants high and low, its ladies, its saints and beggars--even the lisping children are whispering, god is great, mohammed is his apostle, and the caaba is the house of god. the egyptian viceroy is assembling his horseman and his camels at berket el hadge; the maghrubees, or barbaresques, are sharpening their scimitars, and preparing as if for war. india's wealth, her pearls, shawls, and rubies, and stately elephants, are slowly wending their way to the shores of the persian gulf, where at al katif, on the arabian side, the old sheikh is tarrying with his herds of camels, to sell or hire them for the passage of the desert. the holy mecca is thus, for several months at least, the theme of all classes of mohammedans. at length the day arrives to begin the journey so fraught with blessings temporal and spiritual. the conductor of the constantinople caravan, called the surré emminee, or the trustee of the pilgrimage, proceeds to the palace, to receive his commission from the sultan; and to him are consigned all the treasures destined for mecca. all hopes of worldly aggrandizement are henceforth renounced by this dignitary; for having once imbibed the holy atmosphere of mecca, his future aspirations are supposed to be only heavenward. he therefore, upon his return, generally retires to damascus, where, nearer to the shrine, and in a clime more genial for holiness, he awaits his translation into that paradise, of which his earthly honors are the type and foretaste. quitting the august presence of the "thrice happy lord of the refulgent mecca," the surré emminee goes to the porte, where he takes leave of his former colleagues in temporal greatness, and thence to the gate of the sheikh-ul-islam, who grants his blessing on the enterprise. the pilgrims and others collect about him, and they proceed to bahchai capusoo, where a steamer is waiting to transport them over to scutari, in asia. there, all along the route, are multitudes of people waiting to see the procession. the insignia of the surré emminee are borne before him; two long poles, to which the expressive horse-tails are attached, and the pasha of two tails follows on a beautiful arabian charger. the treasures destined for mecca succeed on a train of camels, all bedecked with ribbons and spangles. but this world's grandeurs are bestowed unequally even to these patient animals; for there is one of their number who outshines all his fellows. a venerable camel is covered with trappings enriched with precious stones of rare and sparkling lustre, for on his back he carries the sacred koran extravagantly bound, and enclosed in a golden box set in brilliants; the gift of the sultan to the temple. happy is this distinguished animal, and his companions also, if they survive the pilgrimage and return; for, like the surré emminee, they are exempt from all future toil in this work-day world; and when death at last claims them for his prey, they enjoy the honors of a burial, where no rude dogs or vultures can disturb their remains. the validé sultan, or the mother of the sultan, reclines in her tahtravan, a sort of elongated sedan chair, which is suspended on long poles between two camels and magnificent in proportion to the high rank of its occupant. mussulman women and children follow, in huge panniers, suspended on the sides of camels, horses, and donkeys. indeed, the good fathers and husbands of the osmanlis are ever anxious to ensure to the female portion of their families high places in the celestial regions; and they are generally accompanied by their harems. "it is incumbent on him whose family shall not be present at the holy temple, to fast three days in the pilgrimage, and seven when he is returned; they shall be ten days complete." and the same period of fasting is enjoined upon him "who findeth not anything to offer" at the shrine. mohammed himself set an example in this respect; for when he encompassed the caaba, he was accompanied by his family, and his wife kadijah, who, with his daughter fatima, were two of the four women whom he pronounced to have attained a state of perfection on this side of the grave. trains of servants, led horses and camels, swell the concourse; and the whole is protected by a body of cavalry. about six miles from scutari, there is a fountain which bears the name of iraluk cheshmaysee, or the fountain of separation. thus far a number of friends and relations have accompanied the pilgrims; but, as in the journey of life, none can carry their loved ones with them into the celestial regions, so these travellers who are on an emblematic pilgrimage must now sunder strong ties, and loosen their hearts from earthly affections. fountain of parting! how are thy streams now accumulating, as the pearly drops of human woe trickle in among thy waters; how many days must pass ere those waters regain their crystal brightness, now all turbid with the crimson gushings of the heart blood of fathers, mothers, wives, husbands, and children! sadly they part: some turn their faces homeward with bitter sighs, while the pilgrims pursue their course, every advancing step widening the distance, till their clouded eyes can discern no further traces of the severed. even as faith reveals to the dying the glory of a celestial world, and reconciles the most trembling to a passage from the dim scenes of earth; so does superstition foreshadowing the hour of mortal dissolution, display an earthly temple as the vestibule to the heavenly. with eager steps, the pilgrims now press onwards, till they reach the most ancient and beautiful city of damascus; where they halt for the caravans from bagdad, aleppo, and the neighboring towns. time-worn associations flit about this monument of the wealth of the earliest founders of cities, after the universal deluge. as the descendants of the great survivor of the wreck of the antediluvian world sought out a portion of the wide expanse of uninhabited, and as yet uncultivated earth, this lovely valley of nature's own handiwork seemed to invite their tarrying, as it lay in calm repose, all fresh and verdant from the great waste of waters. perhaps they discovered the ruins of a great city, the remnants of ancestral wealth; or the relics of the luxury and degeneracy which brought about the awful destruction of the victims of the flood. rapidly rose the proud city, and was famed even at the time of the first battle of which there is any record, of the five kings against four, the great chedorlaomar and the kings of sodom and gomorrah, when the patriarch abram went to rescue his nephew lot, who had been taken captive. it was the birth-place, too, of eliezer, the steward of abram, who must have been a man of superior attainments, as he had the care of all his master's possessions, and even of the betrothal of his beloved son isaac. this ancient capital of syria did not escape the enthusiasm of moslem conquest, and the great saracen generals, abu-obeidah and khaled, took possession of the famous city, after a slaughter of 50,000 infidels, during the reign of abubekir, the successor of mohammed, a. d. 633. damascus now became the capital of the ottoman dominions, and their pride and glory; for they boast evvely sham, akhery sham, or, that as they had their beginning in sham or damascus, so there also, they will have their end. so precious do they esteem this city, that it is styled the pearl surrounded by diamonds, and the gate of the most holy mecca. here, then, at the most beautiful gate, do the pilgrims to the sacred shrine delight to repose awhile, their senses ravished with the loveliest enchantments of nature. their eager vision extends over vast plains of richly waving foliage, mingling with its emerald hues, the brilliant tints of the citron, pomegranate, and fig. sweet odors of aromatic freshness pervade the balmy air, while luscious and juicy fruits revive their thirsty senses. over this vast and exquisite prospect, tower tall minarés, and graceful domes with glittering crescents, proclaiming as far as the eye can reach, the sway of mohammed ressoul ullah. but there is yet a weary way to the shrine, and the zealous throng, now swelled to a vast multitude, renew their journey. if the weather is very oppressive, they encamp in the day-time, and proceed by the light of innumerable torches at night. how mysterious the pageant, stretching its long train over the barren and trackless sands. the camels, with stealthy step, waving their long necks slowly and majestically; now and then the arabian coursers neighing in wearied restlessness, break the silence. then a voice chanting a hymn of praise, and anon, a shout or chorus from the multitude. now all is still, and fitful shadows glide along side by side with the wanderers, as the bright jewels on the camels glisten in the torch-light. the caravan has passed, leaving in its track many palpitating forms, panting on the sands for that breath of life, which is rapidly exhaling from their bodies. so weary a way--sometimes no water to quench the thirst, which rages in proportion to the scarcity of its antidote; fatigue adding its prostrating effects day by day, no wonder that many of the way-worn pilgrims are transferred to the heavenly temple, without a sight of the earthly. the caravan from cairo is also moving onwards, made up of a motley multitude, headed by the emir hadgee, who is appointed by the pasha of cairo, and receives great emoluments from his office. every pilgrim pays him a certain sum for the enregistering of his name and property, and the possessions of all those who die on the road, are also his perquisites. he is the governor of the pilgrimage, and is judge and jury in all matters of dispute. the egyptians always carry with them the tomb of hassan, and accompanied by cavalry and artillery, they proceed as far as redowa, near medina, where they are to meet the constantinople caravan. about two days' journey from cairo, they arrive at a place called miz-haara, the ancient marah of the israelites, where, when the people murmured at the bitterness of the waters, moses cast a tree into them, and they became sweet, of surpassing sweetness to all thirsty pilgrims. thus they travel over the same wilderness as their ancient predecessors, encamping in the very spots selected by moses for the tents of the chosen people of god. after these caravans meet, they proceed, a vast multitude, to a village about sixty miles from mecca, where is abram's mountain, on which he erected the altar to sacrifice his son. on the top of this hill is a mosque, where an old sheikh resides, who, as the pilgrims halt, stands on the brow of the hill, and delivers an address to them on the importance of the duty they are performing, reminding them also of the blessings in store for all zealous mussulmans. to what an immense audience does this lonely old man once a year proclaim the tenets of the koran, and how eagerly do their thirsty souls quaff the water of everlasting life as he dispenses it. now the emir hadgee conducts the pilgrims one by one to the feet of the sheikh, as he stands in the mosque on the top of the hill, rabiie. as they enter one door and pass out at the other in rapid succession, each one is touched by the divining rod in the hands of the old sheikh, and the burden of all their past transgressions rolls from their backs, as he pronounces the words, "may sin here leave thee." lightened from the pressure of sin in every form, they run swiftly down the hill, and bathing their hands and faces in a stream which flows below, they become renewed, men, women, and children; and prepared to gaze upon the holy city of mecca, which is not far distant. now turning their faces to the shrine, the true believers hasten on their way; sometimes halting at the tomb of eve, which is at giddeh, the port of mecca. this illustrious and ancient mother of the human race must have been a dame of fair proportions; for her grave measures, from the head to the foot stone, no less than twenty-five yards, or seventy-five english feet. if she was of such exceeding stature, what must have been the dimensions of our great parent adam, or what lofty personages must have been the giants of those days. after travelling about three days longer, the domes of the holy temple are descried in the distance; when the multitude with mad delight prostrate themselves on the ground, and kissing the earth three times, proclaim with tremendous clamor, la illah! ill lallah! mohammed ressoul ullah! there is no other god but god! mohammed the apostle of god! the artillery is now fired to announce the arrival of the caravans to the inhabitants of mecca, who, headed by the shereef of the city and all the imams, immediately proceed to meet the pilgrims, and conduct them within the sacred precincts. those who possess but scanty means, encamp without the city, and others are accommodated at khans, which are very numerous. the next thing is to visit the bath, and thus purify themselves for the ceremonies at the temple--"i will wash my hands in innocency, so will i compass thine altar, o lord." having invested themselves in the ehram, or covering of crimson woollen shag, which is always wrapped around the person on this occasion, they proceed to the caaba. mohammed having performed these same ceremonies, his followers have ever since imitated his example. immediately after the prophet took possession of the city of mecca, he proceeded to the caaba. there he stood upon the roof of the house of prayer, and proclaimed the first ezan, or call to prayer, at noon-day. he then commenced his adorations at the shrine, by first kissing the black stone in the corner, near the door of the caaba, then he proceeded to compass the building seven times, and then again kissed the sin-atoning stone. when the caaba was let down from heaven to adam, he requested that it might be so placed that he could compass it as he had seen the angels do. ever since the creation, the number seven has had a mystic signification, and its sacred meaning is demonstrated in these devotions of the faithful. mohammed then proclaimed to the people from mount arafat, the manner in which they were to perform the ceremonies at the temple, and went to the valley of mina, where he threw seven stones at the devil, every time pronouncing the words, allah ikbér! allah ikbér! god almighty! god omnipotent, as did adam and abraham, when the great adversary interrupted their devotions. the enemies of the prophet account for the accumulation of stones in this valley by the following story. it is well known that mohammed was assisted in the preparation of the koran, by an armenian monk, by name serkiss. when their work was completed, the prophet wished to attest it by a miracle. he accordingly persuaded serkiss to descend into a deep well, while he called all the multitude to assemble. holding a blank book in his hand, he declared that if the koran was indeed revealed from heaven, he would drop this blank-book into the well, and allah would send it up all written and inscribed. the book descended, and serkiss sent up the one he had already prepared. "now," said mohammed, "let each man cast a stone into the well, which will be a monument to the world." whereupon every one of the great concourse cast a stone, and thus effectually prevented serkiss from appearing to contradict the miracle. ever since that time, the pilgrims have helped to accumulate these stones, until a vast monument, indeed, has been erected. the prophet now offered the sacrifice of sixty-three camels, according to the years of his own life, shaved his head, and having run seven times between the two hills safa and merwa, in imitation of hagar searching for water, he completed the holy ceremonies. according to this model have the pilgrims continued, ever since his time, the performance of these superstitious devotions. the holy duties of the shrine being over, after a few worldly cares are disposed of, the now self-satisfied travellers turn their footsteps homewards. purified, and set apart, henceforth the chosen of allah, fearless of all danger, as if within the shadow of the eternal world, nothing intimidates the followers of the prophet, as with the greatest self-complacency they anticipate the rest of their sojourn in this lower world. many have sacrificed all their earthly possessions, but are they not sure of the imperishable riches of paradise. with eager fondness, they embrace once again friends and relations, while the odor of sanctity exhales from their sacred persons. with what panting bosoms and restless vision do the friends search among the remnant returned from the wanderings, for dear and familiar faces; and human wailings rend the air, as they are told that brother, sister, and husband, lie whitening on the sand, long ere this the prey of the vulture. the happy father clasps to his breast his precious offspring, and with sweet complacency, ties around its neck a morsel the holy covering of the caaba, so sure the charm, and obtained at such infinite perils. the pilgrims are surrounded, and with jealous caution they bestow a few drops of the water of the holy well zem-zem, which glides down the throats of the faithful like the oily fountains of paradise. the weary camels even linger out their lives in luxurious idleness, retired from oppressive service, with an air of unconscious sanctity and repose. henceforward, the glorious title of hadgee, belongs to the returned pilgrim; no razor profanes the beard, and the very door of the house, by its hue of the prophet's robe, the sacred green, proclaims the rank and holiness of its master. the hadgee, with long and solemn face, never wearies of recounting his wonderful adventures, portraying with ecstasy, the splendors of the shrine, detailing with holy rapture the ceremonies and devotions, until the flame of superstitious zeal is enkindled in every bosom, and their spirits yearn for the sweet sanctity and all-atoning atmosphere of the most refulgent mecca--and many vows are made that in the coming year, their footsteps shall surely be thitherward. such, then, are the illusions which beguile life's wearisome journey to the followers of mohammed; such the stepping-stones to their future elysium. thus the tortures of conscience are eased, and thus does superstition stand fully armed at the portals of the soul. few, indeed, are the members of the great human family, who dare to combat this enemy to moral greatness; and how small the number of those, who renounce her sway. chained down to creeds and dogmas, the mind of man seldom soars above the atmosphere of human inventions, but relyingly lingers in the leading strings of bigotry, in one form or another. thus is constituted the practice of the mohammedan religion, viz., ablutions, prayers, alms, fasting, and the pilgrimage to mecca, which are denominated farz, or obligatory. there are, however, many other traditional observances termed sünnet, which as the turks are sünnees or traditionists, they have incorporated with their religious duties, such as circumcision, and many other rites. these rites, whose observance is only optional, are, however, performed with as much zeal and ceremony as those required by the koran. although the ceremony of circumcision is not alluded to in the koran, and therefore not indispensable, yet it is a custom generally observed, and is performed when the child is able to pronounce the formula of faith "la illah, ill allah, mohammed ressoul ullah," or is about the age of seven years. this is a great festival, and when the sultan's children, or those of any of the grandees, are the neophytes, a general invitation is extended to other candidates. music, dancing, and feasting occupy the minds and distract the thoughts of the numerous company, young and old, during the week devoted to this ceremony. chapter vii. principles of the turkish government. a people descended from nomadic tribes, and, until very recently, severed from foreign intercourse, would naturally retain its simple and national type. besides, the peculiar bond of an exclusive faith, would still more tend to the preservation of ancient and characteristic usages. thus the osmanlis have, with hitherto but few deviations, preserved their identity as an eminently patriarchal nation. as the son recognized the parent to be the governor and controller of his career, the fountain of experience and wisdom, and rendered to him a willing and natural obedience; so the people, needing such a fatherly care and control, were ready to invest one of their number with this authority. every system has its centre. the sun rules in the heavens--and the great mass of humanity seek a centre, around which to rally. the wonderful magnetism of mortal emotion tends to a common point, as surely as the needle to the pole. thus some species of monarchy, whether elective or hereditary, seems inevitable to a multitude of beings, cast in human mould. tribes were instituted in early times, each with its patriarch or petty monarch; and when, for mutual strength or by conquest, these various tribes were combined, the monarch, with increasing subjects, became more powerful and distinguished. when the wandering tartars embraced islamism, their chief becoming the successor to the caliphate, was not only their temporal, but spiritual head. these two elements of power, church and state, endowed the monarch with unlimited sway, beyond whom there could be no appeal. the simple patriarch now becomes not only the father of his people, but the representative of allah; the sole controller of life and death, property and religion. years, even centuries, roll on, the scimitar gains nation after nation, fertile territories and treasures to the followers of the crescent, and innumerable multitudes swarm around the standard. the padi-shah, or ruler of this vast concourse of men, the absolute owner of the domain far and wide, now rejoices in the adulations of his superstitious subjects who acknowledge him as the "king of kings, and lord of lords; ruler of the east and west, and of all parts of the world; prince of the holy and chaste city of jerusalem; shining with the brightness of god. thrice happy lord of the refulgent mecca. tamer of infidels, and the scourger of the unbelieving race of christian vassals. lord of the white (mediterranean), and the black seas. the most mighty and invincible sultan, who has power from god to rule all people with a bridle." many other similar titles are bestowed upon him, which, though they may seem somewhat bombastic, or even ridiculous, in these days of equality and freedom, yet are not unparalleled in some of the more civilized realms of modern europe; nor without their legitimate influences upon the subjects of this potentate. in order to illustrate the wonderful effect which the assumption of such high-sounding appellatives has upon the general mass of the people, i will relate an incident which happened to myself:-during a recent sail on the bosphorus in a cayik, and immediately after the arrival of the allied fleets, i thought to amuse myself with some political chit-chat with my boatman. as i was remarking about the assistance of the allies, the simple-minded, but thorough mussulman, was very prompt in solving the mystery of this unheard-of political combination; why should two sets of giavours combine with the true believers, against a third? the reason seemed plain enough to him. the french giavours had a new king, and since the padi-shah is the "prince of princes, and lord of lords," in order to merit at his hands the consummation of royalty, they had come to fight for him, bringing along england to intercede for them. chapter viii. the administrative government. although the power and authority of the sultan is unlimited, and his sway entirely arbitrary, the disposal of affairs is naturally consigned to various officers. the two principal of these are the grand vezir, and the sheikh-ul-islam. the grand vezir was formerly called lala, or tutor, because he was the sole adviser to his majesty, and as he exercised the civil functions of the executive, he was styled "vekili-mutlah," or vicar absolute. he therefore enjoyed all the rights and immunities of his imperial master--to the entire control of property and life itself. he used to head the army in time of war; make all appointments to office; give audiences to the foreign ambassadors, receive and answer their memorials; and he only, of all the ministers of the realm, had free access to the royal presence. as he was amenable to no tribunal, his only forfeit being his own head, and his worldly possessions, it was his policy to render the person of the sultan inapproachable--between whom and his people, a mystic veil seemed ever to depend. by degrees, the monarch, who should have been the father of his people, removed from all intercourse with his subjects, became only the shrine of their superstitious devotions, the deity of their worship, the proxy of allah; while the real administrator of the realm, was the selfish, ambitious, scheming, and blood-thirsty grand vezir. even on fridays, as his majesty appeared in public on his way to the mosque, he was so surrounded by pomp and royal pageantry, as to be almost invisible. but since the promulgation of the tanzimat or reformation, an entire change has been effected in the administrative department, and a substantial check imposed upon the grand vezir, whose former prerogatives and immunities have been much curtailed. there is now a council attached to each department, which deliberates upon the various measures proposed. a grand national council, established on a somewhat european system, called the medjlissi-wala, or senate, composed of the dignitaries and notables of the nation, and presided over by a reiss or chief of its own, controls the affairs of the nation in general. its duties are to prepare the laws; establish or revise the basis of the taxation; regulate the revenues and expenditure of the government; to draft the instructions for the governors of the provinces; to try all treasonable acts and crimes committed against the state; to correct the abuses of the functionaries; to attend to the complaints of citizens brought against the different agents or authorities; to draw up sentences for criminals, which are either maintained or modified by his majesty, etc. etc., there is another council called the medjlissi-khass, or special council, which, being composed of the ministers of the different departments, may be termed a cabinet, or privy council. the grand vezir, as prime minister, presides over this. these two councils together, constitute what is termed and generally known as the baabu-aali, or the sublime porte. baab is the arabic word for gate, or porte in french. ever since mordecai sat in the king's gate, and perhaps long before his time, all the places of public administration in the east, have been designated by this term. for instance, baabu-sheik-ul-islam, is the superior court; baabu-serasker, the war department, and in contradistinction to all the other courts or departments, the government of the ottoman empire is denominated the baabu-aali, or the supreme gate or court; a term of similar significance, with the court of st. james, the tuileries, or the government at washington. thus it will be perceived, that the original autocratic government has now been reduced into a form of bureaucracy. the vast empire of turkey, partaking of the territories of no less than three continents, is divided into thirty-seven ayalets or provinces; each ayalet being sub-divided into livas or counties; and each liva into kazas or townships. these provinces, counties, and townships, are respectively governed by valis, kaimakams, and müdirs. the governors, etc., of these provinces, formerly enjoyed in their respective domains the same absolute authority as the grand vezir, and answered with the same forfeiture of their heads and property for their misdemeanors. but of late years, the same check has also been put upon their powers, as in the central government, by the establishment of councils, &c. all the ministers and governors of provinces are now appointed by the sultan, and the secondary places are filled by the appointment of the grand vezir. when his majesty designs to elevate a person to the office of minister of the realm, one of the chamberlains of the palace proceeds to summon the individual to the royal presence, where he is invested in his new office by the bestowal of the nishani-müshir or the badge of rank in brilliants, which is suspended around the neck; and an iradé or edict is granted him by the sultan. he then proceeds with much pomp and ceremony to the porte, where he is immediately recognized, according to the royal commands. he is met at the foot of the stairway by the grand vezir in person, who bows to the edict presented to him by the chamberlain with as much reverence as if it were his royal master himself. holding the document over his head, the viceroy enters the grand council chamber, where he reads it in a loud voice, and the ceremony is concluded by an extempore prayer, offered by the mufty of the council--and the new minister is conducted to his gate, or his own department. when they are deposed from office, the royal chamberlain appears, demanding the nishan which is immediately relinquished. chapter ix. the policy of the government. the policy of the government has hitherto been centralization, that is, to draw the mass of the people from the frontiers to a common centre, in order the more readily to suppress any rebellion; and by depopulating the borders, to prevent the approach of foreign invasion. besides, even while consigning the inhabitants of the provinces to the arbitrary control of the governors, a certain degree of awe and ready submission might be inspired towards the central government, which could, at pleasure and option punish, with one fell blow, the very ruler who was regarded as omnipotent in his own territories. also, it was with ulterior designs, that such a degree of laxity was tolerated. the distant and provincial authorities, in grasping all within their reach, and oppressing the people under their control, were able to amass great possessions for themselves; but they were amenable to the supreme power, which availed itself of its prerogatives to judge and condemn, upon the slightest accusation, and to confiscate and appropriate the spoils, with the semblance of justice itself--as if avenging the wrongs of an injured population. notwithstanding, there was often an assumption of independence in many of the provincial authorities, who succeeded in maintaining the dignity of déré-beys or feudal barons, such as tchapan-oghlou, tepelene, and mehmed aali. the consequence has been, that as you receded from the seat of government over the vast tracts of territory, the very limited internal communications, combined with the independence and rapacity of the governors of the distant provinces, produced anarchy, misrule and misery, in frightful ratio. some amelioration has been attempted of late by the tanzimat or reformation, and the establishing of roads and post-offices, councils, &c.; but the spirit of centralization still pervades with all its legitimate evils. another equally pernicious error in their policy, was the idea that it was better to employ the heads and hands of the people in foreign wars, with the view to keep them constantly occupied, and to maintain a military ardor. although this system contributed vastly to the extension of the empire, yet sad experience has developed its injurious effects. for constant acquisitions so enlarged their dominions and inflated the soldiery, that the very sultan began to tremble on his throne, until the destruction of the janissaries became indispensable for the preservation of the empire. this famous military body was created in the reign of sultan mourad, the son and successor of orkhan; and it was notorious for many centuries, till they were at last destroyed by mahmoud, the father of the present sultan. the janissaries are so interwoven with the past and present history of turkey, that it does not seem amiss to give here a slight sketch of their origin and downfall. chapter x. history of the janissaries. the janissaries were first instituted for the protection of the throne and person of the sultan; the army being then composed of the victorious turkomans, who had become turbulent, and were ready to take the reins of government into their own hands. a new militia was consequently instituted by mourad, composed of young prisoners of war, who were brought up in the moslem faith: and, in contradistinction to the existing army, were denominated yeni-tcheri, or new soldiers. with the design of giving more solemnity to the new order, the founder resorted to the aid of religion, and they were blessed by a famous sheikh, hadji-bektash, [1] who extending his arms over the troops, invoked the blessing of allah, and predicted their future victories, pronouncing these words: "let them be called yeni-tcheries. may their countenance ever be bright! their hand victorious! their sword keen! may their spear always hang over the head of their enemies, and wheresoever they go, may they return with a white face!" their uniform consisted of loose trousers, and long, flowing robes, tucked up. their head-gear, when in full dress, was very peculiar. a round cap of grey felt, with a long piece of the same hanging behind, in commemoration of the loose sleeve of the saint, which was suspended over their heads when he extended his arms to bless their institution. they were armed with sabres, scimitars, pistols, yataghans, muskets, constituting, as it were, a peripatetic model arsenal. their mode of warfare was quite primitive; each fighting on his own responsibility. from their earliest years, these christian slaves snatched from the bosom of their families, were inured to all sorts of hardships, and to perfect resignation to the will of their superiors. they were diligently trained in the art of war, and every trace of their parents and native country being obliterated from their minds, their only aim was to promote the interest and glory of their lord and sultan, and they were, for many centuries, justly distinguished for the excellence of their discipline, and for their indomitable courage. but, owing to their constant successes, they at last began to consider themselves invincible, and by degrees becoming insolent, respected neither the laws nor even the sultan himself. they thus turned that power, which was originally the defence and glory of the country, to its ruin and destruction; and many were the sultans who fell victims to their audacity and rebellion. sultan selim iii., in his attempt to reform them, was sacrificed to their fury. they were, in reality, the ruling power in the country: dethroning sultans, and taking off the heads of ministers at their will. they were upheld in all their excesses by the people, from a dread of their vengeance, many of whom, from motives of personal safety, even enlisted as honorary members of their corps. for, even the assassin could find a secure asylum in their barracks, from which no power or authority could claim him. nothing was sacred in their estimation; families dared not to venture abroad without a janissary escort; and, on this account, the different foreign embassies were always accommodated with two or three of their number, which custom is still in vogue; though kavasses, or turkish police officers, have been substituted for the janissaries of former times. even the royal harem was not safe from them, and neither life nor property were secure from their depredations. besides their regular rations, their pay was at the rate of from one asper to twenty, according to their rank, per day. an asper was, at that time, equal to one cent of federal money. but they had various ways of increasing their personal revenues. they assumed a peculiar style of taxing the peaceable citizens, by carelessly tossing their handkerchiefs at them, with an intimation that their pockets needed replenishing, and none dared to return the handkerchief without a tribute tied in one of its corners. those who were stationed in the city as metropolitan guards, generally contrived to amass a quantity of mud before the guardhouse, which they would ask all the rayahs who passed by, either to sweep away, or contribute something for its removal. the day of their revolt was most memorable, and our own janissary boatman coolly put the number and mark of his regiment upon the street-door of our residence, as an intimation to his comrades that the house was already appropriated by one of the brotherhood. assassination was a matter of frequent occurrence in those days. the father of the writer once narrowly escaped with his life. he happened to be passing by a shop, where a janissary was examining a yataghan with a view of purchasing it. "stop," cried the janissary, to him, "come here, i want to test this blade on you." he knew the character of those villains too well to suppose that the rascal was joking--as a forlorn hope, he indifferently remarked, "that it would be hardly worth the while to try such an exquisite blade on my old tottering body," at the same time suggesting, that it would be better for his excellency to accept the sword as a gift, with the view of trying it on some worthier subject, and throwing the money to the merchant, the old gentleman very suddenly disappeared. imbued with the wildest fanaticism, and with all the prejudices of ancient times, and habituated to command rather than to obey, these janissaries constituted the most effectual barrier to all progress or national reform. indeed, their outrageous conduct was often the principal cause of war with foreign nations--and a stigma upon their country. any monarch, then, who appreciated the real interest of his subjects, and could anticipate the future downfall of his country, would be impelled to annihilate this scourge. eternal gratitude is due to the illustrious mahmoud, who at last, accomplished this task. a man of remarkable energy and discernment, more inspired with the spirit of civilization and modern reform than any of his predecessors; with a determination and perseverance unparalleled in the history of his country, mahmoud effected this coup d'état, and has justly been designated of "glorious memory." he first gained over to himself the renowned hüssein pasha, who was then the agha or chief of the janissaries; then kara-jehennem or black-hell, the chief of the artillery, and bostangy-bashi, the head of the life-guards; with the co-operation of these personages a system of military reform was ordered, requiring all the soldiery to be regularly drilled, and to adopt a certain uniform better suited to military life, than the flowing robes and cumbersome head gears they had hitherto worn. the artillery corps and the life-guards cheerfully submitted to this order, but the janissaries considered this change of costume as an innovation upon long established customs, and averse to any military discipline, there arose great dissatisfaction among them; and, as usual, they commissioned the kool-keahiassi, their representative, to remonstrate with his majesty, upon whose refusal to listen to their murmurs, they determined on rebellion. having no suspicions of their chief, hüssein-pasha, according to his counsel and public proclamation, the janissaries all assembled in their own barracks, at the great square of et-meydan, nearly in the centre of the city, to be in readiness to resist any attempt on the part of the sultan, to enforce his edict. the sultan being informed of this circumstance, he, on his part, issued a proclamation that all good mussulmans should repair to the holy standard of the prophet in the court of the seraglio. this standard is never brought out except in cases of great emergency, and no mussulman would refuse to repair to it when summoned. accordingly all the mussulman citizens, the artillery and the life-guards, who hated the janissaries, assembled at the seraglio and proceeded in a body to the great rallying point of the rebels, where they met with a warm reception from the barrack windows of the janissaries, who, confident in their own sheltered position, were sure of a glorious victory. but they were soon undeceived; for, by the order of kara-jehennem, two field pieces had been slily transported to the very doors of the barracks, whose first discharge shattered the gates and prostrated hundreds of the rebels. the janissaries now desperate, rushed to seize the cannon, which were just reloading: and had it not been for the heroic action of kara-jehennem at this critical emergency, all would have been lost. the brave general perceiving the nature of the affair, and although wounded as he was in the thigh, promptly jumped from his horse, and seizing the torch, instantly applied it to the cannon, and thus baffling the attempts of the assailants, soon turned the scale of fortune. all resistance was now rendered futile by the barracks being set on fire, when amidst shrieks of agony the miserable wretches were, on the 15th of june, 1826, destroyed. many among them were allowed to effect their escape, with the design of sparing the innocent. the most dangerous of their number were afterwards arrested and sent to the european castles on the bosphorus, where their doom was sealed by the bow-string, and thus perished this formidable scourge of the ottoman empire. many censures and much opprobrium have been cast upon the memory of mahmoud for this act of consummate destruction. he has been stigmatized as cruel and blood-thirsty, whereas his whole country was groaning under a scourge of tremendous power, in the shape of an unlicensed soldiery. day by day, the monster grew in strength, and threatened the utter annihilation of both sovereign and people. what greater act of humanity then, than to crush the hydra with one fell blow. by this act mahmoud not only established his own sovereign authority, but bursting, for the first time, the bonds of barbarism, made a bold stride towards the platform of civilization, and the fraternity of the world. but for mahmoud, turkey would, perhaps, have, ere this, been only a record of the past. the army was immediately re-organized, and the soldiers were trained in european tactics, by distinguished foreign officers. they attained great distinction as infantry and artillery-men, and still greater progress would have been made in military science, had it not been for the intrigues of russia, who, just at that period, availing herself of the forlorn condition of the country, found a favorable opportunity for declaring war. the allies of the present day, not discerning the muscovite cunning, were quiet spectators of the affray, and became as it were silent partners in the shameful treaty of adrianople, for which they have since paid so dearly. but the janissaries were not the sole barriers to the civilization of the country. the ulema, or the expounders of the faith, have exercised even greater influence over the minds of the superstitious people, through their unlimited spiritual authority. chapter xi. spiritual branch of the government. turkey is a country where church and state are most eminently combined. the standard of every measure or act is the koran; the administration of affairs, both civil and religions, must, therefore, be in conformity with the precepts of that sacred book; but since that book does not provide for all emergencies, and in many instances is not even explicit, those who made the koran their special study have ever been consulted, and all matters referred to them for examination and sanction. the entire body of these ecclesiastics are denominated the ulema, or learned (in the koran), and their expositions are termed fetvas. these fetvas constitute, as it were, the statutes of the state. the sanction of these doctors in every measure being essential, each civil tribunal is supplied with one of their number, in order that their acts may be valid. hence, even the grand-vezir, who only represents the sultan in temporal matters, is associated with the chief of the ulema, viz., the sheikh-ul-islam, who, on his part, personifies his majesty in spiritual affairs. bearing the title of fetvayi-pena, or the grand expositor, his approval is necessary even to the measures of the great viceroy himself, for no law can be promulgated without his sanction. considering then the importance attached to the study of the koran, and the benefit derived from a full knowledge of its spirit and contents, which constitute the basis of the law and government, many have been induced to adopt it as a profession. there are no less than forty thousand of these ulema in constantinople. these men are of very low origin, and are generally the sons of poor peasants. they come to constantinople and enlist themselves as softas, or students of divinity or law, which are synonymous terms, in one of the principal mosques, where they go through a regular course of study. they receive no salary, but are allowed one loaf of bread a day, and partake of such food as is gratuitously distributed to the poor from the imarets, or charitable institutions, which are attached to all the principal mosques. when they are proficients in writing, they are allowed to copy the koran in the original arabic, which it has hitherto been considered sacrilege to print or translate. and by the sale of these copies they gain a livelihood. they are afterwards promoted either to the office of imams, officiating priests, or to that of kadis and mollahs, district judges, or muftis, or expounders of the law. the acme of their ambition is to become either molla-hunkiar, chaplain to his majesty, kazy-ul-asker chief justice, or sheikh-ul-islam, high pontiff of the realm. this latter personage is considered by the mussulmans as an undoubted oracle in all instances. though the sultan is the head of both church and state, yet the sheikh-ul-islam being appointed for life, and exempted from capital punishment, his authority, through the superstition of the people, has been most arbitrary, and even sometimes controlled the actions of the executive; and it has only happened in our day, that in order to assert the entire supremacy of the sultan, the sheikh-ul-islam has, for the first time in the annals of the nation, been deposed from his sacred office, and another substituted in his place. the ulema are not supported by the government, but by the income of the mosques, which are largely endowed by religious devotees. those who are in the civil employment, receive, however, fixed salaries from the state, in addition to their own ecclesiastical income. the real estates owned by the mosques are immense and beyond calculation. they are called vakuf, in contradistinction to other lands of the government, termed mülk. these vakuf lands, which comprise more than two-thirds of the empire, are sold as under a perpetual lease, with a yearly tax or rent, and all improvements made on them are considered to belong by right to the land, and not allowed to be removed. in case of the death of a proprietor leaving no male heirs, the property, with all the improvements thereon, reverts to the mosque. the documents by which these lands are held, are so carelessly registered and transferred, that disputes are almost unavoidable. for instance, a deed is thus drawn up, a b has purchased of c d a piece of land, belonging to such a vakuf, said to contain about 156 acres more or less; that is, it might range from 100 to 1,500 or 2,000 acres, since its limits are not fixed by any actual survey, or specified by a map; but the boundaries are described in the most primitive style by sensible objects, viz., an apple tree on one side, a ditch on the other, the property of so and so on the third, and the main road on the fourth. this system has hitherto proved most advantageous to the vakufs; the peculiar elasticity of such indefinite boundaries, admitting of great territorial trespass upon adjoining lands, until they have succeeded in absorbing two-thirds of the empire. strangers are not allowed to own these lands, nor hold them in trust, with the view to avoid litigation with the different foreign embassies. there has not, therefore, been hitherto any inducement to european emigration, to the introduction of foreign capital, nor encouragement to internal improvements. the mosques derive an immense revenue, both from the rents of these estates, and the commission on sales, which is enormous; being no less than 8 per cent. on each transfer. with such a percentage, were the sale repeated fifteen times, the original cost of the land would be doubled; so that there is an effectual check upon land speculation. apart from this, the vakuf system is ruinous both to the community and to the government. if a man wants to raise a sum of money, by mortgaging his property for three months only, besides the customary interest of the country, which is 1 per cent., he has to bear the enormous expense of the transfer and retransfer, which amounts, as has been said, to 6 per cent. this added to the 3 per cent., the interest for the three months, making altogether no less than 9 per cent. for three months! this is not all. the natives not being allowed the privilege of borrowing foreign funds, by mortgaging their own property, are reduced to the necessity of resorting to their own capitalists, who usually demand 2 or 3 per cent. a month! the whole of this vakuf land, or church property, occupied and unoccupied, pays no taxes, so that a most profitable source of revenue is unavailable to the government. the immense incomes of the vakufs are partly appropriated to the erection of mosques, hospitals, schools, fountains, baths, and other charitable institutions; and above all to the support of the ulema themselves. but there is always an immense surplus, which lies dormant with previously accumulated hoards, unless resorted to for the promotion of some of the fanatical schemes and personal aggrandizement of the ulema themselves. these men, thus rendered independent of the government, and possessing unbounded influence over the minds of the superstitious people, and being, in fact, the ultimatum of every hope and project, have been the greatest barriers to national improvement; for, surrounded by wealth, and themselves of the lowest origin, they attach an undue value to worldly possessions; and trained in religious bigotry, they resist all innovations as infringing upon their own interests, temporal and spiritual; so that in destroying the janissaries, and leaving the ulema unmolested, sultan mahmoud did but half the work of reform. chapter xii. revenue and expenditure. the revenue of the government is about thirty-six millions of dollars, and is thus divided: göshüre, tithe $11,000,000 saliane, land tax 10,000,000 haradj, poll tax on christian subjects (lately abolished) 2,000,000 geömrük, customs 4,300,000 mirry and ihtissab, indirect tax 7,500,000 vergys, or tributes of egypt $1,000,000 vergys, or tributes of wallachia 100,000 vergys, or tributes of moldavia 50,000 vergys, or tributes of servia 100,000 1,250,000 ---------- $36,050,000 constantinople, the capital of the ottoman empire, though it contains, including all its suburbs, a population of nearly a million of inhabitants, is, owing to the system of centralization, exempt from the direct tax, which is levied only in the provinces. of late there has, however, been a sort of an income tax established, requiring every house-owner to register all contracts of rent at the police, and pay a fee thereon of two per cent. besides this, they have also introduced another tax on commercial and financial transactions, such as stamped bills, &c. some of these taxes and revenues are collected by the agents of the government on its own account; and others are farmed out at public auction, with the view of avoiding the abuses and corruptions of the officials; the benefit of which arrangement was illustrated, when the custom-house was farmed out to the armenian banker, djezâyirly, who bid double the amount which the treasury used to realize. the expenditure of the government has usually been nearly within its income; but of late years has exceeded it. it includes the sultan's personal expenses, and the civil and military list. the sultan receiving a salary of $300,000 per month; the grand vezir $4,000, and the others $3,000 each. civil list of the sultan and his harem $4,100,000 civil list of the army 15,000,000 of the navy 2,000,000 ordnance and fortifications 1,500,000 pay of functionaries 10,000,000 foreign diplomatic salaries 500,000 public works 500,000 séhims or life annuities &c. 2,200,000 interest on cayimés at 6 per cent. 450,000 bank subvention 1,000,000 ---------- $37,250,000 the deficiency in the treasury is occasioned partly by arrears of taxes, and partly by incidental expenses, such as bank subvention, appropriations for internal improvements, etc. with the view of enabling the treasury to carry on its operations, the government has, for the past few years, been obliged to effect a local loan of $8,000,000, in the shape of kayemés, or treasury notes, bearing interest of 6 per cent per annum. apart from this, it has also contracted a foreign debt of £5,000,000--these two are the only national debts. the monetary market in every country is governed by its exports and imports. the demand in turkey for articles of foreign produce, having gradually exceeded its former imports, the balance of trade has been against the country, and a drain of specie has been the natural consequence. apart from this, the payment of the russian indemnities, having forced the government to demonetize its currency, the rate of exchange became very fluctuating, and a fit subject to financial operators; so that affairs assumed a frightful aspect. to remedy this evil, the government was advised to establish a bank, in order to keep the foreign exchange at a more uniform par value; this subvention has cost the government on an average $1,000,000 per annum; jet without any good success, for it only served to enrich a few individuals, who were intrusted with its management, without benefiting the country in general, and involved the national treasury in greater difficulty. chapter xiii. army and navy. the standing army of the ottoman empire is in time of peace 120,000 men, and 180,000 during war. it consists of six ordoos or divisions, viz.: hassa, or imperial guards. der-y-saadet, or metropolitan division. roumely, or european (turkey) division. anadolou, or asiatic, division. arabistan, or arabian, division. irak, or messapotamian, division. every division comprises, three regiments of foot, two of horse, and one of artillery, with 32 guns, the whole amounting to 30,000 men. the soldiers in active service are called nizam, and those in reserve, redif. they are raised by conscription, and formerly used to serve all their lifetime, or as long as they were able, but by a commendable measure recently introduced by riza pasha, a military reform has been effected, by which they are now relieved at the end of five years, when they go to their respective homes, subject however, to certain military duties at stated times. by this measure, turkey has been enabled to raise a reserve of no less than 400,000 redifs. both nizams and redifs are divided into two bodies, commanded by feriks (or lieutenant generals) and livas (brigadier general), and the whole of every division by a serdar or field marshal. the entire army is subject to the orders of the ser-asker or the generalissimo, who is the minister of war. the famous omar pasha who was one of the serdars commanding the asiatic division, has lately been elevated to the post of ser asker. the rank and file of the turkish army in composed of able-bodied and well-drilled soldiers; but they are badly officered by illiterate men, raised from the ranks, who are untarnished by modern reforms and imbued with a due share of the popular national conceit. it is only very recently, that a military school having been established, the army is supplied with well instructed officers, among whom may be found many of the sons of the grandees of the empire. there is, however, a constant jealousy between these more enlightened young commanders, and the old veterans of the ancien régime; the latter regarding the former as mere upstarts and parvenus. the rayas, or christian subjects have hitherto been exempt from military service not because they are not fitted to become the defenders of their country, equally with their mohammedan compatriots, but lest by coming into competition with them they should rise to high posts in the army, and rank even above their mussulman subordinates. the turkish navy is comprised thus: +--------------------------+-----------------------------+ | |ships.| guns.| men. | | +------+------+---------------+ | three-deckers, | 2 | 260 | 2700 | | two-deckers, | 8 | 668 | 9500 | | frigates, | 14 | 788 | 5400 | | corvettes, | 6 | 100 | indeterminate | | brigs, | 6 | 80 | ,, | | schooners, cutters, &c., | 12 | 72 | ,, | | war steamers, &c., | 28 | 112 | ,, | | +------+------+---------------+ | | 76 | 2080 | 20 @ 25,000 | | destroyed at sinope, | 11 | | | | +------+ | | | | 65 | | | +--------------------------+------+------+---------------+ many of the turkish vessels of war are noble specimens of naval architecture. for ever since the beautiful models built by ekford and his successors, rhodes and beeves, have floated upon their waters, a wonderful impetus has been given to the navy of the osmanlis--and the prow of almost every vessel bears the impress of american ingenuity. magnificent men of war, vessels of the line, frigates, sloops, brigs, schooners, and cutters lie all along the bosphorus, fully manned and equipped. but so seldom are they in action, or so rarely do they sail beyond the "ocean stream," that the men are utterly without the incitement of any real engagements, and unused to rougher seas--so that if, perchance, they are called into active service, more than half of them are confined to their hammocks. thus the lamentable occurrence at sinope may be accounted for; the squadron having been obliged to anchor there on its way to batoum, because nearly all the sailors were sea-sick. the officers themselves are illiterate, and ignorant of the science of navigation. it is true that some few have been educated in the british navy, who are now distinguished in the turkish marine--and it is to be hoped that many of the scholars of the new naval academy will hereafter elevate the character of their nation on the seas; though there are not the same incentives to maritime emulation as exist in england and america, or even in france. the general staff of the navy contains, 3 admirals, 5 vice admirals, 8 rear admirals. the staff of a man-of-war of first rank, contains, 1 commander--whose rank is equal to lieutenant-colonel. 1 second commander chef de bataillon. 1 hodja major. 16 mulazims lieutenants. 1 physician, 2 surgeons, 1 imam or chaplain, and from 800 to 900 men. the entire naval force is under the command of a captain pasha or high admiral, who is the minister of the navy. the men, subalterns and even captains, both of the army and navy, are most miserably paid. a common soldier at the rate of seventy-five cents a month, and a captain eleven dollars and rations--so that any deficiency in hospitality or style of living, is not to be attributed to indifference on their own part. chapter xiv. commerce. the trade of turkey, including that of egypt and the danubian principalities, amounted, in 1852, to imports, £11,828,300 sterling. exports, 10,644,450 sterling. the osmanlis, having no commercial marine except their own few coasters--the whole foreign, and great part of the internal trade, is carried on by 35,000 foreign vessels; whose aggregate tonnage amounts to 5,000,000 annually, and they are admitted to her ports at small charges. the tariff of turkey is but nominal; being only three per cent. on all exports, and two per cent. additional as consumptive duty--making altogether, five per cent. on their value. this free-trade principle, is not, however, purely from liberal motives, but the result of foreign compulsion, and their own ignorance of political economy. for, in their anxiety to counterbalance the deficiencies of the treasury, caused by unjust treaties extorted from them by foreign powers, they have imposed a duty of no less than thirteen per cent. on all their produce or exports, so that, when the governmental tithe upon the raw material, the various other direct and indirect taxes on the same, and the onerous export duty are together taken into consideration, the cost of the produce is, in effect, raised to about 30 or 35 per cent. above its original value. apart from this, if sheet iron, which is imported from england, and upon which the usual duty of 5 per cent. is already levied, be manufactured into stove pipes, or any other form, it is considered as home produce, and a new duty of 13 per cent. collected thereon! the tariff is regulated every seven years, and the value of the different articles is determined by a commission of merchants representing the different nations, each of whom endeavors to maintain his own interest. one of these gentlemen exultingly boasted, that his own fortune was made, as he had succeeded in establishing a low valuation on a certain article in which he dealt very largely. america has hitherto had no representative in this body, though her commerce has, especially of late, been rapidly increasing with this part of the world. it has only been through ignorance of the country and its resources, that american enterprise has made so little progress in the east, or been confined to the interposition of english and other houses. does this country present no inducements to the mercantile community? let the following table of exports and imports speak for itself. exports. imports. corn. silk goods. beans, peas, etc. cotton goods. wool. woollen stuffs. raw silk. linen. opium. haberdashery. otto of roses, and other perfumes. hardware. angora hair. watches and clocks. coffee (mocha). jewelry. canary seed. sugar. linseed. coffee, pepper, and spices. do. oil. iron and nails. rice. coal. yellow berries. stone ware. boxwood. logwood. madder root. rum and wines. tallow. fancy goods. valonea. cochineal. gall nuts. tanned hides. fruits. glass ware. drugs. furniture. soap. drugs and medicines. olives and olive oil. butter. sponges. kaviar. tobacco. tar. cotton. ropes. sesame. cordage. meerschaum. chains. carpets. corn. copper. stoves. hides and skins. nicknacks. bones. machinery, etc. confections. furs. helva. crockery. shawls. indigo. oriental manufactures. dye stuffs. leeches. paints. rags. mirrors. cordials. millinery. cymbals. musical instruments, etc. lumber. leather. embroideries. boots and shoes. hemp and flax. lead. salt. paper. mastic. do. hangings. chibouks, nargilles, and amber tea. mouthpieces. books. carriages. india rubber. mahogany and rose-wood. if, then, such is the variety of items, more than sufficient to command the attention of any mercantile community, it is somewhat astonishing that the americans should not have been attracted to the advantages to be derived from an interchange of commerce, so jealous as they are of commercial supremacy. the territory is immense, teeming with undeveloped resources; the population over 35 millions of souls to be supplied with the necessities, and many of the superfluities of life. england and france have fought for the freedom of this commerce, america may spread her sails unstained by the blood of her citizens, and be wafted into ports, where treasures and profit are in greater profusion than either in china or japan. war having ceased, and so many new and salutary reforms soon to be introduced, commerce and all the arts of peace and prosperity will flourish with renewed vigor upon the turkish soil. internal improvements are already projected and in progress, demanding the genius and ingenuity of foreign climes. while then, england and france are eagerly watching every opening, shall america remain blindfolded and indifferent?--a country so productive of men of the rarest energy and perseverance, so full of the brightest yankee notions, and the most curious and useful specimens of mechanical art and manufactures! chapter xv. jurisprudence. in europe and america disputes often involve a process of tedious litigation. it is not so in turkey; although the koran and its voluminous commentaries decide every case "from a point of faith to a right of gutter," yet the form of trial is so simple that it becomes quite expeditious. for all turkish jurisprudence may be condensed into these two principles, viz., 1st. in every case of litigation the testimony of two witnesses is required of the plaintiff, and 2d. in default of witnesses an oath is administered to the defendant as the only alternative. no written document, except judicial, is considered valid, or recognized by the courts, unless it be substantiated by two witnesses. for instance, a banker had advanced to the treasury about $30,000 on account of a certain pasha, who farmed a province from the government. before the year was out the pasha died, and the court of chancery taking charge of the estate of the deceased, it became necessary to examine and settle the banker's account current with the defunct. on examination it was found that the banker had paid to the treasury the above mentioned sum in thirty-three different installments, and received from the deceased only $18,000; so that there was a balance due the banker of $12,000. but the court of chancery would not recognize the disbursements of the banker in behalf of the deceased, unless each of the installments made by the banker to the government could be substantiated by two witnesses; thus requiring no less than sixty-six witnesses for the case. it was in vain the banker produced the vouchers of the government regularly signed and sealed by the proper authorities. the judges would admit nothing but the requisite witnesses, and in default of such witnesses claimed from the banker the $18,000, the receipt of which was avowed by him, and consequently due to the heirs. nor is this mode of justice, primitive as it is, ever used with impartiality. witnesses are never subpoenaed by the courts, and no oath is required of them for the truth of their depositions; also on account of the spirit of fanatical animosity which exists mutually between the christians and mohammedans, no unbiased testimony is to be procured. indeed, formerly, the christians were not even allowed to appear as witnesses. the judges themselves being men of low birth and grovelling principles, only hold their offices as sources of personal emolument, as the wealth of various of these functionaries fully attests. the late sheikh-ul islam, at his death, left the sultan, by bequest, nearly a million of dollars! although strictly prohibited by the koran, they are in the constant habit of receiving bribes to any amount; notwithstanding the precepts of their religion, which are ever and anon held up as barriers to all reform, they are so corrupted, that their consciences are immediately lulled, whenever the requisite bonus is slily slipped under the cushions on which they sit, and the testimony of hired witnesses is then winked at by them, and even supported, as their interest may demand. the only qualification requisite for a witness to appear before these courts of justice, is to be omniscient, and never to utter the fatal word bilmem, i don't know. when conflicting interests occur, which induce the judges to take side against the witnesses--and such occasions are by no means rare, since justice is not only put up at auction, but a single recommendation from a grandee suffices to turn the scale--the scene is truly farcical, and its sketch worthy of the pen of dickens himself. the kadis adopt a singular method to disqualify the testimony. the questions which are put in the cross-examination, are not only entirely irrelevant to the subject matter in dispute, but would even puzzle the "cutest yankee" how to answer. their object is to disqualify the testimony by questions, no matter how ridiculous, but by which the witnesses will be forced at last to utter the ominous word bilmem--i don't know. with a view to ascertain whether the witnesses are well acquainted with the party in whose behalf they are testifying, they are asked, "who was the grandfather of the plaintiff?" the usual and formal answer in such cases is, "abraham," meaning the old patriarch. "his great grandfather?" "adam," beyond whom he (the plaintiff), is not supposed to have any ancestors. on a certain occasion, a judge being very anxious to defeat the testimony of a clever witness, after various ingenious interrogatories, made the quaint inquiry, "who married adam and eve?" to which the witness unhesitatingly replied, not, as it may be supposed, "i don't know,"--oh no, not so stupid as that--but, "i was not invited to the wedding." it was a maxim of the government and a profitable one to its employés, that in the administration of justice, a speedy infliction of punishment, even though unjust, was more desirable than a tedious course of litigation, as the fear and awe thus infused into the hearts of the people, rendered them submissive to the most irrational commands, and terrified the mass into a dread of infringing the laws, although some few might suffer unjustly. this principle, though nominally abandoned by the government, is still maintained by the judiciary; therefore, no pleading by lawyers is allowed, and the sentence is passed with all possible dispatch, or deferred at pleasure, as circumstances may require. the whole of turkey is divided into two separate judicial districts, viz., anadolou, and roumely, or asia and europe, and there is a kazi-ul-asker, or chief justice, appointed to each district, who preside over their respective courts. there, is, however, a supreme court called, arz-odassi, or court of appeals, where the grand vezir and the grand mufty conjointly preside, and there all cases, when appealed, are heard; but the sentences are seldom reversed, as they wish to preserve the decisions of the judiciary courts inviolable. when the injustice is too gross and palpable, a new ilam or sentence is granted by this court, without any allusion to prior proceedings. it is true that the people have the right to appeal to his majesty for redress, but as they are invariably referred to this court for reconsideration, justice is seldom rendered to the appellants. foreigners are not tried before these courts. if the litigation is between themselves, their cases are tried and settled by their legations; but if with the natives, they are referred to a special court of the ministry of commerce, called medjlissy-tidjaret, composed of various merchants both natives and foreigners, and presided over by the minister of commerce, or his deputy. the code by which this body pretends to be governed, is the "code de commerce" of napoleon. how equitably it is applied by them, may easily be perceived. imagine some twenty-five or thirty merchants, of different nations and tongues, assembled together in the character of jurors, who not only do not understand a word or syllable that is uttered in their hearing, but often do not even possess the means of communicating their ideas to each other. the affair brought before them, being unintelligible to most of them, it is generally conducted by the government officials, or some of the members who are fortunate enough to know something of the language, and their decisions imparted to the passive members, who usually give their sanction, taking it for granted that all is right. the consequence is, that if one of the litigants is so happy as to secure the good will and patronage of an acting member, he is sure to come off successfully, no matter how bad his case. this body, like the other turkish courts, admits not the pleading by lawyers, for a good and simple reason, that its members being men of business, and ignorant of law and legality, prefer to be governed by their own judgment, and constitute themselves at once, judge, jury, and prosecutors. the interpreters of the foreign legations, are, however, required by treaty to be present, who not only interpret for the parties, but are bound to defend and protect their fellow citizens, to the best of their ability, and report thereupon to their respective ambassadors. it is to be regretted that the services of these individuals are not always disinterested. policy sometimes inclines them to side with this serio-comical court, for the sake of keeping on good terms with the officials and its members, and thus maintaining their own reputations at the porte as emissaries of foreign lands; while at the same time a good opportunity is offered them for the gratification of any personal pique or prejudice against their clients; so that a foreigner may either suffer injustice, or be injurious to the people of the country, without the knowledge of his own ambassador. how true, then, the observation of lord stratford, that "the very atmosphere of turkey is impregnated with venality." the costs of lawsuits are always defrayed by the gainer of the cause, as he is supposed to be better able to afford such expenses; but the evident design is to induce people to go to law, since justice is set aside, and every facility afforded by the suborning of witnesses. even the sentences are so carelessly, nay designedly worded, that at any time flaws may be discovered, and a new trial demanded. the equity of making the gainer of the cause pay the costs, was ludicrously illustrated in the case of an arnavout or albanian, who was accused of stealing a gimlet. when in the presence of the kadi, he pleaded not guilty. the plaintiff, according to law, was required to substantiate his accusation, by producing two witnesses. the man was in a dilemma, for he had no witnesses to produce; but, as usual, he was relieved from the anxiety, by the prompt offer of those harpies, who linger about mehkemes, or courts of justice, and tender their benevolent services in such emergencies, for certain remuneration. moderate as was their demand, the trifling claim not justifying much extra expense, he modestly declined availing himself of this privilege, and pleaded to have no witnesses. the only alternative then for the kadi was to administer the oath to the defendant; which was unhesitatingly complied with; for the arnavouts are generally noted for their pliable consciences. thus having been duly sworn, our hero was pronounced the happy gainer of the cause, and requested to pay only the costs, which were ten times more than the value of the article in question. the arnavout being somewhat of a speculative genius, after due consideration of the pros and cons, in the case, coolly put his hand in his bosom, and producing the disputed gimlet, threw it at his accuser, saying, "there, have your gimlet, be you the gainer of the cause, and pay the costs!" as to criminal laws, they cannot be said to exist in turkey; for this form of justice being based upon the principle of retaliation, or kissass, the prosecution is always on account of the injured party, and not of the government; so that the release of a criminal is at the option of an individual. chapter xvi. education. mohammed, who is the oracle on all subjects, having declared, that "the ink of the learned and the blood of the martyr are equal in the sight of god," education is not so entirely neglected by his followers, as is generally supposed. it may, in one sense, be considered general; for every parent is obliged to send his children, both male and female, to the schools which are attached to the mosques, and supported by them. at constantinople there are no less than 396 mektebs, or primary free schools, attended by 22,700 children, both boys and girls. there are six other schools, for more advanced studies, attended by 870 pupils. the initiatory services to the elif bé, literature of the young moslems, are very imposing. the candidate, blooming with the roses of six short summers, is decked in his best, and in the best of the neighbors' too; for there is great borrowing of jewelry and rich embroideries, when the parents cannot afford to buy. the young tyro mounts a steed which vies with him in the splendor of its caparison, and with his badge of honor, a beautiful and glittering satchel slung over his shoulder, parades the streets. the children of the school about to be honored by his attendance, are the escort; and the good old hodja, or school-master, leads the train, and the tune, as they wend their way, singing and chanting; the boys and girls vociferating in full chorus, ameen! ameen! when the children of the sultan are about to begin their literary pursuits, the procession and rejoicings are, of course, in proportion to the excelling importance of the royal progeny over all inferior buds of humanity. the public are thus duly notified, though the instruction of the young sultans is by private masters. the system of instruction in the turkish schools is eminently primitive, and the branches taught are very elementary. they use neither quill nor desk, the peculiarity of the turkish characters requiring the stiffness of the reed; and the importance attached to calligraphy is so great, that the paper is held on the palm of the hand, in order to give the flexibility requisite for the formation of the letters. the lessons of the children consist of spelling and writing; and the higher studies in committing the koran to memory. in order to understand this sacred book, they are obliged to learn the grammar, in which proficiency is seldom made. hence very few, even of the officials, especially of the ancien régime, can read or write correctly, all their correspondence being performed by keatibs, or scribes. the general deficiency of education creates a great demand for men of this profession, whose services are needed for all sorts of letter writing, for petitions, obligatory notes, contracts, etc. these persons are to be found in the court-yards of the mosques, in shops and kahvés near the porte, and in many other places. to those who knew not how to affix their own names to any document, a seal not only became a convenient substitute, but the universal style of signature. all the grandees have their mëohurdar, or seal-bearer, and the sadrazam officiates in this capacity to the sultan. the common punishment at schools is the world renowned bastinado, or falaka. the apparatus consists of a cylindrical piece of wood, about five feet long, and one inch in diameter. near the centre of this rod, there is a loop of rope, sufficiently wide to hold both the feet of the truant. the rod being turned the rope winds upon it, and thus secures the feet, which are placed therein. the person is then thrown upon his back, by the raising of the feet, upon the soles of which the blows are applied with a cudgel by the schoolmaster. it is a rather painful operation, as some can tell from sad experience, who, like other boys that are never naughty, had to go through with it in their younger days. the turkish, originally tartar, is at present composed of three different languages, viz: arabic, persian, and tartar, owing to the different people with whom the turcomans came in contact. the koran being their fundamental study, the arabic has become the basis of the language, as the latin is of the european dialects. it is written from right to left, like all other oriental languages, with the exception of the armenian. the turkish has no capitals or roman letters, but consists of italics--or in other words, the written and printed characters have the same forms, nor have they any punctuation. their calligraphy may be divided into five different styles. the rika, or ordinary hand-writing, the same being used for printing. sülüs, or enlarged writing, is used for inscriptions, title-pages, or the headings of chapters. divany, or the court script, which is an ornamental style of writing, and only used at the porte for firmans, or edicts. taalik, or the persian letters, is used in the judiciary courts, and for poetry. siyakat, or turkish hieroglyphics, is only used for treasury bonds. the turkish language is, in itself, most copious and expressive, euphonious in sound, and capable of the greatest variety of expression, and is well adapted to the composition of poetry. although the osmanlis formerly possessed but little mathematical, philosophical, or scientific learning, the muses have never denied their inspiration to them. foreign literature has been much in vogue in latter times, and many translations have been made into turkish. the languages of europe are also cultivated to some extent, and many are now to be found at the porte, who speak the french and english quite fluently. the present sultan has done much to elevate the system of public instruction in his dominions. he has ordained a council to superintend all educational affairs, and also has commenced the erection of a magnificent public university, opposite the mosque of st. sophia. there exist already, the school of the mosque of ahmed, that of suleiman, and one founded by the late validé sultan, for the education of the young candidates for public offices. there are, also, the medical, normal, and naval schools, and last of all, the agricultural school at san stefano, the direction of which was, once upon a time, given to the celebrated turkey jim, of south carolina. the sultan himself is present at the examinations of these various colleges, with his retinue of ulema, ministers, and pashas; his majesty even propounds questions to the pupils, encouraging them by his gracious condescension of manner. there are as many as 80,000 books in the public libraries, written or printed in the different oriental dialects, arabic, persian, and turkish. these works treat of history, science, and theology; also belles-lettres, and good breeding, on which last subject, the osmanlis are extremely punctilious. the young men, and even children, are exceedingly simple and unpretending, but at the same time, intelligent and polite in their demeanor. they maintain a remarkable gravity of deportment, and in the absence of their fathers, exercise the prerogatives of hospitality, with all the dignity of the patriarchs themselves. there are now twenty-one different newspapers and periodicals in the country, viz. two turkish, eight armenian, three greek, five french, two italian, and one jewish. chapter xvii. medicine. although the ancient arabs were celebrated for their medical knowledge, the osmanlis have only of late years made some advances in the study of medicine. they are most credulous and superstitious in their notions upon this subject, and ready to follow the advice of any empiric in the healing art. they seem to know two diseases peculiar to themselves; one they call gelinjik, and the other yelanjik. the first is used in a comprehensive universality and signifies almost any ailment; the second is applied to erysipelas and nervous pains in the face. the art of curing the gelinjik has long been possessed by a single family, and descended in hereditary succession from one to another of its members. there is a certain meriem kadun of this profession, who once had the good fortune to cure the present sultan, with some of the mysterious red nectar, which is the principal medicine administered for this malady. she has ever since had abundant practice in the royal palace and everywhere else; and the famous yelanjikgee has a far-famed reputation. a particular class of emirs, or the descendants of fatima, the daughter of mohammed, are supposed to possess the virtue of healing the nervous diseases of the face called yelanjik. they wear green turbans, repeat certain prayers over the patient, and are supposed to possess a charm in their fingers' ends. the emir lays his thumb on his nose, breathes upon the extended fingers, then lays it upon the forehead of the patient, and pressing upon the nerves of the face, utters a short prayer. thus he often succeeds in dispelling the malady in a few minutes--whether by his own medical skill or by the credulity of his superstitious patients, may be questioned. strange to say, their only belief is, that when a cure is not effected, it is not because of the inefficacy of the charmed fingers, but the disease was not genuine yelanjik, and therefore the holy emir could not cure it. when any disease fails to be cured by either of these characters, the gelinjikgee and yelanjikgee, then in despair the other disciples of the healing art are summoned, of whom there is no scarcity in constantinople, where the last comer is generally patronized, until some new pretender succeeds him. a person once exceedingly ill of typhus fever, called in one of these medical gentlemen, who, although he considered the case quite hopeless, prescribed for his patient and took his leave. the next day, in passing by, he inquired of a servant at the door if his master was not dead. "dead? no. he is much better." whereupon the doctor proceeded up stairs to obtain the solution of this miracle. "why," said the convalescent, "i was consumed with thirst, and i drank a pailful of the juice of pickled cabbage." wonderful! quoth the doctor--and out came the tablets, whereupon was inscribed, "cured of typhus fever, mehemed agha, an upholsterer, by drinking a pailful of pickled cabbage juice." soon after the worthy doctor was called to another patient, a yaghlikgee, or dealer in embroidered handkerchiefs, suffering from the same malady. he forthwith prescribed "a pailful of pickled cabbage juice." on calling the next day to congratulate his patient on his recovery, he was astonished to be told, the man was dead! the oriental esculapius, in his bewilderment as to these phenomena, came to the safe conclusion, and duly noted it in his memoranda, that, "although in cases of typhus fever, pickled cabbage juice is an efficient remedy, it is not, however, to be used unless the patient be by profession an upholsterer!" fortunately for the community, this branch of science is improving in turkey, and there are numerous graduates from the medical college, who are employed in the army, and by the inhabitants in general. chapter xviii. western prejudices, and eastern toleration. the etiquettes and punctilious ceremonies of society were doubtless unknown in the primitive condition of our race. modern civilization has put the world into fetters with its laws and by-laws, which seem the result of some secret combination, as they are generally known only to the initiated, while the less fortunate mass of the communities become the laughing-stock of these wiseacres. the true politeness and generosity which spring from good feeling and common-sense, are little regarded by the aristocracy of society, unless you have the open sesame to their doors, which is nothing less than an entire conformity to their pre-conceived ideas. a certain air and style, only perceivable to the critics themselves, is to be maintained; a certain contour of costume rigorously to be adopted, whether agreeable to the wearer or not--an unvaried and monotonous similarity must pervade the whole world, or those venturing to differ, must suffer not only an exclusion from the company of very agreeable people (barring their prejudices), but an absolute persecution of ill-sounding epithets--such as vulgar, conceited, independent, and even the moral character is often libelled. you must not attend the church of the rev. ----, unless your hat is black as a stove-pipe, and with a rim of approved dimensions. the fastidious ladies of upper-tendom show symptoms of nervous agitation, as you unwittingly mount their steps in your native head-gear, which may chance to be a sombrero, or a turkish fess--what if a turban! the only occasion on which a foreigner might be permitted to appear in his own every-day clothes, would be at some fancy ball, as if in masquerade. all this may do among themselves, but why attempt to renovate the habits of a life-time in others. indeed, the americans are very exacting, for when did they ever conform to any other nation's mode of dress? while the moment you set foot on their shores, you must turn american in toto, or you are no go. the english are proverbial for their snobbism, and stiff shirt-collars--yet in london, you may meet the hindostanee in his white robes and turban, the turk in his fess or red cap, and many others, as they are accustomed to be at home. still more common is this variety in paris, and all over europe. americans, english, and french, traverse the east dressed as they like, without creating either the sensation of disgust or astonishment in the beholders. why, then, this illiberality in the land of freedom? why force the chinese, the moment they land, into straight-jackets, or crown the osmanli with a sombre stove-pipe, the most uncouth machine, yclept the hat, which ever any sensible people ventured to place in so honorable a position. nolens volens, the osmanli, on his arrival in the land of "independence," must needs become a pasha of two tails, reversed however, as at home these emblems of rank are carried before him; but now he becomes his own standard-bearer, parading his honors and entrée to the fashionable world, in the shape of the time-honored dress coat. to those who have never visited foreign lands, one would suppose, nothing would be more entertaining than to see an exhibition of habits and customs of other peoples. but we must take the world as it is. although the manners and dress of the orientals were, and are still, in many respects very different from those of their western neighbors, yet they have displayed a degree of civilization, if we may so speak, in their toleration of others as they chanced to meet them. english, spanish, italians, magiars, greeks, albanians, croats, bulgarians, persians, kurds, and arabs, walk their streets and enter their houses without dreaming of changing their costume, or disguising their own nationality under any garb whatever. even the european or american travellers, making half-way attempts at external conformity to those about them, although they become perfect caricatures, have free scope to sport the travesties they make of themselves, and are even treated with civility; yet, judging from appearances, no one could conceive what parts of the world might claim the honor of their nativity. indeed, the only occasion upon which we remember the turks to have taken umbrage at the european costume, was some time ago, when visitors desired to present themselves before his imperial highness, their ideas of decency compelled them to furnish each one with a long pelisse. so far have they yielded their prejudices, as even to adopt the european military and undress costume, only excluding the hat; though not without a struggle, as was exemplified when sultan mahmoud ordered the janissaries to doff their cumbersome head-gear, flowing robes, and ample trowsers. but alas for the robes and turbans! the cashmere girdles, and yellow slippers! they are rapidly passing away. the audience-hall of the grand signor, is now filled with an ordinary assemblage--the sultan and his minister are stripped of the mysterious appendages of their gorgeous draperies--beneath which, there seemed to breathe no common soul. how imposing the garb, as they were wont to stand in the august presence, immovable, impenetrable; each with his majesty of mien, flowing beard, and portentous silence. we have seen a fac-simile of an ancient court, or, as it was scarce thirty years ago, in the days of the father of the present sultan. mahmoud was seated on his throne upon an elevated platform; an immense turban composed of innumerable folds of the purest and finest white muslin covered his royal head, in the front of which was placed a magnificent spray of brilliants; his robes of rich silk, were confined by a girdle of cashmere's softest and richest fabrics, while over his shoulders hung a magnificent pelisse, lined throughout with the best of russia's sables. behind him stood his numerous pages, all young, blooming, and beardless as the fairest maidens, arrayed in robes of delicate tints. the silahdar holding his majesty's sword upright, stood on the right hand, while the haznadar, or lord steward, was upon the other side of the sultan. the ak-agha, or chief of the white eunuchs, was behind the chair, an old, woman-like man, beardless and wrinkled. in the group were the imperial cup bearer, kahvegee bashi, coffee server, kaftan-aghassi, gentlemen of the wardrobe, etc. below the platform, and in front of the sultan, stood in respective rank, the different ministers of the realm, all robed to the feet in rich and varied hues, and no two turbans alike. they seemed, indeed, to be the movers and arbitrary controllers of the destinies of a vast nation, the secret springs which kept the machine in motion. a most interesting collection of illustrative models from life, is carefully preserved at constantinople, called the elbisseyi atiké, and exhibited at the great square of at meydan, or the ancient hippodrome, near st. sophia. it is wonderfully true to nature, and typical of eastern life, recalling those very characters with their various avocations, who but a few years ago were all upon the scene, enacting the very reality of orientalism. the different grades of life, the officers under government, civil, religious, and military, the various trades and callings, and individuals of both sexes were formerly, each and all, designated by a peculiar style and appearance. the janissaries were also habited in various costumes, according to their ranks and employments. such was the past magnificence of turkey, now rapidly losing its former type of varied external beauty, as it merges from day to day in the great stream of civilization. chapter xix. the sultan and his personnel. rousseau has wisely observed, "il faut étudier la société par les hommes, et les hommes par la société," and as the tone of society in all countries is derived from the courts and the wealthy, so also in turkey, the sultan and his court are the model of domestic life and its institutions. sultan abd-ul medjid khan, the padishah of the osmanlis, or the reigning monarch of turkey, was born may 6th, 1822, and succeeded his father sultan mahmoud, july 1st, 1839, at the age of seventeen. he has a brother and a sister, both younger than himself. his brother, aziz efendi, lives in the same palace with him, having apartments therein for his own use and accommodation. his sister adilé sultan, who is married to mehmed aali pasha, the ex-grand vezir, resides in a separate palace on the bosphorus. the sultan has until now had nine children, two girls and seven boys, but none of his children will succeed him while his brother is living; for the law of the country requires that the eldest living male member of the imperial family shall ascend the throne. the ceremony of the coronation consists simply in escorting the new sultan in a state procession, to a particular mosque at eyoub, at the northern extremity of the city, where he girds on the sword of state after suitable prayers, and is thus constituted padishah. the princes regent of turkey, were formerly shut up at a place called kafes or cage, within the old seraglio, where they were watched and closely guarded, and never allowed to go abroad--with a view to avoid intrigue or civil commotion. but sultan mahmoud first broke the unsocial chains of ancient usages; his successor has nobly followed in his father's footsteps, and allows his brother liberty to go out when he wishes, but not without a formal application for permission, which is enjoined upon him by court etiquette. the two brothers differ very materially from each other, in temperament and character. the sultan is of a mild and affable disposition, and so willing and yielding is he on matters of state to please his people, that he is more ready to be governed than to govern. his brother, on the contrary, is very stern and passionate, and has the same determined character as his father. abd-ul-medjid is of medium stature, rather delicately formed. his eyes are dark and heavy in expression, with lofty and arched eye-brows; his beard and moustaches of a dark auburn hue, are carefully trimmed and completely conceal the expression of his lower features. his complexion is very pallid, and his whole air decidedly nonchalant. on all state occasions he appears in public on horseback, wearing the national fess, ornamented with the royal aigrette in brilliants. his short spanish cloak falls in graceful folds around his person, the collar of which is also adorned with diamonds. in a word, his lofty carriage and beautifully caparisoned steed quite realize the picturesque ideas generally conceived of an eastern monarch. he never salutes any one in public or private, save by a single glance of his eye. his favorite residence is the palace of tchiraghan on the european shore of the bosphorus, a few miles from the city. in order to accommodate the numerous and peculiar retinue of an osmanli sovereign, there is a similarity in the internal arrangements of all the royal residences. these palaces, like all other osmanli houses, are divided into two compartments; the first is called the selamluk or the place of salutation, and is appropriated to the men; the second is the harem, which belongs exclusively to the ladies. between these two are the apartments of the sultan, called mabeyn. the personnel of a sultan formerly consisted of many functionaries. their number has of late been much reduced, though they are still very numerous. the principal honorary officer is the silahdar or imperial sword-bearer, whose office being a sinecure, he only enters the presence when specially summoned, or to make some official reports. those who are in the most constant communication with the sultan, are his own sir-kiatibs, private secretaries, and the mabeyngys, or chamberlains, and he is always attended by one or two of the latter, when he goes out. these gentlemen having the private ear of his majesty, there is constant intrigue among the different political parties to ensure their patronage, as the easiest means of access to his sublime highness. the enderoun aghalery, or gentlemen of the royal household, are young men selected from among the slaves, and also from the families of the citizens. they are trained from their earliest years to the usages of the palace, and receive an education suited to their prospective career. when they are fitted for attendance upon his imperial majesty, they become itch-oghlans, or pages of the presence, and perform the duties of cup-bearer, towel-bearer, gentlemen of the wardrobe, and slippers, pipe and coffee bearers, ushers, etc. they are many of them distinguished for their elegance of manner and intelligence. from the rank of pages they are afterwards promoted to be chamberlains, and often even attain the dignity of müshirs, or ministers of state. the present ministers riza pasha, and mehmed-aali pasha, the brother-in-law of the sultan, were both mahmoud's pages. the mutes are as indispensable as any of the palace attendants; when the grand vezir goes alone, or in company with the grand mufty, to the imperial chamber, all the mabeyngys and the enderoun aghalery withdraw, and the deaf mutes remain in attendance. as on no occasion, not even during a grand council, when they deliberate with closed doors, the osmanlis can dispense with their attendants, mutes are always very necessary appendages to them, both at the palace and the porte. although they have not the sense of hearing nor the faculty of speech, they possess a remarkable quickness of comprehension, and have a great tact in communicating their ideas, even to the divulging of state secrets to their intimate friends and favorites. they were formerly the executioners of the palace; no reason can be assigned for their holding such an office, unless, being deaf and dumb, they were not qualified to hear and pity the unfortunate victims. there are also generally one or two dwarfs in the royal retinue, who are a sort of court jesters. there is one now at the palace, who became a very distinguished character during the reign of mahmoud. on one occasion, when the sultan was in high glee, he summoned this man of small pretensions to the harem. his majesty wishing to test his ingenuity, proposed to him, that if he could kiss any one of those girls (pointing to a group of tall and beautiful circassian slaves in attendance), he should have that very one for his wife. at this novel and unexpected intimation, sir paynim raised his eyes to survey the bewitching circle, apparently so far beyond his reach. but such a chance could not be lost; at all hazards, he boldly advanced to one of the fairest, and while she looked down upon him in dismay, gave her tangible proofs of his attachment by a tremendous blow on her stomach. as she almost doubled with pain, her pigmy lover seized her around the neck, imprinted his first kiss of love, and gained the royal prize by this coup de main. at the threshold of the mabeyn, you will meet the enderoun aghalery, or the gentlemen of the household; passing by these personages, you ascend the stairway, and enter a large hall. on all sides are many curtained doorways, at one of which two guards are stationed. these are the perdegys, or curtain keepers to his majesty. the peculiarity of their domestic habits, viz., the ladies occupying separate apartments, leaves the entire selamluk free and accessible to all. hence the necessity, when wishing to be retired, of having curtains suspended to the doorways, and guards stationed to prevent the abrupt encroachment of visitors and strangers. the personal vanity of the osmanlis is such, that no occasion is neglected for its gratification, and munificence is always the concomitant of rank and distinction; therefore the slightest service is invariably compensated by a remuneration, technically called bakshish. the keahya at the landing, who holds your cayik while you disembark, or the ostler who holds your horse, the pabouchjy, who officiously arranges your slippers as you leave the house, with the whole household retinue of obsequious attendants, one and all expect the customary bakshish. so universal is this practice, that the grander the establishment, the lower are the wages of the servants, who are sure to reap so good a harvest from the numerous visitors, that they willingly compound for the most trifling salaries; indeed, it may justly be said, that the grandees support each other's menials. this system pervades all classes of the people, and even the palace of the sultan. an amusing story is told illustrative of the way in which these perdegys make their post available. one of these guards seemed to be enjoying such extensive revenues from his office, that he was reported to his majesty in a very ludicrous manner. a certain wit, by name indjyly-tchavoush, a sort of an oriental curran, occasionally used to visit the sultan; but never without paying tribute to these keepers of the curtain. nettled at these exactions, and wishing to attract his majesty's attention to the subject, he one day entered the royal presence with a large mackerel, the commonest fish in turkey, in his hand, as a present. the sultan was struck with the oddity of the gift, and supposing that the expectations of the donor could only be realized by some royal munificence, asked, "what he desired in return?" "only 500 lashes, sire," was the prompt reply. this reply added to his majesty's astonishment, "and why so strange a request?" he demanded. "because, since, i am obliged to share all your majesty's gifts with your majesty's curtain keepers, i wish the rogues to have their share in this also!" judging from your benevolent countenance, that you are endowed with generous impulses, the keepers allow you to pass within the curtained door. you are now in a large apartment, on three sides of which are windows, with a wide turkish sofa at the end, some two feet high from the floor, where the sultan is seated entirely alone, with a desk and implements of writing before him, and a long and graceful chibouk, mounted with a splendid amber mouth-piece ornamented with diamonds, carelessly lying by his ride. he utters the simple word, gel! come! when several attendants appear as if by magic, and stand before him with folded hands. at every command they make the temennah, or turkish salutation, which is done, not by bending the person, and bringing their arms over their heads, as though they were going to dive, as is often represented in theatres, but simply by raising the right hand to the mouth, the fingers touching the lips, then the right temple, and then carelessly dropping it down. this temennah is performed without uttering a single word, and signifies perfect comprehension of the royal orders. an air of humility is always maintained in the presence of superiors, and such signs of active existence, as coughing or sneezing, are quite unallowable. the person feeling preliminary symptoms of these actions, being obliged either to suppress them, or to withdraw from the presence. indeed the social etiquettes are very strict, even among equals. although tobacco is introduced on occasions of ceremony and social intercourse--the chibouk and nargillé are not the calumets of peace, but of hospitality--the disagreeable concomitants of the weed so universal in america, are absolutely unknown in turkey. spitting, then, is to the osmanlis a most repulsive act, and their horror may be imagined when, on a certain occasion, while in the company of a grandee of the realm, the representative of the great american nation (the new world), deliberately took his quid from his pocket, and after cutting the requisite morsel, stored it carefully in the corner of his mouth, and commenced the slow mastication so characteristic of good tobacco chewers! the indulgence of such a luxury having only made his excellency's mouth water, and there being no other accommodation at hand, in order to relieve his salivary glands, he was obliged to aim at an open window close by! his excellency, consequently, became a sort of a proverb among them, and the question was repeatedly asked, "does your american friend still continue to enact the camel, or does he not weary of chewing the cud?" unlearned in classic lore, how should they know that the poet once said- "tu tantum erucis imprime dentem." no one is ever seated in the presence of the sultan, nor are any of the customary rites of hospitality observed; such as the introduction of pipes, coffee, sherbet, etc. on the presentation of foreign ambassadors, the ceremony is so arranged, that the minister plenipotentiary and his sublime highness, enter the apartment simultaneously by opposite doors; thus the sultan receives the representatives of foreign potentates on foot, without condescending to rise from his seat. after the audience is terminated, the royal guests are conducted into the apartment of the mabeyngys, where they are treated with true oriental hospitality and munificence. those persons who are not aware of the wonderful changes that have taken place in turkey, may fancy this monarch to be surrounded by a group of robed, turbaned, and bearded osmanlis; on the contrary, both the sultan and his attendants now wear a european military frock coat and pantaloons, with only the national fess for a head-dress. the moustache is universally worn, and it would seem as ridiculous to an osmanli to shave the eyebrows as the upper-lip. indeed, nothing excites the curiosity of the rising generation so much, as to see a man without a moustache; especially an aged man, in whose case, it would seem to them like an attempt at perpetual youth. there is not a beard to be seen on any of the attendants of the palace, for the beard is considered in turkey as a mark of dignity and freedom; consequently, no one in the personal service of the sultan is allowed this honor, except by special permission of his majesty; which implies, that the individual is no longer retained in the palace, but soon to be elevated to some superior office. the beard, then, being indicative of rank and position, it is preserved with a certain superstitious reverence; no mussulman, therefore, after the ceremony of allowing the beard to grow has been once performed, ever again uses the razor; nevertheless it is not permitted to assume the natural growth, but is carefully trimmed according to the fashion of modern times. abd-ul-medjid makes his appearance in the mabeyn, early in the morning; for it is a universal custom with the osmanlis to rise early. he generally spends his mornings in the perusal of local and foreign newspapers, which are translated for him, and other general reading. he has lately acquired a taste for the french language, in which he has made considerable progress. he is, according to the turkish acceptance of the term, well-educated; that is, well versed in turkish belles-lettres, with a general acquaintance with the history of his own country. the science of mathematics has also engrossed some of his attention, and he even condescended to receive instructions from etem pasha, a young man of distinguished abilities and foreign education, who was taken into the royal retinue as colonel of the body-guards; doubtless, however, with reference to his scientific acquirements. his majesty's meals, according to the custom of the country, are two; one in the morning between ten and eleven, the other at sunset. they are served by the tcheshnigear, whose duty it is to break the seals of the different dishes intended for the sultan's repast, and after having tasted, to carry them into the royal presence. although the osmanlis are great epicures, their tastes are very singular. their dishes are very diversified and numerous, consisting usually of twelve or fifteen, and sometimes even thirty courses; sweet and meat dishes being introduced in alternate succession; the meal commencing with soup, and ending with pilaf, or a preparation of rice peculiar to turkey. they have a species of pastry or paklava, which is remarkably light and delicious; and the mohalleby, or turkish blanc-mange, is much liked, even by europeans. fruit, at constantinople, is very abundant and delicious, and is partaken of frequently during a repast. indeed, the grapes of scutari, called tchavoush, are unrivalled, and even more delicious and delicate than those of madeira or malaga. the order in which a dinner is served is as follows: soup, kebab (or roast meat in small pieces), entremet (or vegetables and meat cooked together), pastry, roast, fish, entremet, mohalleby, entremet, maccaroni, fowls, jelly, etc., until at last it winds up with the significative pilaf and sherbet, or hosh-ab. no wine or liquor is served at the table, but his sublimity occasionally during the day visits the pantry, doubtless, "for his stomach's sake, and his often infirmities." unfortunately, modern civilization has some vices as well as many virtues; and the fashion of excessive drinking, has, among others, lately crept into turkey, to which some of the élégants are becoming much addicted, and, ere long, they may, perhaps excel even the paragon, john bull. although many other innovations and attempts at reform have succeeded in turkey, yet the original style of eating has not been much improved. they use neither chairs nor tables; but a low stool being put in the middle of the room, a large circular copper tray is placed upon it. no such paraphernalia as cloths, napkins, knives, forks, plates, glasses, etc., are essential; small loaves of bread, alternately with small dishes of fruit, pickles, anchovies, cheese, etc., are indiscriminately scattered around the edges of the tray, in the middle of which the different preparations of food are successively placed by the ayvaz or scullion, and the food is eaten with the fingers, excepting the liquid dishes, for which wooden spoons are provided. around the tray, the company assemble, sitting with their legs under them, and all eating from the dish in the middle; reminding us of the customs of ancient times, when it was said, "it is one of the twelve who dippeth with me in the dish." one long, narrow napkin is provided, which goes all round the tray, and lies upon the floor; each person slipping under it as he sits down. their tables being accessible to their friends at all times, dinner-parties are never given, except on state occasions; for, hospitality being one of the characteristics of the east, and especially enjoined by the koran, no one is excluded from their board; and when the number present is so large as not to allow them to sit comfortably, they place themselves side-wise, or in a sort of spoon fashion, as though they were leaning upon one another, and thus illustrating the scene at the feast of the passover. in some of the houses of the wealthy, and especially of those whose owners have visited europe, the european mode of eating is imitated, when the motley company, which is always assembled, sometimes presents a most ludicrous scene. once, a turk at such a table, wishing to conform to the customs of civilized life, endeavored to use the fork. failing in several attempts to take a piece of meat, and determined to overcome his gaucherie, he resolutely took hold of the morsel with his fingers, and placing one end of the fork against his breast, stuck the meat upon it with an immense effort, and then carried it to his mouth, quite contented with his own success, amid the applause of the company. during the sacred month of ramazan, however, the european mode of eating is never practised, even by the most enlightened and liberal. knives, forks, tables and chairs, are then altogether set aside, as being too profane. his majesty usually breakfasts at the mabeyn, and always quite alone; for no one being equal to him, none can have the honor of his company; and his evening repast is often taken, weather permitting, at some beautiful watering-place. the time between these two meals is usually occupied with some of his ministers, or the audiences of the foreign ambassadors, and in excursions on the bosphorus or elsewhere. whatever transpires at the porte, is reported to him every evening, through the ameddjy, or state chancellor, expressed in the most beautiful and elegant style of which the turkish language is capable. in fact, the bureau of the ameddjy is considered the best school for polite literature, and those who have once served in that department, invariably acquire a remarkable elegance of diction. the sultan reads over these documents every evening, together with the arzou-hals, or petitions, which are presented to him on fridays; and after giving his imperial sanction or veto, returns them to the porte, to be acted upon accordingly. the approval of the sultan is not expressed by the application of any royal seal or cypher, but by a bold stroke of his majesty's reed, representing the arabic letter s, which is termed sah, meaning correct or approved. and those which are rejected are torn in one corner. the sultan's cipher, called toora, is formed from the names of the reigning monarch, and that of his father. it reads thus, "sultan abd-ul-medjid, son of sultan malmoud khan, the sultan of sultans." this is the imperial seal, and ottoman coat of arms, and it is affixed to all royal edicts, engraved upon public buildings, and stamped upon the various current coins of the empire. when his evening occupations are over, the sultan retires to the harem. such is the ordinary routine of the life of the turkish sovereign; but there are also many other public duties which occupy his time and attention, and fully demonstrate that the post of sultan is by no means a sinecure. chapter xx. public duties of the sultan. the sultan is obliged to attend one of the public mosques in person every friday, which is the mohammedan sunday. one reason of his public appearance is to set an example of religious devotion; another, to assure the people by his actual presence, that he is in the enjoyment of life and health; and a third, to give an opportunity to any of his discontented subjects to appeal to him in person; for, the right of appeal has never been denied in turkey. this is done by a paper, which is held in the extended hand of the petitioner, and presented anywhere in the course of the royal route. it is received by his pages and reserved for the future perusal of his majesty. his departure, both from the palace and the mosque, is announced by a royal salute of 21 guns from the batteries, and the ships of war. these opportunities are eagerly embraced by all strangers who wish to gaze on the great "tamer of infidels and the scourger of the unbelieving race of christian vassals." there are two other great state festivals, on which occasions the sultan and the whole of the royal retinue combine to present one of the most beautiful oriental pageants. these are the feasts of bairam, one of which occurs at the end of ramazan or the long fast, and the other the courban bairam, or feast of the sacrifice, sixty-eight days after. there is a grand state procession. surrounded by his numerous pages in uniforms glittering with golden embroidery and plumed head-dresses, attended by dignitaries of the realm in full court dress, all mounted on arabian steeds, splendidly caparisoned, the sultan enters the mosque of sultan ahmed at the ancient hippodrome. he alights upon a velvet carpeting, which extends into the mosque, and is supported on each side by chamberlains. as he dismounts, the voice of the assembled multitude proclaims "allah padishahumuza oozoon eömürler versin," long live the king--god bless the sultan. the padishah after the performance of prayers, returns to his palace at the seraglio point, where the throne room is always preserved. there he receives the compliments of the season from his ministers and officers of state. the procession to the mosque being public, has been described by many who have witnessed it; but from the reception at the palace all foreigners are excluded. the sultan is seated on a chair of state, with the princes and younger princesses of the royal blood on each side. behind the throne, in a semicircle, stand the personnel of the royal household. opposite the throne, at the farthest end of the hall, a band of musicians is stationed, and as they perform the national airs, the dignitaries enter the royal presence according to their respective ranks, to pay homage to their sovereign. as has already been described, the usual mode of salutation in the east is the temennah, made by touching the hand to the lips and then to the forehead, which signifies affection and humility. with the desire, however, to be more respectful, they often bend down to the ground, as if willing to take up the very dust upon which the honored feet have rested, or attempt to kiss the hem of the garment. but all these ordinary modes of salutation are insufficient at a royal reception; when a beautifully embroidered rug is spread before the sultan, on one end of which his feet rest. as they present themselves, they slowly bend their persons and touch their lips and foreheads to the border of the carpet, which ceremony is called the kissing of the sultan's feet; for, no one is allowed any actual proximity to the royal person--thus guarding him from the assassin's dagger. after kissing the end of the carpet they arrange themselves in two opposite lines on each side of the sultan, to witness the homages of the various pashas and other dignitaries. those who take their stand in the presence are only the heads of the departments, both civil and religious. after the ceremony is over, every one retires to hit own dwelling, to enact the sultan to his subordinates. the courban bairam is the great festival celebrated by the pilgrims at mecca, in commemoration of the offering up of ishmael; and is generally observed throughout the mohammedan dominions,--on which occasion every mussulman must kill a sheep with his own hand, and distribute the meat to the poor. the sultan performs this sacrifice at his own palace before the morning prayers. as he stands at the threshold, a ram with gilded horns is laid at his feet, and girding himself with a silken towel, he completes the sacrifice. the solution of this act of devotion is, that they believe that the faithful will be transported over the surat or bridge of hair into paradise on the backs of these immolated victims. the old seraglio, which was the residence of so many sultans, and the scene of the aggrandizement and downfall of so many good mussulmans; under whose latticed windows the bosphorus flows so deeply as to tell no tales of the hundreds of living and beautiful maidens that have perished in the blue waves and left no sign of their sad fate--the bloody and mysterious seraglio is now deserted, save on such occasions as have been described--notwithstanding travellers' assertions to the contrary. how many of the royal blood, even sultans themselves, within this time-worn palace, have either drained the insidious and poisoned potion, or been dispensed with by the surer cord, or assassin's dagger! the last victim was sultan mustafa, or the uncle of the present monarch; and mahmoud himself was miraculously preserved by the attachment and perseverance of his lala or eunuch, who concealed him in the fire-place of the bath, until the fury of the mob had subsided--thus saving him, whom allah had reserved for the proud distinction of being the savior and regenerator of his country. no wonder, then, that the sultans of later times have recoiled from such associations and built for themselves other palaces on the bright and smiling shores of the "ocean stream." abd-ul-medjid has just erected a magnificent residence opposite the entrance to the marmora, the palace of dolma bahché. chapter xxi. romance of the east. the ordinary course of events, the humdrum monotonous tinkling of life's daily and ever recurring necessities, is wearisome to the soul. there is a longing for variety; the love of the marvelous craves wherewith to slake its thirst, the imagination seeks its food, and the beautiful, in fancy or reality, must sometimes minister its soothing charms. anything to escape from the physical, cumbersome part of our nature, into the world of romance and visionary exultation. war and its glory, its sudden vicissitudes of victory and defeat, its brilliant arms and thundering voices excite the most thrilling emotions in the bosoms of care-worn mortals. love, with its gentle wooing, its kind sympathies, and tender ministry, comes to the heart, sick of itself, as the very balm of gilead. religion calls the crushed and bleeding spirit to an unseen world, where fancy may luxuriate in realms of ethereal anticipations, anon to become the realities of faith, as the soul is discharged from its mortal tenement. it is, under any guise, a blissful attribute, this ability to soar out of life's dullness, into scenes of imaginary hope and brightness: to escape from the real into the unreal, whether to deeds of heroic valor, whose charm consists in the extravagance of the excitement, or to linger in the enchantments of a tender passion, or to listen to the tales of others' woes or joys: all these kindle up the enthusiasm of the soul. but is there ever any reality to what may be termed romance? if, as some would fain have us believe, the very objects which seem so tangible to our senses, are no realities, what then of the vagaries of the imagination? the moment you reduce the most thrilling incident to mere matter of fact, or divest it of the garb in which fancy ever delights to clothe its objects, the romance loses its charm. the more remote the scene, the more unfettered by conventionalities the actors, the more bewitching the tale of their adventures, and the more impossible the achievements, the better prized. even the aid of genii and fairies wonderfully helps on this love of the marvelous. what was aladdin's lamp more than any other old piece of copper ore, until the slave of the lamp suddenly appeared. there has ever hung over the east, a veil of mystery; it may be from the warmth of the oriental imagination and its own extravagant creations, or from the seclusiveness of the women, who, as they became unfamiliar objects, seemed to be the very venuses and peris of the world of fable. the reserve of the men themselves, leaving their better halves to an obliviousness from all the world, is calculated to excite the curiosity of the community at home, and the rest of the world abroad, and to invest the fair sex with most improbable charms. the difficulty and imminent danger of a single interview, excites the love of adventure. tottering old crones, themselves the genuine antidotes to all passion, point with their bony fingers to the penetralia, where a goddess in human form enshrines her charms. even a transformation takes place, a new complexion is produced, feminine draperies and a basket of wares, and you pass the unsuspecting and smooth-faced guardian of the portal. you love to linger in the sweetly perfumed halls, to toy with the beautiful circassian, as she listlessly lounges on her silken couch; you love even the sense of danger, as you start at every step, and again relax into forgetfulness of the external world. but sometimes there is a sequel; you fly for life; your lovely companion bares her neck to the bow-string, her beautiful form enters the mystic veil of the lost woman; the coarse and heavy sack, her coffin--her grave the blue and briny wave of the ocean stream. all this is wild, romantic, thrilling, and tragic. but how rare the occurrence; and of the multitude of adventure-loving, romance-seeking beings that people earth's surface, to whose lot shall we assign the realization? all dream; but how few wake to the vision in life's action. all fancy; but when does not the broad sunshine of earth's glare dispel the wreathed and mistlike draperies of imagination. the ideal has an existence only in the "mind's eye." there is, then, no more romance in the east than elsewhere; indeed there is even more of natural life divested of all extravagance of fiction. the very lack of education, which, in some respects, is certainly to be lamented, tends to fasten their hearts together, in the bonds of nature's best affections. home has joys enough for their simple souls; so entirely devoid of that refined selfishness, which in other lands seems to annihilate those sweet provisions for kindred sympathies, which arise from the reciprocal affinities of parent and child, brother and sister. there is little food then for morbid imaginations, but much for natural pleasures and simple tastes. the very externals of orientalism are making their exit from the world's scene; soon there will not exist even the illusion of characteristic and graceful forms. ere long we shall realize, that, divested of form and coloring, of tinsel and decoration, the descendants of the great common ancestor of the human race, are all alike in feature, nature, and spirit. indeed a general acquaintance with the different tribes and nations under heaven only serves to convince the cosmogonist, that all are of one family, have a common nature or origin, are but human, and liable to human frailties and passions. the most powerful emotions are felt in the bosoms of the savage and the polite. ambition, love, hatred, revenge, and a like train of absorbing impulses, rule and sway wherever man has planted his footsteps. but how interesting to mark the influence of circumstances, to define the latitudes and longitudes of ideas and actions, to measure the rise and fall of the thermometer of life, according to the various climes on earth's broad surface, to feel the pulse of the dissenting creeds and dogmas, in a word, to observe the same faculties under such varied culture. in comparing the different grades of education and civilization, it is curious to observe how often an innate refinement of feeling equals, if not supersedes, the greatest efforts of cultivation, or the brightest results of philosophy. a lifetime spent in the schools often leaves the man far behind one, whose early years have passed in shrewd observation, and practical experience, for while the one is reasoning, abstracting, ruminating, the other experiments, and lo! he enters the very penetralia of the temple of wisdom. and where do we find the most susceptible hearts, the most poetical fancies, the purest aspirations of nature? not among the dry and tutored reasoners of civilization, but where the mind of man has been untrammeled by rules and etiquettes, forms and ceremonies. chapter xxii. the harem. we cannot deny that habit is second nature--the axiom holds good in every form of social existence; yet there is a universal disposition to mutual criticism and condemnation, whether between nations or neighbors. there is always the vibrating why and wherefore, and each, approves his own course of action, without ceding to others the same privilege. there is no doubt that the peculiar style of the toilet of the turkish ladies would be deprecated by the belles of modern christendom. indeed, we have often heard these fastidious dames exclaim, in regarding representations of their eastern rivals, "most horribly indecent," while they turned their sensitive vision from the offenders against all delicacy. and, on the other hand, we have heard the osmanli hanums and efendis express equal honor at the sight of a european lady, en costume de bal. when the marchioness of londonderry presented herself at the palace of the sultan, en grand tenue for a reception, the gentlemen in waiting could scarcely persuade themselves to conduct her ladyship into the royal presence, so astonished were they at the display of the fair neck, shoulders, etc. both the western and eastern toilets may be styled décolletées, the one a horizontal, the other a longitudinal display of charms. but one thing may be said in favor of the orientals, that they never appear in public without covering their necks and bosoms, and even veiling their features; they are only permitted to appear uncovered at home, and even then only in the presence of their nearest relatives. on the contrary, on the most public occasions, at the operas, balls, soirées, and many other grand assemblies, do the western décolletées delight to vie with each other in their various styles of full dress; they are even so fastidious as to have no nomenclature but ankles, while they willingly pay their dollars to see a full extension of these same ankles on the stage. the turkish ladies with perfect indifference present their unslippered and even unhosed feet to any shop-boy, at the same time carefully concealing their shalvar, or full trowsers, which are fastened below the knee, and tucked up whenever they sally forth for a promenade à pied ou en voiture. as to the intrinsic merit or real modesty of these different styles, peculiar tastes and prevailing modes can only decide; for habit is strong in its sway, and imitation is a kindred principle. therefore, there is neither vice nor virtue in walking in the footsteps of our predecessors, or each man or woman adopting the peculiar modes and customs of their own people. as fertile a brain may throb beneath a turban as a hat, as pure a form enshroud itself in a modest veil as lurks beneath the shadow of a parisian bonnet. what are externals but whims and caprices; it is the virtue of domestic institutions and daily habitudes that stamps the character of a people. european or american ladies may grace their boudoirs, models of beauty and excellence, and turkish hanums may, by the exercise of domestic virtues, equally adorn and ennoble the precincts of their harems. the word harem is familiar to most persons, but how grossly misunderstood. some have considered it as unmentionable to ears polite; while the votaries of pleasure, ever ready to indulge their longing fancies, have pictured it to themselves as the earthly realization of the paradise of mohammed. indeed many european authors in describing the licentious and corrupted courts of their own monarchs, have seemed to consider this term as the most distinguishing compendium of immorality. strange perversion, that the very word which inspires every oriental, whether mohammedan or christian, with the greatest respect, should suggest to the mind of a european only a system of concubinage and licentiousness. what then is harem? one peculiarity in the construction of society in its primitive condition was that might makes right. this not only affected personal property, but even the more domestic relations. if an enemy strong enough felt the inclination, he might rob his neighbor of his wife or family, of which there are instances on biblical record. to avoid any occasions of such unjust appropriation, it became a policy to seclude the women from general observation. the unbounded hospitality of those good old days when the worthy patriarchs lived with open doors, and good cheer; when the three virtues which made a man distinguished, were bravery, eloquence, and hospitality, or in the hyperbole of the times, a sharp sword, a sweet tongue, and forty tables; in such an era of benevolence it became necessary to separate the more precious and defenseless portion of the family from the vulgar gaze. the seclusion of women, then, has ever been one of the greatest social peculiarities of the east, and does not date its origin from modern times, nor even from the foundation of the moslem faith. in some forms, it existed in the times of the ancient jews; for, when rebecca lifted up her eyes and saw isaac, who had gone out to meditate in the field at even tide, she said unto the servant, "what man is this, who walketh in the field to meet us?" and the servant said, "it is my master, therefore she took a veil and covered herself." "the mother of sisera looked out at a window, and cried through the lattice." the same institution existed among the arabs from time immemorial, so that mohammed was not the originator of this separation of women from general society, but rather the sustainer of an old and established usage, which the condition of the community in his times, rendered imperative. "speak unto the true believers, that they restrain their eyes, and keep themselves from immodest actions. this will be more pure for them, for god is well acquainted with that which they do; and speak unto the believing women, that they restrain their eyes, and preserve their modesty, and discover not their ornaments (personal charms), except what necessarily appeareth thereof; and let them throw their veils over their bosoms, and not show their ornaments, unless to their husbands or their fathers, or their husband's fathers, or their sons, or their husband's sons, or their brother's sons, or unto such as attend them and have no need of women, or unto children who distinguish not the nakedness of men." supposing then society were on a different basis, according to these tenets, the women would be perpetually veiled, and the men ever wandering with averted eyes. in order to remedy these evils, and facilitate their seclusion, the houses are all divided into two sets of apartments, the selamluk, or men's apartment, and the harem, or the sanctuary of the women, where no men are allowed to enter, except those specified by the prophet. now, it is evident that the principle upon which society is constructed in the east, is the careful seclusion of women from the gaze of the world. the peculiar charm of modesty is known and acknowledged all over the world, as the domestic arrangements of civilized society everywhere demonstrate. the greeks of homer's day had their gynaikeion, the romans, in imitation, their gynæceum; and modern civilization has created its boudoir; but none of these terms are as expressive of the sanctity of the abode, as the word harem of the orientals. it is well known that the cities of mecca and medina are the holy shrines of the mohammedan faith. no other appellative is used in speaking of them, but the same word harem, which, when used in the plural, in itself comprises these venerated cities. they say, hadjj-ul-haremein, or pilgrim of the two harems, meaning the holy mecca and medina. this word is applied to the temple itself at mecca, which is honored by the title of mesjad-el-harem, the sacred or inviolable temple. thus some idea may be formed of the etymology of the term and its sacred signification, when used by the arabs and other orientals, to designate their firesides or family homes; the sanctity of which, not only admits of no intrusion, but any summons or interruption to the master of the family after he has once retired, is considered indecorous. mohammed received a revelation regarding himself, while he was engaged in his harem preparing the koran. some persons had the rudeness to call him out. in order to reprove them, and like sinners in all times to come, the following passage was revealed: "the interior of thy dwelling is a sanctuary; they who violate it by calling unto thee, are deficient in the respect which they owe to the interpreter of heaven." this passage has not only rendered the interior of the dwelling, viz. the harem, an inviolable asylum to the female portion of the family, but it has made it a convenient place of refuge to pashas and efendis, where they often seek repose from the multitude of unwelcome visitors who infest, with perfect freedom, and at all hours, their selamluks. the frequent visits of the osmanlis to their harems, are not always indications of the attractions within, but other external motives may impel them thither; nevertheless, the inviolability of these precincts has induced the supposition that they contained naught but the shrine of the fair goddess of beauty, and her sly coadjutor. the upper part of a house in america, or those rooms appropriated to the exclusive use of the ladies, are as sacred and inviolable as any oriental harem; and are not, as a matter of course, supposed to be the scenes of mystery and intrigue. indeed, it is fully evident that the same spirit of deference to the comfort of the fair sex, exists in america, where is seen over one of the principal entrances to the general post-office, the announcement, "exclusively for ladies," which in turkey would be intimated by the single and expressive word harem. again the "ladies' cabin" on board the steamers would, in the east, be designated by the word harem, written in golden characters, which would at once indicate its sacred nature, and inspire every oriental with the respect due to the sex, which is even more imperative in that clime than in other lands, where they make a glory and boast of their excessive deference to the fairer portion of the community. hence how erroneous the impression, that the harem is a species of female prison, established by the tyranny of men, where the weaker sex are forcibly shut up against their will. if the osmanli ladies were under no other restrictions, their own sense of self-respect, based upon time-hallowed usage, and inculcated by the precepts of their religion, would compel them to the same seclusion. i one day happened to be in the dressing room of a pasha, adjoining the harem; when he left the room for a moment. in the interval, his daughter, supposing her father quite alone, suddenly entered the apartment; but on seeing me there, instinctively covering her face with the drapery of her sleeve, as suddenly disappeared. while i myself as instinctively displayed my sense of the courtesy due to a lady, by looking as far as i could in an opposite direction. i heard her remarking to the slaves in the next room, that she was so mortified, for, instead of seeing her father there stood ---as large as life. her feeling at being seen without the precincts of the harem unveiled, was the same as would be experienced by a lady of this country, who should be surprised by the sight of a gentleman, when she was en toilette de nuit! nor is this seclusion entirely mohammedan, but being an ancient custom of the east, it is practised by all who dwell in that clime. the families of the rayas, or non-mussulman subjects of the porte, consisting of the armenians, greeks, and jews, are also under the same social laws as their mohammedan compatriots. it is true, that in proportion as european customs have found their way into these countries, the rigidity of the christians has relaxed in this respect; because the observance in question has never been incorporated with their religion; whereas mohammed, on the contrary, took special pains to enforce the practice upon his followers. the word harem being by courtesy applied also to its inmates, has now become a general term to designate the female portion of the family, and is by no means synonymous with polygamy, otherwise the same expression would not be used by the christian subjects in speaking of their domestic relations. it would be said that a certain pasha or an armenian banker had gone to a distant place without his harem, or family. an osmanli lady, on being informed of the arrival of an american minister in constantinople, would naturally inquire whether he was accompanied by his harem, or family. chapter xxiii condition of women. it is fortunate that the less enlightened members of the human family are unconscious of their comparative inferiority--and are ignorant of the bliss to which the more sublimated specimens of humanity are constantly aspiring, and even rendering themselves discontented with real life, as destiny has accorded it to them. the actual condition of women in the east is not then so much to be lamented, as their ideal of happiness so essentially differs from that of other portions of the fair sex in europe or america. as no other philosophy has yet crept into their minds, they dream not of "woman's rights," "free love" or "equality of the sexes," and calmly content themselves with the rights of nature, and the relative position which has ever existed among their simple and patriarchal ancestors. the osmanlis have not yet deviated from the form of family government which nature dictated to them. the venerable father, who has guided his children through youth, and even counseled them in maturer years, is the monarch in the family circle--the dei penates are no creations of myth--but are embodied in the one and sacred title of pater familias. each son, as he succeeds to the paternal duties, is invested with the robes of veneration and respect. thus the male branches of the household have a prior rank, which is unconsciously recognized by the women and younger members of the family. the laws even allow to the son double the share of inheritance that they do to the daughters, because of the heavy responsibilities which may devolve upon him in future by the death of the father. there is not, therefore, the most distant suspicion in their composition that females are equal to males, or girls to boys. it is as if the members of the body should revolt, and the hands and feet proclaim themselves superior, or even equal, to the head. the women of turkey know very well, and gracefully submit to facts, which are stubborn things. they never think of denying that "women first were made for men, not men for them." there are countries where the condition of woman is indeed miserable, and where, also, they are unconscious of their own degradation, and willingly toil and drudge in the service of men; content with the slightest proofs of affection with which their lords may honor them--indeed, any concession to their woman nature is thankfully received. to be bought and sold is a matter of course. in china, the purchased wife is suddenly transported into the family of a man, whose name even she has never heard. there she is the slave of the whole establishment. the husband may beat her with impunity, reduce her to a state of starvation, or hire her out, if he fancies to do so. the hindoo forces her to immolate herself on her husband's funeral pile--after having spent a lifetime in his slavery and service. such barbarities are unknown in turkey. for in no country in the world are mothers more respected, wives more tenderly cherished, and children more idolized. if, in the relative position of the sexes, men rank above women, it is because the man is considered as the vital principle, and the woman the material. hence the man loves and cherishes the woman, who in return regards him with reverence and respect; and any deviation from these reciprocal affections, would be considered as the greatest breach of decorum. there are certain acts of politeness which devolve altogether upon the lords of creation in the most exquisitely civilized regions of the world, which are however sometimes reluctantly performed--but, as usual, such matters are reversed in the east, where even the sun rises at a different hour. there the efendi graciously receives a glass of water at the hands of his too happy hanum; his pipe and his coffee are gracefully served by some fair hebe of a wife or sister, who naturally considers herself as the helpmeet for her spouse, as did eve, the first and fairest of woman kind. the reluctance they feel to have their ladies appear in general society does not arise from any want of deference and respect on the part of the men, but rather from an intuitive desire to guard and protect them from public scandal. as the osmanlis enshrine the objects of their affection in the recesses of their own hearts, so they love to guard them from all contact of a selfish world. indeed, moore has beautifully expressed their feelings in the warblings of the peri, "no pearl ever lay under oman's green water, more pure in its shell, than thy spirit in thee." they feel so sensitive on this score, that they do not make their harems a subject of conversation. even the most distant allusion to this part of their establishment would consequently be, not only indelicate, but also an infringement of etiquette--so that the ordinary questions, such as "how are madam and the ladies," or according to irish vocabulary, "how's yer wife and the gals," would cause the lord of the house to redden with astonishment. as a further proof of the respect a man is supposed to feel for his family, his enemy, when wishing to touch him to the quick, in cursing him, only utters maledictions against his wife, mother, or sister. a man may be publicly executed, but a woman is sacked, entirely out of respect. a turkish lady is eminently queen of her own dominions, sometimes even a despot--and most independent on all occasions, both public and private. it is not necessary for ladies to be attended by their husband or any other gentleman when they go out; public sentiment entirely protects them; for, if any one should accost them rudely, the commonest citizen would immediately turn avenger. when the ladies are attended by servants and eunuchs, they are only appendages of rank and distinction. they seem, indeed, to be a privileged class. wherever they appear the men must retire--and woe to the man who ventures upon a warfare of words with a turkish woman; for her tongue has no bounds, and her slipper is a ready weapon of chastisement; and no man would dare to repel the attack. the convenience of the slipper as a ready means of self-defence, seems to have been familiar in the days of the old classics, for, the roman poet says: "et soleâ pulsare nates," and doubtless many of the rising generation can testify to its abuse, even in these days of modern improvement. the very whims and caprices which seem indigenous to the fair sex, are tolerated as a matter of course with philosophic resignation, as they are instructed by the koran, "if ye be kind towards women and fear to wrong them, god is well acquainted with what ye do." they have a proverb also which supplants all reasoning on such occasions. "satchi-ouzoun, akli-kissa." long hair, short brains. to salute a lady, or in any way accost her, in public would be an act of consummate rudeness; even a husband would pass by his wife and family with an air of affected indifference. certainly such a neglect of the fair sex would be unpardonable in europe and this country, but on the contrary, in the east, it only evinces the greatest deference and respect. nevertheless, the mohammedans have been most maliciously reported by ignorant writers on the east, to hold that women have no souls; or if they have, that they will perish like those of brute beasts. this assumption is founded upon the promise of the prophet, that the faithful shall be provided with black-eyed houris in paradise. if this excludes the mussulman women from paradise, we may reasonably place the christian ladies in the same category, for they are assured in the gospel that "there will be no marrying nor giving in marriage in heaven." on the contrary, houris are but an addition to the earthly wives of the mussulmans, and the faithful are assured that "god promiseth unto the true believers, both men and women, gardens through which rivers flow, wherein they shall remain for ever," and that "whoso doth good works, whether he be male or female, and is a true believer, shall be admitted into paradise, and shall not in the least be unjustly dealt with." chapter xxiv. personal appearance and costume. the first years of the life of every girl are spent both in the harem and selamluk (or men's apartment), indiscriminately. the female children being then allowed free access to the society of the men, they imbibe certain notions in their youth, which are not always consistent with refinement. as there is not in the selamluk, the restraint which the presence of ladies always imposes, the manners and conversation of the men are often but ill calculated to nurture a sense of delicacy in the minds of the children, who mingle so freely with them. nevertheless, they seem to possess an innate sense of propriety, and are never deficient in politeness of deportment. every girl is permitted to attend either the public schools, or to receive private instruction at home, until she is eight or ten years of age, when she is no longer allowed the freedom of her childhood. very little learning is acquired by them, the language being difficult, and the mode of instruction altogether unsystematical; so that for all future years they retain their simplicity, and are but overgrown children. their minds having had no culture, the senses assume entire dominion over them, and their time is spent either in adorning their persons, or in etiquetical observances, by which they hope to render themselves more bewitching to the lords of creation. as in all other countries, fashion is regulated by the court, so at constantinople it is controlled by the ladies of the palace. their costume, according to the oriental taste, always consisting of long flowing robes, may be supposed to admit of no change; but on the contrary, the ladies having little other occupation, delight in varying the shape and style of their dress. sometimes the hair is worn long, again cropped short. a fess with flossy tassel is one day the mode, and a fantastic turban is adopted the next morning. the sleeves are long and wide, and again their drapery is dispensed with, and they are confined at the wrist. the entary, or dress, is invariably cut high, either closed around the neck, or left open in front; it is made long, trailing about a yard below the person; sometimes left open at the sides to the hips, and at others, made wide, and sewed up as low as the ankles. the shalvar, or full trowsers, are made to match the dress, and again of varied and contrasting hues. there in a great variety in the fashion for trimming the dresses and handkerchiefs, which generally are adorned with most exquisite embroideries in silk or gold, as may suit the mode, or taste of the wearer. sometimes an immense cashmere shawl is wound round the waist; at others, a light gauze scarf, or belt of gold, with a clasp adorned with brilliants, serves for a girdle. no turkish lady can dispense with jewelry, and even women of the lowest rank adorn themselves with diamonds. abundant occupation is afforded to the jewellers by the constant transformation of their bijouterie; for one day the capricious beauties fancy a star or a crescent, and the next, nothing will suit their toilet but a large spray of brilliants. the number of the ladies in the royal palace and in other wealthy harems, all of whom are bedecked in elegant and costly costumes, causes a demand for the services of many merchants, through whom the last new fashion is immediately promulgated. their beauty is such, however, that it might well afford to be unadorned, for their complexions are generally exceedingly fair, and of the most delicate softness; owing to the constant use of the bath, as well as the protection of the yashmack, or veil, without which they never go abroad. their features are very regular, and their almond shaped eyes, so much sung by their poets, are dark and lustrous, and so valued for their size, that the enjoyment of the great-eyed ladies is promised by mohammed as one of the sublimest joys of paradise. the power of these electric and darkly beautiful orbs is so terrible, that woe to those upon whom they are turned, for, as pertev pasha, one of their celebrated poets, has described: "on the point of each ray that is darted from those bright meteors, there is a bloody slaughter house," or as the french would expressively say, "un regard assassin." exquisitely arched eyebrows are also so essential to their ideas of beauty, that they are never contented, till by the repeated application of artificial means, they raise their brows to a lofty semicircle. beauty spots, or moles, are considered of great value; and if nature has proved niggard in this respect, art is brought into requisition to produce the same contrasting effect between the tiny circle of jetty hue and the surrounding fairness. the poet hafiz has sung their value in flowing numbers, offering the wealth of semerkand and bokhara for the possession of the indian mole on the cheek of the fair beauty of shiraz. the tips of their fingers and toes are frequently stained with henna, producing the roseate hue so much à la mode. their forms and movements are graceful, being under no artificial restraints; and there is an exquisite charm about them as they languidly lounge on their silken couches, or glide about from room to room in long flowing robes, and slip-shod shup-shups. well has the illustrious bard portrayed the varied charms of the eastern houris: "many and beautiful lay those around, like flowers of different hue and clime, and root, in some exotic garden sometimes found, with cost, and care, and warmth, induced to shoot." considering their limited education, it is delightful to listen to the melodious tone of their voices, as they speak with remarkable purity the harmonious turkish language. notwithstanding their lack of learning, there have been some among the ladies renowned for their poetical productions, such as leyla and fitnett hanums, justly celebrated for their exquisite poetry. chapter xxv. domestic arrangements. the interior arrangements of the turkish apartments and their furniture, are very peculiar, and quite unlike those of european or american drawing rooms, being entirely adapted to the habits and tastes of the orientals. there is never any doubt or hesitation as to the place suitable to be occupied by any one who may happen to enter a room; nor is it possible to mistake the different ranks of its occupants. generally there is a sofa on three sides of the room, sufficiently ample to accommodate the ladies in their style of sitting, which is not cross-legged as is usually represented in pictures, but with the limbs folded under their persons and carefully concealed by the drapery of their long robes; for to show these parts of the person while sitting, is considered a great breach of etiquette. hence no osmanli lady is ever to be seen perched on the very edge of the sofa, but leaving her slippers on the floor, she steps upon the couch and gracefully bending her knees, sits reclining against the cushions behind her. on the floor, at the foot of the sofa, are placed mattresses, furnished with cushions, and these are called erkean mindery or seats of homage, where humbler visitors or members of the family are allowed to place themselves. the angles or corners of the sofa, are regarded as the seats of honor, and the places on either side, rank in regular succession down to the seat of homage; but the most honorable person in the company may, at her or his option, occupy any part of the couch, when the rest place themselves on each side according to their own rank. the servants are always present, and stand in a row at the lower end of the room, their arms humbly folded on their girdles, attentive to the slightest nod of their superiors. there are several windows on each of the three sides of the room, so as to permit a full view of the surrounding scenery, while they are seated; for the osmanlis are very fond of sunlight and the beauties of nature. the windows of the harem are all furnished with close lattices, permitting those within to see without being seen. the more modernized salons, have only a sofa on one side, european couches, chairs, tables, and mirrors, being substituted for the other sofas. they also endeavor to imitate the europeans in the style of the window draperies, which are often of the most brilliant hues. there is one peculiarity in the oriental houses. you may wander from one end to the other and not see a single bed-room or any of its appurtenances--which has induced many persons to report them as sleeping on the sofas, and never dressing or undressing. it would, however, seem more natural to suppose, that the osmanlis never had any but day dreams. the fact is, that the beds are all packed away in large closets during the day-time, and spread upon the floor at night. in the houses of the wealthy, the mattresses and coverlets are made of the richest materials, and the sheets of beautiful silk gauze, manufactured in broossa. the whole appearance of the bed, so brilliant in hue, and rich in ornament, is very different from the style of a european couch. every house has an infinite number and variety of extra beds and bedding, to be spread on the floors of any of the apartments, for the accommodation of visitors--hospitality being one of the most religious precepts and observances of the orientals. in the sultan's palace, however, and in the families of the wealthy, especially of those pashas who have resided in europe, bedsteads have been introduced. upon rising, the person claps her hands, as the apartments are never furnished with bell ropes, and immediately the attendants appear--one holding the basin, another the ewer, and a third presenting the towel, richly embroidered at the ends. the usual method of warming the houses, is by the mangal and tandur. the mangal is generally made of brass highly polished, somewhat in the form of an hour-glass, about a foot and a half high, and two, or two and a half in diameter; and contains a large pan of ignited charcoal. the tandur consists of a wooden frame about the height and size of a table, lined with tin, under which a pan of fire is placed, and the whole is covered with a thickly wadded quilt. this is surrounded by sofas, and they sit with their legs and feet under the covering. more cozy than any capacious arm-chair, or softly yielding fauteuil, is this same tandur. the genial warmth excites a wonderful sympathy in its occupants. they warm to each other, and to the world in general, and never neglect to take cognizance of their neighbor's affairs and doings. from the palace of the sultan to the cottage of the crone, they benignantly travel, bestowing on each and all a blessing, or when necessary, even a cursing. the ups and downs of pashas, probable and accomplished--whispers of the sultan's favorites, or of the efendi's coquettish ladies--the style of adilé sultan's feradjé, or the grand vezir's fess, are each and all passed in review, until you wonder how ever a set of miserable imprisoned women should be such arrant gossips. ah! one cannot believe the fair sex so unjust to themselves, even in turkey, as to neglect the observation of those interesting little items of public or retired life, which become great and weighty affairs, when discussed by ruby lips, and in the cadence of sweet-toned voices. they possess a most lady-like love of chit-chat, and so little do they covet repose for their delicate jaws, that should conversation lag, they keep them in motion by the use of mastic, which is always in readiness, preserved in little jewelled boxes. it is only of late years, that those hot, repelling machines called stoves, have been introduced; but they have by no means superseded the social and old-fashioned tandur, whose warmth, and luxurious cushions, often beguile its occupants to slumber, during which the fire is overturned, and thus occur many of the conflagrations so frequent in turkey. there are two occasions when the still air resounds with the echoes of human voices. the chant of the muezzin from the minaré, slowly and musically vibrating through the atmosphere, enticing all to linger at the casement or in the thoroughfare to catch its melodious accents; and the terrible cry of yangun var! fire! fire! accompanied by the reverberations of the watchman's club striking upon the pavement. a thrill of horror pervades every heart, for there are no bounds to the devouring element. there are two towers, one at the seraskér's in the city itself, and the other on the galata hill, which command an extensive isometrical view of the whole metropolis and its suburbs. here guards are stationed, who descry the first indications of fire, and immediately give, from the top of the towers, the requisite signal, by hoisting, in the day-time, an immense globe, painted red, and at night by producing a bright and steady light--these signals remain until the fire is extinguished. at candilly, on the asiatic shore of the bosphorus, and half way up the stream, there are a battery and a flag-staff stationed on the mountain top called kenan-tepessy; as soon as the signals are seen, the fire globe ascends the flag-staff, and the battery discharges a certain number of guns, according to the locality of the conflagration. from the towers, detailed officers, neöbetgees, are dispatched to the different ministers, and guard houses, where the engines are kept, who create a tremendous sensation, as they rush wildly about, brandishing their batons of office, and with a protracted yell, warning every one to clear the way. the different bekgees or district watchmen, now take up the cry--striking their iron-shod clubs on the pavement and repeating with all the power of their lungs yangun-var! stambolda! or there is fire at stamboul. the firemen assemble at their respective quarters, and shouldering their engines, rush to the scene. these firemen receive no pay, but are exempt from taxes and allowed certain other privileges--yet they always manage to extort certain compensations for their services, from the victims of the devastating element. the engines are small and portable, on account of the narrowness and steepness of the streets, nor is there any connexion-hose attached to them, the water being supplied with buckets; yet it is astonishing how much they effect even with such inadequate means. the inflammable materials of which the houses are constructed, the narrow streets, winding up the hillside like foot-paths, the irregular and projecting dwellings, from which the people could shake hands with their opposite neighbors, if it were only the fashion in turkey, contribute to make a most desirable promenade for the fire-king when he sallies forth. the flames leap from house to house; the burning cinders fly in all directions, and the fire kindles at many and distant points; so that in less than half an hour, a large district is often wrapt in flames. the general panic is so intense, that the whole community is roused; the pashas desert their couches, and even the sultan himself sometimes repairs to the scene, to animate, by his presence, the efforts of the desperate firemen. chapter xxvi. social intercourse. it seems something of an anomaly that a race of beings so distinguished for selfishness, should be so exceedingly social in their inclinations. birds of a feather flock together, and man loves his fellow, though he loves himself better. to prevent the inroad of this extreme selfishness, certain forms and ceremonies are established in every community where there is any interchange of mutual civilities. oriental life has many distinguishing peculiarities and characteristic forms of politeness, but unlike other parts of the globe, etiquette in the east is permanent and general. the mental accomplishments being but few, wealth seems to constitute the only aristocratic distinction, while the poorest and the richest are equally well versed in the established routine of civility. it is curious to observe the native refinement even of the lower classes in turkey. there is no gaucherie, no reluctance in any one to do the right thing in the right way and place; no fear of being unlike other distinguished personages in manners and customs; for there is no doubt as to the prescribed and most elegant style of conduct; even the salutations, compliments and congratulations are most carefully worded, and any deviation from the formula would destroy the intended effect. there is, consequently, no lack of social etiquette among the osmanlis. a visitor is received according to her station in life, and after being announced, is met by the lady of the house with her suite, at the head of the staircase, or at the door of the saloon, or sometimes by merely stepping down from the sofa, as may be demanded by the rank of the guest. there is no ceremony of introducing one person to another, nor is there any shaking of hands. the company salute each other without any regard to previous acquaintance; and the younger members of society always kiss the hem of the garment, or the hands of their superiors in rank and age. the manner of salutation varies--those of equal rank endeavor to kiss the hem of each other's garments, or only exchange temennas. the temenna, which has already been described, is a graceful salutation, and is used as frequently as thank you by the english; serving as an acknowledgment for all compliments and kind inquiries. when one thinks of the innumerable occasions on which this expressive temenna is called into action, it seems as if a whole chapter would scarcely suffice to describe them all. but we will content ourselves with its demonstration upon the arrival of a guest among a company of some fifteen or twenty persons. as soon as the visitor is seated, the lady welcomes her guest by a temenna--which is acknowledged by the same signal, and reiterated by each person in the company successively, according to her rank. now another round commences. the lady of the house makes a new temenna, which signifies, "how do you do?" another temenna from the visitor, is equivalent to an acknowledgment of thanks, who with the same gesture, intimates a desire to know the state of her hostess's health. the whole company then in succession follow suit, to each of whom the visitor replies in the same way. this quaker-meeting style of receiving company, might be ludicrously illustrated in american society, by substituting bows for temennas--if, indeed, the ladies could be expected to preserve the requisite silence and gravity of demeanor. in turkey, every attention or compliment, brings its train of temennas, and it is much to be regretted that no mathematician has yet arisen in turkey, capable of producing a regular formula for their exact computation. the meddahs, however, or the famous story-tellers of the east, who are the best critics, sometimes endeavor to exhibit the danger of too great an excess in this act of politeness. they say there was once a worthy hodja or schoolmaster, who was very punctilious. desirous that all his scholars should realise the importance of true politeness, he insisted that when he drank water, not a single one of them should omit to exclaim with a respectful temenna, afiyet olsoun hodja efendy, or may it do you much good, respected master--and when he sneezed, they were all to clap their hands, and vociferate hayr ola hodja efendy, or good luck to the master. the means employed by this worthy schoolmaster to enforce his lessons, may be readily guessed by others of the same profession; but that the desired effect was produced, there is no doubt. there was a deep well, from which the scholars had to draw water for their own use. one day, it was reported to the teacher that the bucket had fallen in the well, who, after many vain attempts to fish it up, resolved to descend by means of a rope, and the scholars were called upon to assist in his descent and ascent. the hodja was accordingly lowered down into the well, and at a given signal, the boys began to pull him up. but as he approached the mouth of the well, the change of the atmosphere titillating his nostrils, unfortunately made him sneeze; when the well-trained pupils, instinctively making the temenna, and clapping their hands, let go the rope and shouted, "hayr ola hodja efendy," good luck to the master. but, retournons nous à nos moutons. after the visitor is seated, and the usual temennas are exchanged, long chibouks with amber mouthpieces, set in diamonds, are offered by the halayiks or slaves; after which, sweetmeats are served upon a silver tray, with goblets of water, and then coffee. this beverage is served in small porcelain cups, in stands of silver or gold, sometimes enamelled and set in diamonds--which ceremony is thus poetically described by lord byron: "and mocha's berry, from arabia pure, in small fine china cups, came in at last; gold cups of filagree, made to secure the hand from burning, underneath them placed." although there are certain ceremonies which are never omitted as matters of form, their intercourse with each other is most unsophisticated. mutual criticism, and inspection of toilets, catechising about prices, etc., are indulged in as matters of course, and if by chance the guest is a european lady, the scrutiny is the more intense; so that those who desire to visit turkish harems, must go prepared to undergo the most thorough examination with smiles and good humor; the only satisfaction being a genuine retaliation upon the fair hanums, who would feel exceedingly flattered thereby, and by no means dream of being offended. the whole establishment is shown to visitors, as one way of entertaining them; and frequently they get up a dance among themselves, or call in the dancing girls with their castanets. upon intimation of departure, sherbet is served; after which the visit is terminated, and the guest reconducted in the same manner in which she was chapter xxvii. polygamy. it is true that a harem is generally composed of an assemblage of women, but not such as the public usually imagine. although the mussulmans are allowed by the koran to have several wives, there are few who have more than one, especially at the present day; a fact not to be, however, attributed to any new code of morality, but rather to the coercion of circumstances. it was the practice of the arabs to have eight or ten wives, whom they were seldom able to maintain. mohammed, wishing to remedy this evil, and not altogether to abolish ancient usages, limited the number--"take in marriage of such women as please you, two, or three or four, and not more. but if ye fear that ye cannot act equitably to so many, marry only one, or the slaves which ye shall have acquired." they were allowed to marry a greater number of slaves, as their dowry was much smaller, and they were maintained in a very different style from the free women. as the osmanlis have a remarkable love of offspring, it often happens that a man having had no children by a wife, and unwilling to divorce her, which is considered discreditable, takes a second one in imitation of abraham and jacob and many other patriarchs of old, whose practices were but the type of the habits of all oriental people, even those of the present day. but such a step being often the source of domestic difficulty, the substitution of a slave in the place of a second wife is generally preferred--and such slaves are retained in the harem with the appellation of odaluk or handmaid, like hagar, bilhah, and zilpah. when these odaluks become mothers, by right of their maternity, they acquire their freedom and are considered second wives. a man may, however, be induced to contract a second marriage either from mercenary or ambitious motives. when circumstances or selfish inclinations induce the mussulmans to have several wives, they are obliged to assign to each one private apartments and attendants. these ladies, although often living under the same roof, visit each other with all the etiquette of perfect strangers, and require an expenditure for retinue and accommodations, which can only be sustained by wealth. besides all partiality being out of the question, there is great cause for jealousy among the different members of such establishments--and the less favored being ever ready for intrigue, conspire to render the husband most miserable and the sanctuary a perfect bedlam, and the ambition of a second wife sometimes can only be satisfied by the sacrifice of her rival. fethi ahmed pasha was so favored by the sultan that his majesty bestowed his sister upon him in marriage. notwithstanding this alliance with royalty, the wife and children of his humbler fortunes retained their place in his memory; but he could only visit them in secret. the author has, on several occasions, assisted to his incognito, as he left his state barge and proceeded en bourgeois in a small cayik, to visit the house of his affections. there is, therefore, every reason to believe that our mussulman friends will soon come to the conclusion, that, "polygamy may well be held in dread, not only as a sin, but as a bore:" notwithstanding then the toleration of polygamy by the prophet, it is evident that circumstances have combined to restrict this practice; and most particularly the abolition of the circassian slave-trade, to a certain extent, has created an effectual check to the use of odaluks--thus increasing the necessity of alliances between the members of different families which were formerly avoided; because the wife being surrounded and supported by her own relations, attained an undue share of domestic power and influence. especially when alliances are formed with royalty, the circumstances are most aggravating. the husband then becomes an abject slave, and has tacitly to submit to the caprices of his spouse. he cannot enter the harem of his sultana unless especially sent for; nor can he postpone his attendance to her summons no matter what his circumstances or occupation may be. the sultan's brother-in-law has often been seen, sleeping in a corner of a sofa at the selamluk, till two or three o'clock in the morning, awaiting the pleasure of his royal mistress--while she on her part was amusing herself in the harem with dancing girls, music, &c. the pasha's embarrassment has also been very evident when he has been obliged to leave the company abruptly; no apology being necessary on such occasions; the entrance of the sable messenger, with a single temenna intimating the absolute command of the royal wife, who generally dismisses her train of ladies and slaves before he makes his appearance. it is with the desire to avoid such petticoat government that the young men do not contract alliances with ladies of rank and distinction; preferring to marry their own slaves, or to content themselves with the odaluks which their mothers bestow upon them to keep them within the home circle, and out of mischief. sometimes they are forced to a second marriage by the bestowal of a bride from a superior in power whose orders they cannot refuse. a great number of women then in any harem is by no means a sure sign of the uxorious disposition of its master, but is rather an indication of his personal rank and wealth. for the osmanlis men and women are proverbially fond of display, they say "sense belongs to europe--wealth to india, beauty to georgia--but show and display are the attributes of the osmanlis alone." they therefore delight in all the appendages of luxury, and surround themselves with crowds of attendants. this oriental propensity has even been sustained by the prophet himself, who says, that "the very meanest in paradise will have 80,000 servants," &c. while, then, the gentleman in the selamluk, has his steward, treasurer, cup-bearer, pipe bearer, etc., the hanum on her part, has her own appropriate suite, which is in many instances more numerous than that of her efendy. this is particularly true with regard to the sultanas or sisters and daughters of the sultan, whose husbands are not allowed to behold the faces of any of the fair maidens in the royal train, except by special permission of the sultanas themselves. chapter xxviii. marriage and divorce. marriage is considered "honorable in all," but most especially among the osmanlis, who enter into this condition as they arrive at the age of puberty. the independent state of bachelorship is therefore unknown among them, or if such an accident should happen, the unfortunate gentleman is styled beekear, or useless member of society, which stigma it is needless to say they by no means covet; as for old maids, there is not a word in the language descriptive of that class of women. the preliminaries of all marriages are effected by the parents, who not only thus spare their children much trouble and embarrassment, but use all their own wisdom and experience of genuine terrestrial happiness in providing for their own offspring. besides, parental authority is supreme, and filial obedience equally innate, hence it never enters into the calculations of the young to weary themselves with the anticipatory illusions of love, though sometimes when old enough they join in the matrimonial deliberations. marriage is not a religious, but rather a civil contract among the mussulmans, and the ceremony is as simple as in protestant countries. this ceremony which is called nikeah, is effected by proxies, and there is always a fixed sum settled upon the bride, according to the condition of the party. this nikeah constitutes the legal marriage, but the bride does not go to her husband's home until three or four months have elapsed, at which time the friends assemble to partake of the nuptial festivities, which continue during four days, and always end on thursday, as the following day is the turkish sabbath. upon her arrival, the bride is met at the door of the harem, and conducted into the room by the bridegroom himself, who carries her up stairs in his arms, and placing her in the most honorable part of the sofa, raises her veil of tinsel, and takes the liberty, for the first time, to gaze upon the features of his beloved. separate establishments are almost unknown in turkey. the bride goes to the house of her husband's parents, so that the family circle often becomes very numerous. it occasionally happens that by special request, the bridegroom enters the family of his wife's parents; which, however, is considered a misfortune, for they say, "itch guveyeeden halludja" or any condition is preferable to that of a man married into a family. divorce. voltaire has observed, "le divorce est probablement de la même date à peu près que le mariage; je crois, pourtant, que le mariage est de quelques semaines plus ancien; c'est à dire qu'on se querella avec sa femme au bout de quinze jours, qu'on se battit au bout d'un mois, et qu'on s'en sépara après six semaines de cohabitation." if such be a true picture of human nature, it is not too highly drawn for a country where polygamy is practised, since it is no hard matter for a man to part with one wife, when he has several others. the privilege of divorce would be somewhat tyrannical if allowed only to the men, but in turkey, the women themselves may exercise this prerogative, if they are maltreated, or not properly provided for, with at least the requisite "bread and candles." a man may put away his wife merely by uttering in the hearing of a third party, the ominous word "bosh," null, void, which even if carelessly spoken renders the man and wife strangers to each other, the lady feeling obliged to assume her veil, and conceal her charms; and in case of reconciliation, a second marriage ceremony is necessary. the woman, on her part, has the privilege of leaving her husband, by declaring before the cadi, djanum azad, nikeahum helal--i forfeit my dowry, and claim my freedom. it is fortunate that divorce is very disreputable, and is seldom practised by either party if they have any respect for public opinion, or regard for themselves; otherwise, wives and husbands would be constantly changing hands, as was the practice among the old arabs, in the time of mohammed. this custom was decried by the prophet, "it shall not be lawful for thee to take other women to wife hereafter, nor to exchange any of thy wives for them." the moral effect of a facility of divorce is to keep both parties on their good behavior, but at the same time a spirit of extreme selfishness is induced in the women. for being in constant apprehension of a sudden separation, they look upon their husbands as a means of revenue, and endeavor to store up as much jewelry, clothing etc., as possible, to be ready in case of emergency. the display of shawls and diamonds upon the persons of women, even of the poorest classes, is not from a feeling of vanity, but rather an exhibition of the extent of the personal wealth they have extorted from their lords and masters. in case of separation, the children are supported until they are seven years old, by the father; after which the boys remain under the paternal care, and the girls belong to the mother; unless some other arrangement is made by mutual consent. the most unjust stigma of illegitimacy, is almost unknown in turkey; the children by slaves being as respectable and legitimate as those by the regular wives, and it is only when the father cannot be discovered that they are regarded as bastards. such principles are certainly right, and more humane than those of christian lands, where the innocent are taunted all their lifetime with the immoralities of others, for whose actions they are as irresponsible as "the babe unborn." chapter xxix. the sultan's harem. although there are more than 2,000 women in the palace, but five of these hold the rank of kaduns, or wives. mussulmans, in general, are allowed to have four wives, but sultans can have seven. their superiority to ordinary men is thus attested, and the chance made surer of an heir to the throne. it will, therefore, be perceived that polygamy, in the case of a sultan, is a matter of policy, and not choice; for even should he content himself with one wife, the state would interfere. the design of limiting his majesty's wives to seven, is to spare the state the enormous expense attendant upon the maintenance of so many ladies of royal rank. the present sultan, however, in asserting his prerogative, has limited the number to five, which, while it shows his power to exceed the restrictions upon other mussulmans, at the same time, displays an inclination not to burden the state too heavily with his private expenses. it is true he has had children by several others, whom custom requires to be elevated to the rank of kaduns, but he has retained them under the title of ikbals, or favorites, for the sake of sparing the state the additional expense which the dignity of kaduns would require. the sultan being above all law, cannot submit to any matrimonial bondage; he is not, therefore, legally married to any of his wives, but those who are selected by him to share his affections, are pronounced by him kaduns, or ladies, and not sultanas; for none but those of the royal blood can enjoy that title, except the mother of the reigning sultan, who on her son's accession to the throne, takes, by courtesy, this title, and is called validé sultan. the title sultan is equally applied to males and females, with this difference only, that it precedes the name of the male, and follows that of the female: thus, they say sultan abd-ul-medjid, but for his sister, adilé sultan. when it is used by itself, it always implies the female branch of the royal family, and never his majesty, who is known by the title of padishah, or hünkear, or, in common parlance, efendimiz--our lord. his majesty never forming an alliance with any of his subjects, all his kaduns are originally georgian or circassian slaves, who are selected for this distinguished honor and presented to him by his mother or sisters, on kadir gedjessy, or the night in which the koran descended from heaven. they have each their separate establishments and retinue in the palace, and live as much apart as if in different dwellings, seldom seeing each other, except on occasions of state ceremony and etiquette. the princes of the royal blood also reside in the same palace, who, if of age, have their own odaluks, attendants, etc. it may be supposed, that in such a royal establishment, the rising generation is well represented; but on the contrary, few of them are allowed to prolong their lives, while many more never see the light. this premature destruction of life, though strictly prohibited in the koran, is very prevalent in turkey. in some cases from state-policy, lest the heirs to the crown should become too numerous, and in others, from a false desire in the ladies to preserve their beauty and freshness from the toils and trial of maternity. but very often the better feelings of their natures are sorely tried, and two of the sisters of the present sultan pined away in sorrow, and at last died, because their infant sons were sacrificed upon the altar of state-policy! abd-ul-medjid himself, in his younger days, was not exempt from trials of this sort. for just before coming to the throne, he had a favorite odaluk, to whom he was much attached. but as the princes are not permitted to become fathers, she fell a victim in the attempt to frustrate the probable birth of an heir, when a single week's delay would have elevated her to the rank of first kadun to the reigning monarch; for sultan mahmoud died a few days after she was sacrificed. whenever a child is born to the sultan, or any other oriental father, the tidings are immediately communicated to him and the family relatives, and the messenger handsomely rewarded. among the mussulmans the father himself pronounces the future name of his offspring at the moment of its birth. a certain man, having scarce passed the honeymoon, for he had only been married three months, one day, while he was in the bath, was suddenly apprised of the birth of a son and heir. as soon as he recovered from his surprise at such an unexpected event, he ordered him to be named tchapgun or racer, because, said he, he has accomplished in three months, the customary labor of nine. they have a singular notion that the reason a child cries as soon as it is born is, because his satanic majesty being of course present, cruelly pinches the tender offshoot of humanity; the only exception on record, being the virgin mary and jesus christ, who were protected from the touch of the devil by a veil, so placed by allah himself; thus, doubtless, accounting for the immaculacy of the holy virgin. the children, at their birth, are rubbed down with salt, and nicely bandaged. they are placed in a cradle and secured there. the hands and feet are bound in, so that the child cannot move. the poor little victim becomes black and blue under this treatment, and is occasionally relieved from its fetters to be re-enveloped in swaddling clothes; and when the toilet is completed, it very much resembles a little egyptian mummy. the child is nursed while lying down, the mother bending over it, and tilting the cradle, until she attains the requisite position. owing to the bandages in which the infants are constantly enveloped, the circulation of the blood is impeded, and they are obliged to be relieved by occasional scarifications, and the writer still wears the honorable scars of this traditional practice. when the sultan wends his steps from the mabeyn to the harem, the black gentlemen on guard at the door of the ladies' apartments, proceed immediately to announce his majesty's approach to the haznadar-ousta, or the lady treasuress. this personage, is a very important character in the royal household; being the keeper of all the jewels and other treasures, and the mistress of ceremonies; she is, in a word- "that dame who keeps up discipline among the general ranks, so that none stir or talk without her sanction on their she-parades: her title is, the mother of the maids." there is always one of these haznadars attached to the harems of the wealthy; and the individual who fills this office, has been the nurse of the head of the family in infancy; so that this "mother of the maids" feels almost a maternal interest in his majesty's happiness. the haznadar-ousta immediately proceeds to the salon, where she awaits the entrance of the sultan, who, after receiving her salutations, in the course of conversation, inquires after the health of one of the kaduns, which is taken as an indication that her company is desired by his majesty. this kadun now enters the royal presence alone, or perhaps with one of her children, while her train of attendants remain within call. like all other orientals, the padishah delights in the company of his children, and they are often seen in public with him, or in the royal mabeyn. his first-born was a daughter, and lately married to aali-ghalib pasha, the son of reshid. the children of the sultan precede their mother in rank, for they are of royal blood, while she is but a slave. hence the mother always takes a secondary position in cayiks, carriages, or in the saloon of reception. this apparent superiority never elates the children, nor in any way lessens the respect which they feel for their mothers. for whilst they are flattered and worshipped as shah-zadés and sultans, or princes and princesses, the general deference paid to their mothers is undiminished. they have a proverb which is very expressive of their feelings on this subject, "dagh kadar babam olajaghina, yüksük kadar anam ola." "rather than a father the size of a mountain, give me a mother, small as a thimble." the late validé-sultan, or mother of the sultan, was one of the most powerful individuals in the realm, and her patronage most assiduously courted. his majesty and his harem are frequently entertained with the graceful movements and merry castanets of the dancing girls. the osmanlis are very fond of dancing, but consider it inconsistent with their own dignity; they always have beautiful young slaves trained in this accomplishment, and also made proficient in the music of the country. turkish music is very unlike that of european countries, where there is a general similarity. although the orientals have very good ears for music, and treat the subject scientifically, yet it is strange that they do not understand the harmony of sounds--for all their concerts, both vocal and instrumental, consist of solos, that is, they all sing and play only the air or tenor, and never the bass and contralto, etc. the natural tones of their voices are very sweet; and of late years the military music having been arranged in european style, they have made great proficiency in this art. the opera house in pera is also very attractive to the turkish gentlemen, and much frequented by them. the sultan has his loge, or box there, and sometimes honors the house by his royal presence. recently the piano has also become very fashionable among them, and it is to be heard incessantly jingling in all the harems. the sultan being himself an amateur, frequently plays on that instrument, and has also an italian opera attached to his palace for the entertainment of his ladies, where many of the female slaves are trained to sing and act à la italienne, in the costumes of both sexes. the ladies of the palace are also amused with other exhibitions, which they witness through latticed partitions. from the preceding sketch, it will be readily understood, that all the ladies in the royal palace, are in reality slaves from the regions of circassia, but they are always well treated, and even addressed by the title of hanums, or ladies; and we may say their greatest hardship is being lightly clothed all seasons of the year; their feet without stockings, and their dresses made of the lightest fabrics, from which fact many of them fall easy victims to consumption. these ladies are not allowed to go abroad as freely as turkish hanums in general, on account of the restrictions of court etiquette; this confinement is also very injurious to their health, and their ennui is often insupportable. sometimes, after a due warning to all the gardeners and other gentlemen to quit the premises, they are allowed to stroll in the palace gardens, and occasionally the validé sultan takes pity on some of them, and permits them to enjoy a promenade in her own train, when the exuberance of their spirits often tempts them to the most childish acts of coquetry. indeed, so great is their longing to encounter the lords of creation, that a feigned sickness affords an occasion of seeing a doctor, and their favorite remedy for all ailments is bleeding, or the bleeder! these beautiful girls having no other ambition than to be as fascinating as possible, and such aspirations sometimes seem to be felt in more enlightened bosoms, they do not like to waste their sweetness on the desert air; as they are consequently a little mischievous, the practice of locking up each one in her own apartments has been deemed advisable. when the muezzin proclaims the hour of evening prayer, the disconsolate ladies are severally consigned to a state of security by the sable turnkeys of the palace. this is not, however, so dismal a fate, when we remember that a short time ago, all the inhabitants of stamboul were obliged to be within their own domiciles, about two hours after sunset; and awhile since, there was the curfew bell even in good old england. chapter xxx. circassian slaves. although the slave trade has been nominally abolished in turkey, and the public mart formally closed to this traffic, yet the practice of buying and selling has not been, nor will it ever be altogether abandoned, because the slave constitutes an essential element in the composition of their domestic institutions. there are two kinds of servitude in every house; one, the ordinary labor of domestic service; the other that of personal attendance; neither of which the free mussulman women are willing to perform, because they will thereby be more or less brought in contact with men, which is proscribed by the koran. the slave service, therefore, becomes necessarily indispensable with the mussulmans, whose houses have hitherto been supplied with circassian and nubian slaves, the former being a species of ladies in waiting, and the latter performing the menial services of the household. the average price of the slaves is, according to the tariff of the custom-house, $500 for the white, and $100 for the black. they bring these prices when they arrive fresh from their native lands. those of the circassian, who are, however, brought into the country in childhood, and carefully educated and trained in accomplishments, attain so rare a style of beauty and delicacy of appearance that they are frequently sold for $6,000 or $8,000. though the restrictions upon the trade have forced turkish families to employ greek and armenian women in their houses, yet there is always a demand for slaves. the armenians having the same institution as the mussulmans, viz., the harem, their maidens are prevented from entering any family as servants; it is only the old women, whose charms have all faded and gone, who are willing to expose themselves in this way. the greeks, though not so scrupulous, are generally ignorant of the turkish language, and altogether uncongenial in their habits and ideas, so that they are unpopular. slaves are still more indispensable in the palace, for the mussulman prejudice is opposed to the introduction of any of the subjects who would thus come in contact with royalty. besides, is his majesty to form an alliance with his subjects? the circassian parents so long accustomed to the benefits derived by the advancement of their daughters to positions of comparative ease, will always be ready and anxious to supply the metropolis; and the traffic, notwithstanding the formal prohibition, is still continued at private houses in top-hané. circassian slavery in turkey, is not a condition of servitude. all the children who are born from odaluks are free, and they also render their mothers free; an odaluk may be sold alone, but never after she has become a mother. besides the maids of honor or ladies in waiting, at the palace, are often bestowed in marriage upon pashas and other dignitaries, who thus consider themselves in some sense allied to royalty. one of their number was a slave to validé sultan. she was married to mehmed bey, the brother of the sultan's brother-in-law, with the idea of ameliorating her condition; but being very ill-treated by her husband, she had a petition written and presented it to her royal patroness, whereupon the validé summoned the husband, and reprimanded him in such a manner that he became exasperated, and having intoxicated himself with racky, or turkish brandy, rushed into the harem, and plunged his dagger into the breast of the unfortunate wife. sultan mahmoud lost his favorite wife, and was so much grieved by her death, that he ordered her apartments to be locked up, and that no one should enter them; he only, spent some time there every day in solitary meditation upon his lost favorite. there was a slave girl fourteen or fifteen years old, whose duty was to clean the bath belonging to these apartments. she was so curious to know why these rooms were always locked up, that she one day found herself on an exploring expedition by means of the private staircase. finding the door open, she ventured to enter the apartment, when, lo! and behold! there was the awful mahmoud himself. he said, "how dare you venture here; do you not know my express commands?" the terrified girl fell at his majesty's feet, and craved pardon. she was so bewitching in this posture, that the sultan not only pardoned her, but invited her to meet him every day in the same place, till at last, he ordered that the apartments should be appropriated to her, and she became the fifth kadun, and the mother of the present sultan! it is the idea of aspiring to such honors and stations, near even royalty itself, which induces the circassian parents so readily to sell their daughters to mussulmans, when nothing could induce them to barter their offspring to christians. no wonder that each simple peasant of the caucasus fancies slavery in the metropolis, to be a translation from poverty to an earthly elysium, when tales, and true tales too, not the enchantments of aladdin's wonderful lamp, are so common in oriental life! therefore, even if the traffic is formally prohibited, the circassian parents will force their offspring into the market, not only to ameliorate their condition, but to secure favorable alliances for themselves; so that if the legal sum be not hereafter realized as purchase money, their children will still be apprenticed in some way or other. chapter xxxi. watering places. there is a prevalent impression that the turkish ladies are always imprisoned at home; but nothing is more erroneous. for, since the destruction of the janissaries, who molested every one in public, they are to be seen everywhere, and on all occasions. the only requisite for their appearance is to be veiled, and to wear the feradjé, or cloak. thus accoutred, they wander through the bazaars, frequent all rural places of resort, visit the baths, and scarcely a day passes when they stay at home. nor is it to be supposed that they are closely muffled, as they were formerly. the ancient out-door costume was most hideous; they were enveloped in an immense white sheet, a little piece of horse-hair gauze being suspended over the eyes. but the yashmak or veil, is, at the present day, composed of the lightest india mull, and has little power of concealing their charms, but on the contrary, serves to heighten their beauty by its gossamer transparency. the arched eyebrows, through this deceptive veil, seem more delicately curved; the large and lustrous eyes shine more darkly from its snowy folds; and the delicate and peach-like hue of the complexion is rendered tenfold more lovely. the texture of the yashmak is now so exquisitely fine, that the two square yards of muslin which compose it do not weigh more than a single drachm! the feradjé or cloak is an ample outer garment, made of fine colored bombazine or thibet, lined with silk, and the edges are trimmed with embroidery. their feet are clothed with yellow chedik, or morocco buskins, over which paboudj, or slippers of the same color, are worn in the street. so great is the force of habit and education, that not even the oldest woman ever appears in public unveiled, although the koran pronounces furrows and wrinkles to be all-sufficient disguises for faded charms; yet, in turkey, as well as all over the world, the maxim doubtless is popular, that beauty never dies. even the dames of ebony hue, dreading the display of darkness visible, are most punctilious in covering their charms, thus affording more distinguished specimens of the wonderful effects of light and shade. during visits of ceremony, when the feradjé and yashmak are taken off, a long strip of white muslin is left hanging from the top of the head down the back, for the purpose of covering the face in case of sudden emergency. but such accidents seldom occur, as the gentlemen of the family are informed, as soon as they enter the vestibule of the harem, that there are strangers within. thus equipped, the osmanli ladies are the most independent creatures in the world. as no one dares to look them in the face, from a sense of respect, it has been customary for them slightly to encourage their timid admirers by a few furtive glances, if not positive attacks; so that, on all public occasions, an attentive observer may detect them in some of the wiles of coquetry, or unmeaning flirtation. ladies of distinction are attended by black eunuchs, who protect them from the too familiar approach of any witless knight, who may ignorantly trespass the limits of oriental decorum. these ebony gentry, from the nature of their position, had become insolent and overbearing, under the plea of protecting the ladies, and a native always avoided a collision with them, since they were sustained by public opinion. but their own extravagant conduct has put an end to their pretensions and power. kizlar aghassy, or the head black eunuch of the palace, was formerly so influential a personage as to rank among the ministers of state; but at the present time, the eunuchs have lost all their pristine greatness, and are mere domestics of the household. the carriage generally used by the ladies is called an araba, which is often very richly ornamented and gilded, and well cushioned in the inside. the top is covered with a crimson or green ehram or shaggy cloth, manufactured in albania, and fringed with gold. this spacious conveyance, capable of accommodating six or eight persons, has no springs, and is drawn by a couple of oxen, whose heads are gaily tricked out, and furnished with a charm against the evil-eye. the ends of the tails are tied to a cluster of red tassels, which are fastened to a hoop set in the yoke, and gracefully arched over their backs. this arrangement is to prevent the animals from spattering the mud with their tails. the araba is entered by means of a small temporary ladder at the back. there is a conductor, or arabagee, who leads the oxen by a chain attached to their heads, and a yanashma, or boy, who walks by the side, and goads them on. but many of the families are now to be seen in public, in european carriages, and they delight in excursions on the water in their beautiful cayiks. nature has been so lavish in her gifts to the land of the osmanlis, that they have every temptation to linger for hours in some one of the many lovely spots which are to be found all along the bosphorus. boghas-itchy or the bosphorus, is the most magnificent stream in the world. its winding way, its shores besprinkled with palaces, mosques and minaré's, in the peculiar picturesque style of the east; the gradually sloping hills, here and there studded with airy and pretty dwellings, and decked out in green array--all combine to enchant the eye and delight the mind. there is nothing so exquisite as the cayiks of the bosphorus. their forms are as slender as the canoe's, and certainly more graceful than the gondola's, defying any other aquatic conveyance rowed by men. they are always propelled by long sculls of one, two, or three pair, fastened on the gunnels at about midships, to pins, by leather bands. the hold is allotted to the accommodation of passengers; there you recline amid downy cushions, and noiselessly glide along, with the measured oars of the boatmen, who look like very sea-nymphs, in their snow-white robes. by moonlight, the shores, with their latticed and irregular buildings, seem to be some fantastic realms in the distance; and the blue waters reflecting back the silvery stars, almost tempt one to plunge beneath their glassy surface. no wonder, then, that the osmanlis should spend most of their time, when the summer sun cheers and invigorates, in loitering among such scenes as these. the sultan has numerous kiosks of his own; on the most lofty summits of the hills, in the most sweetly embosomed valleys, by the margin of the briny sea, where wave after wave has "noiselessly rolled up the beach" ever since the waters which were above the firmament were divided from those below--in the midst of plains, by the roadside, and in the noisy populous streets of the metropolis, are these tasteful pleasure bowers ever to be met with, but carefully guarded from profane footsteps. generally, however, in the spots thus consecrated by royal pleasure, are to be found coffee shops, and mats or low stools, for the accommodation of other classes of this nature-loving multitude, where at all times the most lovely groups of men, women, and children are collected. there are some places of resort more frequented than others. the kehat-hané, or as it is commonly known to europeans the "sweet-waters of europe," at the head of the golden horn, fener-bahchessy, or, the garden of the light house, and moda bournou, or the fashionable point, on the marmora, the geök-souyou or the heavenly waters of asia, on the bosphorus, hunkear-iskellesy or the sultan's valley--and kalender on the opposite shore. to all of these places, the people flock in cayiks and carriages, and spreading their carpets upon the green sward, recline with true oriental nonchalance and comfort. the chibouk adds its curling fumes to the scene, the narghillé bubbles in unison, the favorite kahvé is handed round in tiny cups, the wild notes of the lahouta and kementché are re-echoed by the verdant hills, while an entire lamb on a spit sheds its fragrant odors, predicting a pic-nic champêtre. the itinerant seller of bon-bons plants his tray before you, and you cannot refuse to partake of its luscious contents--wandering gipsies present you wild flowers, and proffer their services in unfolding the pages of destiny. group after group glides along in the fanciful costumes of stamboul, and all are joyous and contented. thus the osmanlis enjoy that sensation of delight, their indescribable kief, when for the moment all care and trouble are forgotten, amid the scenes of beauty which nature so freely lavishes upon all, rich and poor. especially on a friday, or the mohammedan sunday, there are congregated thousands of persons, people from every clime, and of every rank--persians in their peaked papakhs; albanians with their fustanels; circassians in their woolly caps; zeybeks, or turkish mountaineers, in gay costumes and lofty head-gear, and armed from head to foot; strange men on horse-back, who seem to be made up of gold embroidery and cashmere shawls; turkish soldiers, and ebony negroes on milk-white steeds; the representatives of the different western powers in their elegant carriages, with their own ladies and families; european travellers and book-making authors, mingle in the crowd. the imported beauties of circassia, sit on their embroidered cushions, sable guards patroling around, while their lords and masters keep at a respectful distance. the osmanli ladies seem all to be beautiful, especially in their white and delicate veils, and costumes of such varied hues, with brilliant diamonds glittering upon their heads, necks, arms, and fingers--in a word, a turkish watering-place would eclipse even broadway itself in recherchées toilettes and unparalleled beauty; while the charm of such an endless variety furnishes a study for the artist, and leaves nothing to be desired to complete a picture exquisitely perfect. amid such scenes as these, the blue heavens for a canopy, with nature's emerald carpeting, the tall and majestic trees bearing the impress of unnumbered seasons, more beautiful in their leafy verdure than the most exquisitely carved and marble columns of the palaces of kings; while the tuneful songsters of the grove trill their plaintive notes--are displayed the simple tastes and habits of this people, so inaccessible when they are once within the precincts of their own domiciles. here may the stranger, who for the first time treads the shores of the eastern world, perceive the real spirit of oriental society and manners, as exhibited in the exchange of mutual intercourse and the etiquettes of life. the group just before you may be the harem of an armenian banker. though composed of many ladies, yet the armenians being christians, by virtue of their religion, they are not allowed to number more than one wife in their harems. again, under the shadow of yonder tree, are two lovely mussulman girls, surrounded by a train of halayiks, or female slaves, and attended by black eunuchs. stay your footsteps, for it is the harem of ---efendy--a redjal or grandee of the realm. this distinguished man had the misfortune to lose his interesting and beloved wife; and so strong was her memory upon his heart, that he never sought to replace her loss; consoling himself with these two beautiful pledges of her love, and lavishing upon them all his affection and indulgence. these young ladies alone now constitute the harem of a man who has perfect freedom to number as many as four lawful wives! thus it may be perceived, how far from being synonymous are the two words harem and polygamy. chapter xxxii. the bazaars. the bazaars of constantinople are built of stone, and lighted from the top. they seem like long streets covered with arched roofs, each street being appropriated to some particular merchandise; thus, there are the spice bazaar, where all kinds of condiments, drugs, and dye stuffs are sold; the perfumery bazaar, containing the most delicious perfumes of the east, the otto of roses, tcherkess-souyou, and many other essences, also the fragrant pastilles, which are placed upon the pipe bowls, filling the atmosphere with their delicious scent, and the singular rat's tails which emit a perfume like musk, and retain their odor for any length of time; the silk bazaar, the calico bazaar, the shoe bazaar, depots of most varied and exquisite embroideries; the jewelry bazaar, the pipe bazaar, where are displayed the beautiful and costly mouthpieces studded with gems, the long and graceful stems of jessamine, or cherry, and the gilded and delicately modelled red clay bowls. the space occupied by these bazaars is equal to the whole of the sixth ward in the city of new york, and the internal arrangements are entirely unlike the shops of this country. there are no front windows, nor counters. the entire façade of the streets being shelved for the display of wares and goods, presents a whole front with the appearance of a vast library, not of books, but of merchandise. a sort of elevated platform, about five or six feet wide, and two feet from the ground, extends the whole side, on which both merchants and customers sit, thus serving the double purpose of counter and seats. the shops are divided by elbow boards, and a small room is attached behind each for the storage of goods, etc. the ends of the streets are furnished with immense gates, which are closed every evening about an hour before sunset, and are opened again in the morning about eight. the whole effect is very interesting; the fanciful wares, the great number and proximity of the stalls or shops, and the varied costumes of the venders and purchasers, combine to create rare and beautiful groups for the pencil of the artist. carriages, horses, and foot-passengers, are continually passing and re-passing in crowds. occasionally the owners of the shops are obliged to leave their merchandise for a short time, and during their absence, a covering of net-work suspended across the front of the stall, is sufficient to indicate the absence of the proprietor, and also to protect the property from all depredation. these bazaars are the favorite resort of the turkish ladies of all ranks, and there is no little coquetry displayed by the fair purchasers, when the unusually handsome appearance of the merchant tempts them literally to ransack his whole establishment for the most trifling article. these occasions are also made available for the purposes of flirtation, assignation, and all other romantic amusements. it is amusing to observe the ladies as they fit themselves with their peculiarly colored and shaped chaussure, for they make no scruple of displaying their beautiful ankles, which are generally divested of every semblance of hosiery. the method of buying and selling is peculiar to the country, and doubtless very entertaining to strangers. the system of prix-fix, is unknown in turkey, for, as they go on the principle "each one for himself," no one is content with any price except his own valuation. besides, the people are so conceited that any concession on the part of the merchant is flattering to their vanity. he, therefore enjoys the privilege of being beaten down, merely as complimentary to his customers. so the merchant always demands an exorbitant price, which he has no idea of receiving, in order to give his customer a fair chance to gratify his vanity, and also to exercise his judgment. as london has its "whitechapel road," paris its "temple," and new york its "chatham street," so constantinople has its "bit-bazaar," emphatically so denominated from the vermin which infest old clothing. infinite diversity pervades the garments here displayed, and as people's clothes always look something like themselves, so the empty garments seem to tell tales of their good or bad fortunes, whether the former owners died of plague or small pox, were solitary occupants of the robes, or shared them with other animalculæ. at the auction, which occurs every day in these purlieus, poverty may find a momentary relief by the disposal of its surplus wardrobe, or may even don the cast off rags of some less fortunate victim of misery. there is a more respectable auction at the bezesten every day except friday, until noon, where jewelry, embroideries, carpets, arms, and all sorts of superior second-hand garments are disposed of. here the humblest citizen may at least enjoy the semblance of grandeur, as he invests himself in the same setry which the efendi discarded the day before; or an ambitious mother may procure the same toilette de noces as graced the form of a beautiful hanum. the bezesten is a large quadrangular stone building, surmounted by a cupola, in the centre of the bazaars, and serves not only as a place of public auction, but for the safe deposit of valuable property, either money, shawls, or jewelry. there are numerous khans in the city, which are constructed in the form of a hollow square, and are two or three stories in height. the various rooms are occupied as offices, by jobbers, wholesale merchants, and bankers. goods are sold in wholesale, usually at two or three installments of 31 days each, which are seldom liquidated in less than 6 or 8 months. the trades are divided into different guilds, called esnafs; each one governed by its own laws and officers. the chiefs of these guilds are always mussulmans, and appointed out of the corps of superannuated palace attendants, such as boatmen, cooks, and scullions, who are thus pensioned off. chapter xxxiii. kahvés. we have desires to which we are impelled by nature, and their attainment is indispensable to the continuation of life; but we have desires also which are the results of acquired tastes, and which habit often makes as impulsive as our natural wants. thus are created the luxuries of life, and to increase the delight which we derive from such sources of enjoyment, we endeavor to refine, to etherealize their forms, and to divest them of all sensual and grosser accompaniments. among such luxuries, coffee and tobacco are pre-eminent, which are made even the basis of hospitality and the bond of social intercourse by all the osmanlis. tobacco, when imbibed in its exquisite forms, is the source of the most refined enjoyments, creating those reveries and dreamy sensations which float for the moment about our listless senses, beclouding with a silvery vapor some of life's dull realities. tobacco, ever since its first introduction to the civilized world, has become so indispensable an item of consumption that it has long been ranked among the staple commodities of life, and seems to claim the double title of a natural and artificial taste. yet, no form of pleasure and exhilaration has ever been the subject of so much study, as the ways and means of enjoying this fragrant weed. all the world are well aware of the different forms in which tobacco is used, viz., inhaling in the form of smoke, titillating the nostrils by its powder called snuff, or imbibing the juice into the system by the process of mastication. the two latter forms of enjoying this luxury, seem to admit of no refinement, as time has rolled on, and snuffing and chewing yet remain in their pristine state of simplicity. on the contrary, no ingenuity has been spared to invent, improve or remodel the various vehicles by which the more exquisite and graceful practice of smoking may be enjoyed. although tobacco may have been indigenous to america, yet we have the assertion of professor beckman to corroborate the fact, that this plant was known to the tartars long before the discovery of america. as early as the year 1610 a native turk was paraded through the streets of constantinople with a pipe transfixed through his nose, as the penalty of indulging in the pastime of smoking, which was then in great disrepute. indeed, if we may credit tradition, mohammed himself predicted "that in times to come there should be men, bearing the name of mussulmans, but not really such, who should smoke a certain weed called dükhan, or tobacco." tobacco was introduced into england soon after the discovery of columbus, by sir walter raleigh, and thence found its way into europe; but not until fifteen years after do we hear of it among the turks, whence it seems that the orientals must have acquired their knowledge of this plant through some other channel, most probably from their tartar neighbors. but from whatever clime we first derived this fragrant weed, there is no doubt that the earliest method of using it was in a pipe, and not in the form of cigars, or by imbibing the juice by chewing--which latter practice was unknown to the early lovers of tobacco, and is unpractised by the orientals even at this day. as the aromatic plant by degrees became essential to the happiness of mankind, even including the fair sex, doubtless the inconvenience of the pipe suggested the idea of a more portable form, whence the invention of cigars. in holland, in 1570, they smoked out of conical tubes, made of palm-leaves plaited together; and subsequently the leaf of the plant was rolled up, and the present form of cigars adopted. the only recommendation to the form of cigars is their convenience; but many amateurs pretend that they thus attain a stronger relish of the tobacco than from pipes. the cigar is certainly strong in its fumes, but whether the relish is greater is a matter to be questioned, and in this form the injurious and even poisonous properties of the plant are imparted to the system. besides, there is the close proximity of the fire to the mouth and teeth; secondly, the condensation of the essential oil on the lips, leaving a yellow tinge around the mouth; thirdly, the gradual dissolving of the end of the cigar in the mouth, producing, by its nicotine property, irritation of the gums and the salivary glands; fourthly, there is the necessity of always holding the cigar, which in the course of time imparts a dingy hue to the fingers; fifthly, the danger of injuring the clothes and furniture by the constant falling of the ashes; sixthly, the eyes suffer from their proximity to the heated fumes; and last, but not least, there is the satisfaction of imbibing the nectar-juice of some black mouth, for the black nymphs who are employed in this manufacture, always salivate their handiwork, by way of giving it a smooth and handsome finish. surely, could our amateurs but witness the manufacture of their favorite havanas, they would forever eschew that form of the aromatic weed. but apart from all these considerations, the very convenience of the cigar becomes an objection; for being always at hand, the too frequent use of it has converted the pleasure into an evil--such a constant craving being excited that even the health is injured. doubtless this perverted taste, in circumstances where smoking has not been permitted, as on board ships, behind counters, in offices, etc., has induced the pernicious practice of chewing. those nations who retain the original, natural, and simplest mode of enjoying the weed, have never relinquished the pipe, but have varied the form of this implement, and much beautified and improved it. the people who have retained the use of the pipe, are the dutch, irish, english, scotch, germans, russians, turks, persians, and all orientals. in the perfection of the art of smoking the persians may rank first, then the osmanlis, russians, hungarians, dutch, english, and last of all the germans. the persians rank high in this respect, because they have studied the philosophy of enjoying the fumes of tobacco in their greatest purity. this they have attained by passing the smoke through water, and thus purifying it from the essential oil of the plant. the kaleon of the persians, the hookah of hindostan, the shishé of the arabs, or the narghillé of the turks, is an air-tight vessel partially filled with water, on the top of which is a bowl to contain the ignited tobacco. from this bowl a tube descends into the water, and the long and flexible pipe is inserted into the vessel above the level of the water. when the smoker begins to draw through the pipe, a partial vacuum is created in the vessel, which occasions the pressure of the external air to force the smoke of the tobacco downward through the small tube above mentioned into the water beneath, where, after losing its solid particles, it bubbles up into the vacant space above, and thence through the pipe to the mouth of the smoker. but ever since the peculiar and agreeable properties of this fragrant plant have been known, the ingenuity of its votaries has been excited to invent and improve the ways and means of obtaining the greatest amount of satisfaction from its use. in the earliest stages the pipe was made of one entire piece of clay, but soon the fact was established that this substance became so heated as to decompose the tobacco. metallic and other pipes were tried, but still the same evil existed; until wood became the most popular material. but that being combustible, the flavor of the tobacco was deteriorated; and at last the arrangement was made of a stem of wood with a bowl of clay attached to it, to contain the ignited plant. the wood was a nonconductor of heat, capable of being constructed of any length, and moreover, easily cleaned, so that this was pronounced the great desideratum. the turks have displayed the greatest refinement and taste in the manufacture of their long and beautiful chibouks or pipe-stems, to which they attach the amber mouth-piece, so agreeable to the lips and free from all impurities. a peculiar species of clay was discovered in turkey so remarkably argillaceous as to supersede all other substances for the construction of pipe-bowls; and these oriental and philosophic smokers have displayed their wisdom and science in the peculiar form into which they have molded them. the form of a lüllé, or turkish pipe-bowl, is that of an inverted cone, the base of which, when filled with tobacco, forms the surface. the design of this form is to present a greater surface of exposure to the atmosphere, and to bring a smaller body of tobacco in contact with the bowl, which is made as thin and delicate as the nature of the material will permit, so as to possess the least quantity of body, and thus less power of retaining heat. the pipe should be lighted in the centre of the bowl, not with a piece of paper, which would scorch the surface of the tobacco, but with a small piece of spunk. at each inhalation the ignited circle enlarges and extends toward the edge of the bowl, and as the combustion takes place proportionally downward, it is evident that all the tobacco is consumed without the assistance of fingering it, as the germans are in the habit of doing. the stem is always of wood, but great care is used in its selection. jasmine is cultivated expressly for pipe-stems, and carefully trained so as to increase in length and uniform thickness. cherry-stems are much prized and more durable than the jasmine, and there is a species of wild fruit tree called germeshek, peculiar to turkey, remarkably suited for the use of tobacco, and very generally used. these pipe-stems are never less than four or five feet long, and perfectly straight. the object gained by the length is that the smoke arrives at the lips comparatively cool, having deposited its more solid particles in the stem, which being perfectly straight is easily cleansed; for it is an essential point that the pipe should, contrary to german philosophy, be kept pure. still another advantage gained by the length is that the pipe may be easily disposed of for the moment, resting by the side or against a table without deranging the tobacco in the bowl, which should always have a small brass tray beneath it to protect the floor from any accident. certainly, then, a turkish chibouk is unequalled as an implement for smoking. the pure amber mouthpiece often glittering with brilliants, the long stem, one unbroken length of slender jasmine, and the delicate and beautifully-gilded bowl, seem to constitute the very essence of refinement in the luxury of smoking; and no wonder that the osmanlis recline for hours on their silken cushions, and puff and puff again "ambrosial gales." one reason of the luxury displayed in the turkish pipe is, that the chibouk is an indispensable appendage of hospitality, always presented to the guests, and constantly changed and replaced by another, each successive pipe exceeding its predecessor in beauty and value, until the visit is terminated. the chibouks and narghillés are symbols of luxury and wealth among the osmanlis, as services of silver are appendages of elegant life to the europeans, and there is great ambition to excel each other in the costliness of their appurtenances of smoking. many of the pashas and other men of wealth, possess chibouks to the value of $50,000, ranging from $10 upwards. sultan mahmoud was forced to issue an edict forbidding the hosts to present them to visitors, and ordering that every one should provide his own chibouk. hence the appendage to all gentlemen of rank of a chibouk-gy, who always accompanies his master. the narghillés or hookahs are also very popular, and often of exquisite workmanship; but pipes being more portable and handy, are generally preferred. the effort necessary to draw the smoke from the narghillé is, by some, considered as objectionable, but a little practice soon habituates to its use, and certainly with this instrument we have the smoke in its greatest purity. but it is not only the utility and beauty of the long chibouk which constitute the osmanlis the best and most philosophical smokers. there is no tobacco in the world so delicious as the turkish; so varied in its degrees of narcotic strength, or so carefully prepared, and a taste once being acquired for this species of the plant, all other varieties become intolerable. a growing taste for this tobacco has of late been acquired in america, and the increasing demand for this article has induced speculators to flood the market with spurious imitations or adulterations both imported and of home manufacture. even in turkey the greatest connoisseurs can, with difficulty, procure the best species; there are so many varieties offered for sale; the very worst kind, of which so much is exported to america, being from smyrna and its immediate neighborhood. the tobacco most valued, and justly so, for its pure and aromatic flavor, is only raised in a small district of thessaly, in european turkey, and is called yenijé tobacco, from the name of the region where it is cultivated. there has been concocted a peculiar kind or brand of the plant under the title of scafarlatti, which seems to have gained great celebrity in the united states as being the genuine turkish article. this appellation is as yet unknown in turkey, and must have sprung from the inventive brain of some one of the barnum race, who would even enlarge the turkish vocabulary at the expense of the lingua italiana. not to notice the western nations, who, with their clay pipes, have remained in statu quo in the art of smoking, the germans deserve some criticism: for they have made many attempts to arrive at perfection. the material of which the german pipe-bowls are made, poetically called meerschaum, is ill adapted for the purpose, and the forms of their stems and mouth-pieces imply entire ignorance of the science of smoking. the meerschaum, or froth of the sea, is a native rock formation of turkey, and is excavated about two or three hundred miles from the sea of marmora. every particle is exported to vienna, and it is never used by the natives, because it is a calcareous substance, and when in contact with fire undergoes a process of combustion to a sufficient degree to decompose the tobacco. this fact is well attested by the circumstance that a meerschaum pipe-bowl is greatly enhanced in value when by a long and tedious process it has lost all its combustible properties, and is thus rendered incapable of deteriorating the tobacco. but why select a substance which requires so long an apprenticeship, when nature furnishes one well suited for the purpose? and why esteem an article for its power of absorption and then prize it the more for having lost it by time and use? german philosophy only can explain! apart from the unfitness of meerschaum for the bowl, the form in which it is modelled shows how little the nature of tobacco is understood by those sturdy people; for the form of an elongated cylinder only serves to surround the weed by a heavy body of combustible material capable of containing an excessive degree of heat, and thus decomposing the tobacco. but the main object of these amateurs of the mere-sham seems to be to deteriorate the fume of the narcotic plant as much as possible--for to cap the climax of their absurdity, a metallic cover is nicely fitted to those exquisite pipe-bowls, and thus the favorite meerschaum is converted into a perfect retort for the manufacture of tobacco-gas! their stems are generally made of the most ordinary wood, short and curving, and the mouth-piece of the minutest dimensions. the object in having such small mouth-pieces is to imitate the process by which infants are nourished, by introducing them into the mouth and regularly sucking up the smoke instead of inhaling it, as the osmanlis do, by merely resting their lips upon the large and oval surface of the amber. the introduction of the piece into the mouth immediately excites the saliva, which in part passes into the pipe, and is otherwise discharged by spitting--a most disgusting practice unknown among the orientals. notwithstanding also the shortness of the pipe, owing to its curved form and the diminutive mouthpiece, it is almost impossible to keep it clean. but it seems to be a sort of german philosophy not only to have their pipes in a most filthy state, but to delight in and value them the more in proportion to their antiquity and impurity. truly there is no accounting for taste, nor is it any longer a matter of wonder that pigs delight to wallow in the mire. if, then, the nations of the east, the persians and osmanlis, are behind the age in other matters of civilization, they have surely attained the acme of refinement in this delight. nature, too, has favored them in the peculiar quality of their tobacco, and the very indolence of their habits has led them to meditate more diligently on their favorite luxury. hence the palm in this matter is to be given to their musical gurgling narghillé, purifying and cooling the fragrant fumes, and to the long and graceful chibouk, which a little care will keep always pure and ready for use. these are well worth the adaptation of other nations. some have, however, objected to the chibouk as not being portable and convenient during a promenade, as if there were a municipal law requiring all good citizens to smoke in the streets. if the good taste of the community should render the use of these chibouks and narghillés popular, there is no doubt that all the places for public refreshment would be provided with them, as they now are in turkey and all over the east. the coffee plant is well known to be a native of arabia; it was used as a drink in that part of the world as early as the ninth century of the hegira, and was gradually introduced into the countries of the levant; it was many times declared unlawful by the followers of the koran, as being of the class of inebriating liquors so often condemned by mohammed; but the eastern nations are so addicted to its use, that they say, "a cup of coffee and a pipe of tobacco are a complete entertainment!" it seems that this beverage was made fashionable in paris about the year 1668, by a turkish ambassador. "the elegance of the equipage recommended it to the eye, and charmed the women; the brilliant porcelain cups in which it was poured, the napkins fringed with gold, and the turkish slaves on their knees, presenting it to the ladies seated on the ground on cushions, turned the heads of the parisian dames. this elegant introduction made the exotic beverage a subject of conversation; and in 1672, an armenian at paris, at the fair time, opened a coffee house." this establishment was much frequented by the literati, until the proprietor added the sale of wine and beer to its attractions. a similar attempt was made in new york in 1855, but soon relinquished; notwithstanding the proverbial fondness of the americans for good coffee and tobacco. the fact is, their temperament is too nervous, and their habits are too restless to allow them quietly to sip their coffee and smoke their pipes as the orientals do. besides, the style of preparing the coffee in turkey is decidedly superior to any known in europe or america, and has met with the approbation of those who have tasted it either in new york, or in the sultan's dominions. "coffee is found on chemical analysis to contain a highly nutritious element, known as caffein. this component part of all good coffee is found to contain a larger proportion of nitrogen than any other vegetable principle, and in this respect equals some of the most highly animalized products, rendering it nutritious as a drink." the essential oil of the berry is so volatile, that the greatest care and skill are requisite in its roasting and pulverization; for if too much burnt, the aroma is destroyed, if underdone, the water fails to absorb or extract the nutritious material, and if not properly pulverized, a perfect chemical combination of the particles in solution is not effected. there is no doubt a desire among the americans, to obtain this beverage in its purity and excellence, as evince the many machines and contrivances they use; yet they seldom if ever succeed in their attempts. the mixture from the grocers, and the ingredients they mingle at home, such as eggs, isinglass, etc., render it impossible to secure a pure, unadulterated, fragrant solution of this berry. the commercial competition is so great that in order to be able to undersell each other, all sorts of cheaper substitutes are mixed with the coffee, such as chicory, beans, peas, etc.; thus annihilating the really nutritive properties of the genuine plant. in a word, those who have never tasted a cup of good turkish coffee, are yet in unhappy ignorance of the peculiar aroma and deliciousness of coffee as a beverage. coffee being the universal and favorite beverage in turkey, the first ideas of an osmanli, upon opening his eyes in the morning, are associated with his kahvé and chibouk, or coffee and pipe, which in reality constitute his only breakfast, and are not only used upon rising, but at all hours during the day, and at the very moment of his retiring. these luxuries are invariably offered to visitors, and their omission is regarded as a breach of hospitality. their universal use has given rise to the establishment of numerous kahvés, which are the resort of persons of all ranks and condition. they are to be met with in all parts and quarters of the city, each having its own set of customers, and constituting, in reality, the only casinos or club houses, where politics are discussed, business transacted, and the news of the day freely circulated; in fact the only bourse or exchange in constantinople, was a coffee house at pershembé-pazar, in galata: and it is only of late years that a regular exchange has been erected. many of these kahvés are very beautifully constructed, and adorned with pillars and fountains, with gardens attached to them, where visitors are entertained with sweet strains of music; and crowds assemble to listen to the extravagant fictions of the meddahs, or professed story-tellers, or otherwise to wile away the time; smoking, sipping the fragrant berry, and playing backgammon, dama, or mangala. all games of chance are played by the osmanlis, only for amusement, and gambling is not generally practised by them. the moral effect of these establishments upon the community is very evident; for though wine is forbidden by the koran, there are many mey-hanés, or grog-shops, to be found in turkey, which are not generally frequented by people of any pretensions to respectability; indeed drunkenness is a very uncommon vice, doubtless owing to the numerous kahvés, which afford the habitual refreshments of pipes and coffee to the people, with every facility for social intercourse. on entering the coffee shop, there is an elevated platform on the three sides, which is furnished with cushions or mats for the accommodation of visitors. on the sides of the wall are various grotesque pictures, and also shelves, where the implements of shaving and toilette are so fantastically displayed as to create a somewhat comic appearance, and one altogether peculiar to turkey. at one of the remotest corners is an elevated fire-place for the preparation of coffee, which is served in very small cups. the diminutive quantity of this beverage was so unsatisfactory to one of the sailors of the english fleet at constantinople, that upon tasting it he observed, "this is excellent; just bring me a dozen." surrounding the fire-place are shelves, upon which stand the graceful narghillés, with their brazen and polished mountings, attractive and pleasing to the eye. but the most active and busy personage in this establishment is the berber, or barber, who is not only the shaver, hair-dresser, and trimmer in general, but extends the province of his sharp profession to bleeding, cupping, leeching, and tooth-drawing; the results of which avocations are displayed at the door, fantastically strung and diversified with colored beads. barbers always follow in the train of doctors, and even precede them, for bleeding is a universal remedy in turkey, whether the patient is sick of fever or fright. indeed, it is the custom for every body to be bled once a year, generally in the spring, in order to purify the system. add to this the frequent application of leeches, scarifications, and cupping, and it may be easily conceived that this branch of industry is very profitable; still more so when it was the custom to shave the whole head, for the convenience of frequent ablutions. many, in conformity with european civilization, now allow the hair to grow, but those who oppose other reforms are equally unyielding in this respect, and "calculating even to a hair." chapter xxxiv. hamam, or bath. in the east there is one source of comfort and enjoyment which is more essential than all else, and that is the use of the bath, which follows all other pleasures, when excess has wearied the system, and precedes and prepares for anticipated luxuries physical or mental. this process of purifying and refreshing the body, is eagerly sought for as soon as the traveller arrives at constantinople; indeed seems to be second only in his mind to the impressions of an entrance to the magnificent harbor. the baths of classic memory, where the heroes of ancient rome were wont to prepare their sinews for the athletic games, and where the patrician dames of pompeii resorted, to add fresher and more glowing tints to their fair charms, were all conducted on the same principle as those of stamboul at the present day. it is wonderful that modern civilization should not yet have adopted the refinements of olden times, when they are so essential to real health and comfort. as by some mishap this desideratum exists, it would not be mal-a-propos to describe the real charm and merit of these institutions. the object of all bathing is to free the skin from the deposits of insensible perspiration. this idea has been much in vogue of late, as testify the water-cures, vapor-baths, medicated, sulphurated, etc., being in reality rather vehicles for disease than remedies. but the peculiar substance which closes up the pores of the skin, cannot be removed by simple immersion in soap and water, for, like all other greasy substances, it is composed of solid and liquid, or stearine and olein, the liquid part of which may, in a chemical combination, be absorbed by the water, but the skin will still remain clogged up. seeing the futility of the process of immersion, many have supposed that a profuse perspiration excited by fumigation, vaporization, etc., would carry off these deposits, by which processes, however, the liquid portion only would be removed, and the system reduced to a state of perfect exhaustion. the turkish baths are neither immersion nor vapor baths; but the atmosphere is heated by means of flues through the walls, to a temperature suited to induce a free perspiration, without causing over-exhaustion; for the interior is so arranged that the bather, in passing from one apartment to another, gradually becomes acclimated to the heat. these baths, unlike many other institutions in the east, are perfectly accessible to all, both natives and foreigners, and are the more attractive on account of their entire dissimilarity from all establishments for the same purpose in europe or america. frequent ablutions, and the greatest personal cleanliness being strictly enjoined upon all true believers, by the precepts of the koran, it is considered an act of piety to erect edifices and public fountains for those purposes, either during life-time, or by personal bequest; consequently, such instances of benevolence are by no means rare, nor are the structures deficient in architectural beauty. they are built of stone, and adorned with cupolas, besprinkled with globular glasses, which transmit a softened light to the interior. the interior is divided into three compartments; the saloon, the tepidarium, and the bath itself. the saloon, where the visitors dress and undress, is a large apartment surrounded on three sides by elevated platforms, on which are placed mattresses and cushions for the comfort and accommodation of those who frequent the bath. in the centre of this room there is usually a marble fountain, whose trickling waters soothe the ear, and add beauty to the scene, dispensing a delicious coolness to the atmosphere. on his entrance to this saloon, the visitor is immediately greeted with bouyourun, (you are welcome), from the attendants, who conduct him to one of the mattresses on the platform, where he is undressed, within a temporary screen, made by holding up a towel to prevent exposure of the person; for the osmanlis are sensitively modest, and feel a feminine delicacy in this respect, so that none ever bathe in public without being suitably invested. his watch, ring, and purse, are handed over to the hamamgy for safe keeping, and his apparel being carefully folded in a shawl, and designated by his own head-gear, which is placed upon it, is deposited by the side of the mattress, now appropriated to his exclusive use. notwithstanding all these precautions, very ludicrous mistakes sometimes occur, as happened recently to a certain soldier, who was anxious to abandon the ranks, and possessing no other means of changing his uniform for a citizen's dress, entered the bath en militaire; where, after having performed his ablutions, he committed the very slight error of appropriating to himself a neighbor's mattress, with its accompanying wardrobe, and thus was enabled to make an honorable retreat en bourgeois. being now undressed, enveloped in large towels, and mounted on nalluns, or wooden pattens, to protect his feet from the hot marble and the water, the bather is conducted into the halvet, or tepidarium, which is heated to a degree a little above temperate, where he reposes on cushions until he is gradually acclimated to the atmosphere. when the pores of the skin are opened, and perspiration excited, the visitor proceeds to the inner room to go through the process of bathing. the hamam, or bath itself, whose temperature is raised to any requisite degree by means of flues constructed within, and all along the walls, so as to allow the flames to circulate freely in every direction, is in many of these establishments, exceedingly beautiful; the dome being supported on magnificent columns, and the walls and doors inlaid with large slabs of marble, and adorned with finely chiselled fonts on all sides, which are furnished with double ornamented brass cocks, for the supply of warm and cold water. there is an elevated marble platform in the middle, where the bathers lie at full length, for the purpose of having their sinews relaxed, and joints examined. both the apartment, and this process in particular, have been most ridiculously described, and, either through malice or ignorance, most egregiously exaggerated by travellers; for example, the public are informed that, "a dense vapor sometimes so fills the saloon, that he (the bather), sees nothing distinctly, but figures flit before him like visions in a mist. having walked, or sat in this heated mist, till a profuse perspiration bursts out, the tellak again approaches, and commences his operations. he lays the bather on his back or face, and pins him to the ground by kneeling heavily on him, and having thus secured him, he handles him in the rudest and most painful manner. he twists and turns the limbs, so as to seem to dislocate every joint. the sufferer feels as if the very spine was separated, and the vertebræ of the back torn asunder. it is in vain he complains of this treatment, screams out in anguish and apprehension, and struggles to extricate himself. the incubus sits grinning upon him, and torturing him, till he becomes passive from very exhaustion." in the first place, there is no dense vapor in a turkish bath, but the heat is produced by the flues in the walls; true, there is sometimes the appearance of mist, which is only created momentarily by the quantity of hot water poured over the bathers, and is soon dispersed by ventilation, for such an atmosphere is never tolerated by the natives. now, as to the bather being pinned to the ground in the rudest and most painful manner, etc., there is more of a spirit of ridicule than simple truth in this description; it being only resorted to in cases of rheumatism, and the like maladies, when the patient is extended on the marble platform, and all his joints examined and rubbed by the tellak, or assistant, who, owing to the relaxed condition of the nervous system, easily discovers the seat of any local pain, and proceeds to dispel it by friction. many having experienced decided relief from this mode of treatment, it is very frequently resorted to in turkey. no such treatment, therefore, ever occurs on ordinary occasions, unless the farce is got up by special request, and for the benefit of strangers or travellers, who, not content with the usual modus operandi, insist upon the realization of their own extravagant ideas. a native of constantinople had to stop at smyrna on his way to america. being anxious to enjoy the luxury of a bath once more, he repaired to one of the establishments. as he wore a hat, the attendants mistook him for a regular frank or european, and he resolved to maintain the joke by pretending utter ignorance of all the languages of the country. after having experienced many absurdities, all novel to a native, he was at last stretched full length upon his stomach on the marble platform of the bath. the tellak kneeling by his side commenced a regular process of pommelling him, and, at the same time, of cracking his joints. the incubus, as though not satisfied with his own exertions, now called for assistance from another tellak, who came and placed himself on the opposite side, when both commenced in the rudest manner to push their victim from one to the other. the sufferer, astonished at this extraordinary treatment, was ready to split his sides with laughter, which one of the tellaks taking as an indication of uneasiness, observed to the other not to be so rude in his manipulations. he was, in return, assured "this is the way the franks like, the harder the better; also, they must not be allowed to think they haven't had their money's worth!" doubtless an osmanli would not only be much amused, but astonished, could he behold the victim of a european vapor bath, as he sits boxed up, and enveloped in blankets to his throat, parboiled with steam, and suffocated by the fumes of brimstone; surely he would believe he had by mistake got into the regions of eblis. when the person is in a state of free perspiration, he is seated by the side of one of the fountains, beneath which are marble basins to receive the water, both hot and cold, as it flows from the ornamented cocks, for no osmanli ever uses the tub, water which has once been in contact with the body, having imbibed its impurities, is deemed unfit for further use; therefore, on all occasions, their ablutions are performed with flowing water, for they do not delight to wallow and splash in a solution of their own dirt. the tellak having upon his right hand a kesse, or bag made of raw silk, commences a gentle rubbing (for they cannot bear any rude or rough treatment, for which reason the delicate hands of boys are employed), over the surface of the body, by which the deposits of insensible perspiration are disengaged from the pores of the skin, and combining together fall from the person like fibres of paste, which, to the uninitiated, might seem like the peeling off of the outer pellicle itself. in this process consists the real virtue of a hamam, and to it alone is to be attributed the peculiar velvet-like softness of the skin of an oriental, which even gives them an air of effeminacy. immediately after the process of shampooing or rubbing, the marble font having been filled with water of the desired temperature, it is poured over the person of the bather from the brass tass, or bowl, used for the purpose by the attendant. the person is now thoroughly washed with perfumed soap, again water is poured over him in abundance, and he is finally enveloped in the havlous, or large napped towels, manufactured in the country expressly for the purpose, and admirably adapted to absorb moisture. now perfectly purified, with a sensation of languor, the bather proceeds to the dressing saloon, where, as he reclines upon luxurious cushions, his whole being seems momentarily lost in that dreamy repose of half-conscious existence, which is the true kief of an oriental. he is only awakened to real life by the assiduities of his attendants, some gently fanning him, and others presenting sherbet, coffee, pipes, etc. the fatigue and languor gradually pass away, as, with a sensation of renovated existence, he reposes until the heat of his body is reduced to its natural temperature. his toilette being completed, he surveys himself in a small enamelled mirror which is offered to him, and after depositing upon it the amount of money compatible with his own station in life, he quits the precincts of this luxurious establishment, light, joyful, and contented. the hamams being altogether charitable institutions, there is no fixed price demanded from visitors, for the use of the bath itself--it being entirely left to their own option. but the personal services of the attendants, and the wear and tear of the splendid bathing paraphernalia not being included in the same category, an adequate remuneration is of course expected. this also is left to individual generosity; in ordinary cases, from half to three quarters of a dollar is sufficient, but there may be no limit to a person's munificence, nor to the attentions bestowed upon him. a gentleman of rank once visited a bath where he was an entire stranger, and although he was not treated with even ordinary politeness, he left on his departure a sum of money far beyond the expectations of the attendants, which, opening their eyes, forced them to make a thousand apologies for their remissness, and protestations for the future. the gentleman soon after gave them an opportunity to retrieve their former errors, and contrary to their excited hopes rewarded them with a couple of piasters (about 8 cents) observing, "this is what you merited on my first visit, and what you then received is the equivalent for your present services." the money collected at the bath is divided into two portions; one of which is for the hamamgy, or proprietor, and the other is shared among the attendants. many of the public bathing houses are divided into two parts, one for men, and the other for women, and when the establishment is not a double one, fridays and sundays only are reserved for men, and the rest of the week allotted to the ladies. there are always exquisite specimens of these hamams attached to the houses of the wealthy; and their friends and neighbors are often invited to partake with them of this amusement. as the osmanli ladies very seldom enjoy the excitement and bustle of a crowd, they consider the occasion of going to bathe as one of the greatest festivity; and they always carry with them every article necessary for comfort or luxury, the hamamgy not furnishing mattresses, towels, etc., as in the case of the gentlemen. besides the opportunity of displaying embroidered cushions, napkins, etc., they find rare and ample amusement in the discussion of scandal, moral and political, as well as general domestic gossip. the tout ensemble of a lady's bath is one altogether peculiar, and of course more enchanting to the eye than the ablutions of their lords and masters. the following description of a visit to a bath by a lady long a resident in constantinople, may be interesting as the result of personal observation and experience. "my first turkish bath--shall i describe it, dear?--we were a large party. the mother, her three daughters, three maids, and my humble self. you would have supposed we were arranging our wardrobes for a long season of travel--except that the garments would be rather unpresentable on ordinary occasions. very peculiar nappy towels, large as sheets, issued forth from their repose in the vast closets, white and colored, embroidered and fringed; head-gear of the same style; curious-looking yellow woollen mittens, to rub with, they told me; innumerable shining bowls; tremendous stilt-like clogs for the feet, great bars of soap, precious packages of dyes, paints, capillary antidotes, perfumes, essences, mirrors in embroidered frames, and a thousand other etceteras of oriental toilette, in due order entered the vast bundles which were in preparation. next appeared a beautiful rug or carpet, a rich silken mattress and cushions, and a large piece of crimson woollen, shaggy material, to envelope the cushions, such as i have frequently seen spread in the beautiful cayiks. really one would have supposed we were to be deposited in some unfurnished dwelling with all this paraphernalia. "then came the private wardrobe of each individual neatly folded in a separate envelope--and last but not least; the most refreshing array of fruit, sherbets, and a curious machine, some five stories high, in whose different compartments were packed various specimens of turkish cookery. i began to wonder if we were ever to return from this bathing pic-nic, so vast were the preparations; but every one was gay, and nothing was tiresome. besides we always go to bathe in this style, at least once a month. "our carriage waited at the door, a grand spacious one, covered with crimson shag, the ends trimmed with deep fringes of gold--no seats, but plenty of cushions, and two milk-white oxen were our steeds. "having duly veiled ourselves, that our 'ornaments' or charms might not be displayed to the eyes of the unprivileged, we ascended the steps at the end of our araba, and were seated according to our respective ranks. the old lady and myself occupying the honorable places in the front, just behind the tails of the oxen, which were fortunately looped up, so that they could neither switch us, nor themselves. there is a decided advantage in this seat, the view being unobstructed by any coachman, as that dignitary always walks before the head of the animals. next to us were the three hanums, behind whom were the maids and bundles, and the large pannier was slung underneath full of its creature comforts. "i felt as if i had suddenly been transformed into a houri, as they all declared that the yashmak converted me into a real circassian beauty. in due time we arrived, and descended from our airy vehicle. as we entered the outer hall of the bath, each one made a polite temennah to the hamamgy-kadun, or the lady proprietress, who was squatting on her cushions in a corner. this salutation she returned, to all genuine turkish ladies (myself included) with the same polite gesture--but the unfortunate giavours only received a slight nod, no matter how profound their selams. it is well to be queen somewhere, even of a bathing establishment. "the maids, eleny, maria, and sophy, spread out our cushions in one of the niches upon the elevated platform, and as they modestly held up a towel as a screen, we proceeded to reduce ourselves to a state of nature. enveloped from head to feet in our bathing habiliments, which hung about us in just such folds as they drape the statues--we willingly thrust our pedestrial extremities into the great clogs, inlaid with mother of pearl, entered the antechamber of the bath, and sat down on the marble platform to acclimate ourselves. here we take a coup d'oeil of the strange scene. "old women without any charms to conceal, spare themselves the effort, and multitudes of naked cherubs patter about. yonder sits a victim to paints and dyes--her hair now white, suddenly becomes beautifully black, and the colour streaming over her body bedecks her for the moment à l'indienne. but that was all washed off, and they proceeded to rub a sort of mud all over her body, to take out the pains. then she underwent a process of pommelling, as she was stretched out on the marble floor--poor thing, she had both rheumatism and grey hairs, and was a fit subject for the most special and extra efforts of the attendants of the bath. but the children! such victims, of all ages, from one month upwards, were screaming to the highest pitch of their little voices, as they were unmercifully rubbed and lathered from the crown of their heads to the soles of their feet. 'rough up and smooth down,' seemed to be no part of the nursery creed of their unmerciful mothers, but rough all ways. amid these infantile yells and agonies, the girls, young and pretty, walked up and down, pattering with their clogs, and chanting their wild native melodies, as if to put out all other noises, and the great marble halls did their best to re-echo all these floating sounds. "was i in paradise or pandemonium; were these peris or demons, i could not tell; everything was so bewildering. i was duly rubbed, and washed like the rest--then it was proposed to take lunch. our party en déshabillé de-pechetemal, which means, crimson faces and napkin drapery, with long and dripping hair, sea nymphs--maids of the mist--seated themselves on the marble platform in the cooler room, and the large round tray made its appearance. "how delicious the iced sherbet, the little balls of rice covered with delicate vine leaves--the artichokes à l'huile d'olive, the kebab, the helva--in a word, spite of the strange table, strange costume, and general humidity, we all had tremendous appetites. "then, came a chibouk to the old lady, little cigarettes to the young maidens--a delicious cup of coffee, and we all raised our voices in a sweet turkish song, about loves, jessamines, güle and bülbüls. "being thus recruited, we were able to undergo the last ablutions, and with a complete investment of pure white and delicately perfumed towels, we proceeded to our first niche in the great dressing-room, and laid us down to dream, or listlessly to watch the innumerable toilettes of the devotees to venus and love. "some, all fair and rosy, were reclining luxuriously like ourselves, enveloped in fine white drapery, richly embroidered and fringed with gold, while their beautiful slaves, whose charming figures were not so carefully concealed, were combing, braiding, and perfuming the long silken tresses of the fair hanums. "after we had amused ourselves at the indifference of the really beautiful, and the minute and strenuous efforts of others to appear so, we again sipped our coffee and completed our toilette, ready at any time, to spend another day in such delightful aquatic luxuries. i could not help contrasting my sensations with those i had often felt on leaving one of the bathing establishments in my own country. there, a solitary closet, a tub, from which perhaps some dirty wench had just emerged, a hook or two, a dirty flesh brush for general service, etc. true, the warm water was agreeable, and for the moment caused an oblivion of all antecedents, the hook convenient, and the brush need not be used. after an immersion of perhaps half an hour, you hurry on your apparel, and hurry home, all à l'américaine. but here, in this turkish bath, how imperceptibly a whole day had passed away, how entertaining the scene, how beautiful the fair handmaidens of nature, so soft and pure, after their watery festivities. their skin so white, their lips so red, the delicate rosy tinge of their cheeks so tempting; even old age seemed to bloom again, while a universal exhilaration took possession of us all. a delicate tissue of softness seemed to envelop my body, and a wonderful feeling of amiability and love for all the race of human kind glowed within my breast. every motion gave me pleasure, and i could scarce recognize myself. alas! for american ladies, they can never feel the true oriental kief in bathing; for they have no cushions to repose upon, no softly murmuring fountains to lull their senses, nor any such relaxation from all external and internal woes, as follows a turkish bath. in vain they tinge their complexions, powder, and wash, they cannot attain this to kalon of beauty, nor be electrified by this wand of enchantment, which renders the humblest cinderella of the orient lovely as a princess, and says avaunt to all the modern mysteries of the toilette." chapter xxxv. the rayas or non-mussulman subjects. the armenians. the whole population of turkey may be estimated at over 35,000,000 of souls, including the principalities and other tributary states, which, if deducted, leaves 27,000,000 in turkey proper, half of whom are mohammedans, and the rest christians and jews. the christians are of various denominations, each denomination constituting a separate community, governed by their own municipal regulations, and guided by their respective spiritual heads. hitherto the europeans have regarded the greeks as the predominating christian population of the east; the truth is, among the different communities the armenians stand most prominent, because not only next to the bulgarians they rank high in numbers, but in reality supersede all others, politically and morally, in their relations with turkey. although the bosnians, bulgarians, and the greeks profess the same religion, they do not surrender their respective nationalities. the greeks themselves are not, therefore, so numerous as is generally supposed, but have erroneously been confounded with the others. the armenians, of whom there are 3,500,000 in turkey, like other nations, have evinced their pride in national pedigree, by tracing their origin to haig, the grandson of noah, and they call themselves haiks even at the present day. in the year of the creation of the world, 1757, jewish chronology, soon after the flood, and even during the lifetime of noah, haig, or haicus, with his sons and daughters, resided in the country of senaar, in mesapotamia. while they lived in those regions, the famous tower of babel was erected, and the babylonian empire was founded by belus. haig, unwilling to submit to the authority of belus, returned with his family, of about 300 persons, to the country of ararat, where he incorporated himself with the earliest settlers in those regions, who had never wandered thence, and retained all the undisciplined habits and freedom of their utter seclusion from the progress of civilization. it is more than probable that he and his descendants continued to speak the language of their father noah, and in that case there is no more ancient tongue than the armenian. besides, while the descendants of shem and ham emigrated to other lands, those of japhet who begat gomer who begat togarmah, the father of haig remained in the vicinity of ararat, and there is no reason to suppose ever changed their language. the biblical history records the confusion of languages of those who were in the land of shinar. the armenians are as ancient as the jews, and have ever remained as separate a people; and even amid all their vicissitudes have preserved their nationality with equal tenacity. but haig was not left long in quiet, for belus, fearing that he would become too powerful a rival, marched against him with his warriors all clad in iron armour. yet destiny was about to found a great nation, and the small band of haig proved victorious--an arrow from the bow of haig, transfixed the proud belus as he was retiring. thus was the first impetus given to this embryo empire. victory and the spoils of war inflamed their breasts and strengthened their resources; cities were erected, one on the very spot of this battle. haig was a man of noble appearance, and superior intellect, which must have had a perfect development during his long life of five hundred years. his immediate descendants built fortified towns, adorned with palaces, and caravanserais. a very beautiful city was built by semiramis, the queen of babylon, which occupied 12,000 workmen and 600 architects. she was enamored of arah, the armenian king, who was surnamed the handsome, and being a widow wished to marry him. but he, disgusted at her demonstrations of excessive fondness, refused the alliance. the consequence was, that she determined to take him by force, and marched with her troops into his dominions. but all she obtained was the dead body of the beautiful young armenian prince, which she endeavored to restore to life by magical incantations. the beauty of the country and her own romantic associations, inspired her with the desire to erect a monument of her magnificence, and she founded the city of shamiram, now called bitlis, on the borders of lake van, which became ever after her summer residence. the armenians enjoyed a long period of prosperity, waging successful wars with the syrians, medes, persians, and other neighboring nations, until they were at last conquered by alexander the great, and remained tributary to him for 176 years, under governors appointed by him and by his successors the seleucidæ. they now changed masters, and enjoyed great prosperity under the arsacidæ or parthians who freed them from the seleucian yoke. their prosperity lasted for 580 years, until internal dissensions rendered them easy victims to the intrigues of the greeks and persians, who eventually divided this beautiful domain between them. oppression of all sorts, spiritual and temporal, now pervaded the once peaceful and happy homes of this fated race. royal blood could not quench the fire of its rage, profusely shed by the princes, in defence of their people and religion. idolatry was enshrined upon the altars, and the priesthood sacrificed to fire and tortured upon the rack. a temporary relief was afforded to the country by the rise of the bagratian princes, who were the descendants of abraham, and who first came into armenia during the captivity of the jews under nebuchadnezzar. bagarat, the founder of this jewish line of princes, was distinguished in the reign of valarsace, and was appointed by him to the hereditary office of placing the crown upon the king's head, and all his descendants were known as the bagratians. now it happened that ashot, one of their number, so pleased the caliph in his administration of the affairs of his own tribe, that in the year 859 a. d., he appointed him governor of armenia, and dispatched aali-ermeny, an apostate armenian, to invest him with magnificent robes of state. although the nation was again restored to comparative tranquillity under this race of princes, yet internal disunion and foreign oppression did not cease to harass the country, and the greeks finally destroyed the bagratian monarchy. but melik-shah, of persia, regained his sway over armenia, and the power of the greeks was thenceforth annihilated. the armenian princes of the line of reuben now governed the country, and it was during their reign that the crusaders took jerusalem; and while they were besieging antioch, constantine, the second of these armenian princes, supplied the army with provisions. he was in return made a marquis, and received the order of knighthood, besides many valuable presents. this line of princes was extirpated by the egyptians, who poured an immense and devastating army into their country, and after besieging leo, the last king, for nine months, took him and all his family to cairo, with all the royal treasures. they remained in prison seven years, because they refused to renounce christianity. by the intervention of king juan, of spain, they were set at liberty, and received from him many valuable possessions, such as houses and lands. king leo even appealed to england and france to assist him in regaining the throne of armenia, but without any good success. he died in paris, a. d. 1393, and was buried in the convent of celestine. his wife mary, who belonged to the family of lewis charles, king of hungary, died at jerusalem. the armenians next fell into the power of the ottomans; with their last king their glory perished. the sunrise over mount ararat, the meridian brightness over the fairest portion of asia, and the last departing rays shed over the regions of silicia, are all merged into the dark pages of history--where but few ever seek to read the tale. the ancient religion of the armenians was that of the magi, but the introduction of christianity among them was coeval with christ. abgar, one of their kings, having had occasion to send ambassadors to the roman general marinus, in syria, upon the return of his messengers, was apprised of the wonderful and miraculous performances of the messiah. giving a ready credence to the report that this was indeed the son of god, a second embassy was sent to entreat the great healer of the sick to visit the king abgar, who was laboring under a distressing malady. the letter was as follows: "i have heard that the jews murmur against you, and seek to destroy you. i have a small but beautiful city, which i offer you to partake with me. it is sufficient for us both." it is said that the saviour received this embassy with much satisfaction, and dictated to the apostle thomas this remarkable reply,--"when i shall rise to my glory, i will send you one of my disciples, who shall remove your pains, and give life to you and those around you." after the ascension of christ, according to his request, thaddeus, one of the seventy, was sent to edessa, who, having instructed the king in the true faith, baptized him and the citizens of that metropolis. the seeds of christianity were thus early sown in armenia, still but little progress was made until the appearance of gregory of cesarea, three centuries later, who created such a revival of this faith, that he was called the illuminator, and his followers, the gregorians. the armenian resembles the greek church in some respects. they are both episcopal in their government. both acknowledge the trinity, and the immaculacy of the holy virgin, and perform the ceremony of the lord's supper, or the mass, with even more pomp than the catholics. the armenians believe the divine and human nature of christ to be so blended as to form but one; whereas the greeks declare them to be entirely separate. therefore the former, in administering the eucharist, use only wine, and unleavened bread, and the latter mingle water with the wine, and use leaven in the bread. the armenians, in case of necessity, partake of the holy sacrament in other christian churches, whereas the greeks acknowledge no church ceremonies as canonical but their own; always re-baptizing those who may wish to come under their spiritual jurisdiction. their manner of signing the cross even differs, the one making it from left to right, and the other from right to left. they celebrate the church festivals on different days, and find many other occasions on which to disagree. the armenians are not, therefore, to be confounded with the greeks, nor with that sect called arminians, or the followers of arminius, but as a distinct people, originally inhabiting the country about mount ararat, and professing christianity at an early period. the reason why they are known to the western nations as the armenians, and not by their proper name, haiks, is, that when aram, one of their early kings, and the father of ara the handsome, succeeded to the throne of armenia, he, by his wisdom and policy, so greatly extended his dominions, that the power and valor of the nation was acknowledged from mount caucasus to mount tauris. this prince first raised his people to any degree of renown, both by the exercise of arms and the cultivation of the arts of peace; so that contemporary nations, in making mention of the actions performed by his subjects, called them the deeds of the aramians, or the followers of aram, a name which has been corrupted into armenians; the country which these people originally inhabited was called by them haikastan, or hayasdan, and those regions which were added to their territories by the conquest of prince aram were called aramia, or in contradistinction to each other, the former were called the greater, and the latter the lesser hayasdan, which the western nations transcribed as armenia major and minor. it will be perceived that they were at one time a very powerful and flourishing nation, and were the envy of all the neighboring tribes; facts well authenticated even by roman historians. in the reign of tigranes, many unfortunate princes, who had fallen prisoners to the armenian king, were obliged to stand in his presence in an attitude of oriental deference, with arms folded on their breasts, in token of perfect submission. four of these wretched monarchs had also to attend him constantly in their regal robes, and when he appeared in public on horseback, his royal captives preceded him on foot. mithridates, the uncle to the king tigranes, rendered himself no less glorious. he extended his dominions even to the borders of scythia. his subjects and tributaries comprised twenty-two nations; and it is related that this prince conversed with equal fluency in all the languages spoken by those peoples. even hannibal, the great carthaginian general, found an asylum in armenia. in the time of their greatest prosperity, they amounted to 30,000,000 of souls, but constant wars, with their attendant train of famine, disease, and death, have sadly diminished their numbers, and reduced them to less than five millions. the depopulated condition of their provinces, and the internal dissension of their princes, favored the depredatory invasions of various nations, romans, greeks, persians, saracens, and scythians, or turks. these last finally crossing over the caspian mountains in hordes, subjugated them, and took possession of their immense territories, and have ever since held them in bondage. the armenians were the first christians who were subjugated by the mussulmans, and as they were the earliest christian subjects, they became, in their mutual relations, the model or measure for all succeeding conquests; for the turks, profiting by their first experience, ever after practised accordingly. the conquerors, imbued with a spirit of islamism, added to their barbarities a system of religious persecution. the cruelties which they committed on the inhabitants were horrible in the extreme. aged men and women were often tied in pairs, and then together cut in halves. pregnant women were frequently ripped open, and their unborn babes wantonly thrown into the air; infants sucking at the breast were torn from the arms, and massacred before the eyes of their distracted mothers, so that human blood flowed in torrents throughout the country, and well may the osmanlis of the present day regard the very name of turk opprobrious, as it reminds them of former barbarities. at last these persecutions and cruelties ceased; for perceiving the advantages which they might derive from this hardy and industrious race, and finding them also strong and enthusiastic in their faith, the persecutors moderated their religious ardor, and adopting a more politic course, opened negotiations with the armenians, and willingly compromised by making them tributaries, with the payment of kharadj, or poll tax, as recommended by the koran; and by kind promises for the future, their servitude was rendered more tolerable. besides, with the design of ruling them through religions prejudices, the armenians were granted the privilege of being governed by one of their own priesthood, to whom they gave the title of patrik, or patriarch. the people being now deprived of all civil rights, regarded this patriarch as the sole bond of national unity. the turks, on their part, finding it an easy policy to govern the mass through one individual, allowed great privileges to this office, and the free exercise of the principles of their own religion in its administration. the power of the patriarch was so unlimited, that he could even levy taxes, punish any person with the bastinado, imprison, or send into exile. national enthusiasm and the politic tolerance of their conquerors, in the course of time, led the patriarchs into the abuse of their privileges. cloaked though they were under the mantle of religion, their despotism was not always exempt from impunity. for the people, long accustomed to regard the church apart from temporal authorities, could not brook such conduct in their high priest, and therefore there has always been a strife between them and the priesthood. the government has sometimes sustained the popular will, and at others, the rights of the pontiff, as interest or policy required. this community constitutes the very life of turkey, for the turks long accustomed to rule rather than serve, have relinquished to them all branches of industry. hence the armenians are the bankers, merchants, mechanics, and traders of all sorts in turkey. besides, there exists a congeniality of sentiment and community of interest between them and the mussulmans. for, being originally from the same region, they were alike in their habits and feelings; therefore, easily assimilating themselves to their conquerors, they gained their confidence, and became and still are the most influential of all the rayas. there is not a pasha, or a grandee, who is not indebted to them, either pecuniarily, or for his promotion, and the humblest peasant owes them the value of the very seed he sows; so that without them the osmanlis could not survive a single day. this is a fact so well attested, that russia, with the design of undermining turkey, always endeavored to gain over this part of the population, and in 1828, when she took possession of erzeroum, she enticed the armenians of that place to acts of violence and revenge against the turks, so that when the russians retired, the armenians were obliged to emigrate with them. besides, in the demarcation of her boundaries with turkey, she so managed as to embody etchmiadzin, the see of the high pontiff of the armenians, within her own territories, for the express purpose of governing them through their spiritual head. even the correspondent of the london morning post, in speaking of the corruptions of the country, in his ribaldry, termed the armenians the cloaca of turkey, accusing them of being the means through whom all the filth passed. naturally endowed with a brave and warlike spirit; of noble and intelligent appearance, and great athletic vigor, their services have ever been invaluable to the country; it has only been their protracted servitude which has reduced them to the timid and cautious temperament that they now possess. some have even distinguished themselves as statesmen, patriots, and faithful servants. had it not been for the good advice and diplomacy of abro, or, as he is commonly known to europe, of boghos bey, mehmed aali could not have secured to his heirs the independence of egypt. again, at the conclusion of the last war with russia, when sultan mahmoud was writhing under his inability to meet the peremptory demands of his enemy, an armenian came to his rescue. kazaz artyn was a most noted personage of the armenian nation. having risen from the lowest rank in life, he finally became the head of the royal mint, and the friend and factotum of his majesty sultan mahmoud, who never passed a day without seeing him. he was so much beloved by his imperial master, that although he was a giavour, his majesty visited him at his last hours. this condescension was not only remarkable in the king, but more wonderful in a mussulman; for the koran forbids all intimacy with christians. "o true believers, take not the jews or christians for your friends; they are friends the one to the other; but whoso among you taketh them for his friends, he is surely one of them." this passage explains the antipathy of the mohammedans to all christians, as well as to the institutions of christianity. sultan mahmoud being of an imperious nature, waived such religious considerations when impelled by gratitude, and no one of the ministry dared to breathe a censure against the imperial will; for as sultan, he was not only above the law, but the law itself. besides, every one knew the extent of kazaz artyn's services to his royal master. at the end of the last war, when the russian indemnities were to be paid, there was not a single piaster in the treasury. the sultan, in despair, shut himself up, and forbade any one to approach him; but, reckless of consequences, kazaz artyn rushed into the royal presence, and anxiously begged to be informed the cause of his majesty's grief. "the muscovite giavours are insisting upon their indemnities, and i am told the treasury is empty." whereupon kazaz artyn assured his majesty that their demands should be met, even on the very next day. he accordingly summoned all the bankers, and collected the necessary funds, which were transmitted to the russian embassy to their utter astonishment, in the course of twenty-four hours. this money remained at the russian embassy, out of which they were accustomed to pay the salaries of the whole legation, etc. the bankers were afterwards repaid in beshliks, a species of spurious coin, which are now being redeemed by the present sultan. the cultivation of the arts and sciences were of an early origin with the armenians. in the reign of valarsace, the parthian, 150 b. c. the archives of nineveh were searched by maribas, and made to contribute to the literature of the nation; and during arsaces' reign, the city of armavir was embellished with several pieces of beautiful statuary, which were taken from the greeks. three, in particular, those of diana, hercules, and apollo, well executed, brazen and gilt, were from the hands of the celebrated cretan artists scyllis and dipænus. duin, ani, edessa, and several other cities, were noted for their architectural beauties, and, considering that armenia is coeval with the babylonian empire, there is no reason to doubt, that researches into its territories would be as interesting, as those of mossoul. the armenians having no alphabet of their own, adopted the characters of other nations, viz., the syriac in religious writings, the greek in scientific works, and the persian for statutes of law. but at the commencement of the 5th century, a monk, mesrop by name, invented the present characters, which have been in use ever since. they are neat in appearance, and capable of representing any articulate sound; thirty nine in number, and styled by lord byron, a waterloo of an alphabet. there is no doubt that they early possessed some literature of their own, prior to the invention of their alphabet, for even the writings of eusebius were originally discovered in the archives of the armenians. many very eminent works, generally in mss. on martyrology and the affairs of the church, are still extant, and it is reported that the old monasteries in armenia contain records of history, which, if brought to light, would prove great additions to the annals of very ancient times. they boast of classic authors, to whom lord byron alludes in eulogistic terms, and the works of moses of khoren, which have been translated, are highly appreciated by the literati of europe. the armenians of the present day are also many of them distinguished for their acquisitions in both armenian and turkish literature; and so great is their aptitude for acquiring languages, that they are often well versed in the various dialects of europe. even the children are in the daily habit of speaking three different languages, viz., turkish, armenian, and greek. in their domestic relations, living in constant intercourse with the osmanlis, and the lapse of time throwing the veil of oblivion over their past sufferings, all their habits of life and general ideas have become assimilated to those of their masters, with those distinctions only, which result from the tenets of their faith. self-respect has forced them to seclude their women from the public, and hence they have the same domestic arrangements, style of dress, etc., as those of the osmanlis. their social institutions, like other orientals, are very patriarchal, every man being a monarch in his own family, and the children are educated to observe the greatest deference and respect to their parents. no son or daughter ever dreams of contracting a marriage on their own responsibility, but the destined bride is selected by the mother and her friends, and is thankfully accepted by the happy son. the betrothal having been arranged with all due ceremony, the wedding takes place at the appointed time. the marriage ceremonies are celebrated both at the house of the bride and of the bridegroom during three days. the bride is conducted by the bridegroom and his friends to the house of her intended husband, and the ceremony is performed on sunday at midnight. the bride, muffled and tinselled, is conducted to a carpet in the middle of the saloon, where she is placed opposite to the chosen bridegroom. their right hands are joined by the officiating priest, and they are severally demanded whether they will "love, cherish, and honor each other." the man is also asked, as he stands opposite to this mass of shawls and tinsel, "will you take this girl, whether she be lame, or deaf, or humped, or blind," to which he responds with due resignation, "even so i will take her." a silken cord, twisted of two colors, is now tied round the head of each, and after a long service, reading of prayers and chanting, the happy pair are pronounced man and wife! the bride, over whose varying emotions during the interesting ceremonies an impenetrable veil was suspended, is now led by two attendants to a corner of the sofa, where she is temporarily enthroned on a cushion. the propitious moment has at last arrived, and the legalized husband may ascertain for himself the measure of charms to which he is allied. while the agitated maiden sits, oppressed by shawls and tinsel, and internal anxiety as to the effect she may produce upon her future lord, he slowly approaches, pale and tottering--for he has sworn to have her, blind or hump-backed. with such alternatives, even a moderate share of good-looks, or the mere absence of actual deformity, would almost constitute beauty. the attendant bridemaids exultingly raise the veil, and the new husband ventures to take one look of love and admiration, in return for which he places a valuable ring on her finger, and slowly retreats to muse upon his fate, which is not often so deplorable, for the armenian girls are generally pretty. at all events, he submits with the best grace, for, unlike his mohammedan compatriots, he has no retrieve or door of escape, but must abide by his bargain "till death us do part." the veil is again dropped, and the bride left to her own meditations. she receives presents from all the guests, so that the tickets of admission to an armenian wedding are no trivial affairs to one's pockets. three days after the ceremony, the newly married couple are at length left to a better acquaintance, unmolested by veils or spectators. the sunday following, the bridegroom proceeds to his father-in-law's house, to acknowledge his gratitude for the possession of such a charming treasure, etc., all which is expressed by the ceremony of kissing the hands of the parents of the maiden, and this sunday is called, par excellence, the "kissing sunday." these are the real armenians; but about a hundred and fifty years ago there was a secession in favor of catholicism. the catholic armenians, of whom there are about fifteen thousand in the metropolis, and seventy-five thousand throughout turkey, although distinct from the roman catholics, have assimilated themselves, in many respects, to european habits; forgetting their nationality and language, and aping customs and usages they do not even understand; so much so, that a very amusing work has been written in armeno-turkish under the title of acaby, as a burlesque upon such inclinations. they are not, therefore, to be confounded with the orthodox armenians. chapter xxxvi. the greeks. the greeks, who sent the trophies of their versatile genius, their graceful architectural adornings, and exquisite paintings to the temples at rome, and over the western world, whose classic lore is yet the theme and model of the learned, once gloried in the possession of the proud stamboul. about a century after its foundation by constantine, it is said to have possessed "a capital, a school of learning, a circus, two theatres, eight public and one hundred and fifty-three private baths, fifty-two porticoes, five granaries, eight aqueducts of water, four spacious halls of justice, fourteen churches, fourteen palaces, and four thousand and three hundred and eighty-eight houses, which, for their size and beauty, deserved to be distinguished from the multitude of plebeian habitations." the magnificent temple ayia-sophia, dedicated to the goddess of divine wisdom, rose like a phoenix from its ruins, under the liberal patronage of justinian, and the assiduous labors of ten thousand workmen during five years, eleven months, and ten days. this was the shrine of the greek faith, and those walls glittering with golden mosaic and precious stones, re-echoed the kyrie eleêson of the adoring christians. the magnificent altar of precious metals and glittering gems witnessed the prostrations of patriarchs and their acolyths--and the impenetrable veil was suspended before the holy of holies. the great city was the arena for the sports of the pleasure-loving greeks; sometimes in the race of wild beasts with each other, and again in the more terrible contests of the gladiators. the bosphorus was alive with human freight, youths and maidens, wooed by its blue and sparkling waves, delighted to dream of love as they glided over the gently-heaving waters. the shores were gay and gladsome, as the enamored throng tripped through the mazes of their fantastic romaica to the tinkling music. but the grecian prince is hurled from his throne, and the grave and sombre moslem sits there, the despot and bloody conqueror. the great temple, which rivalled even that of solomon, is suddenly divested of the symbols of a christian faith. its mosaics of the saints which adorn the walls are obliterated, its cherubim are torn down, its altar demolished, and nothing left of all the gorgeous decorations. the bare, unadorned niche--the mihrab or index to the temple of mohammed, is instituted, and "allah-il-allah," is henceforth the cry of the faithful. yet, they say, the distant chant of the last officiating priest of the greek religion still lingers within the walls, from whence he will issue when the edifice is restored to its original worship. sports are over--maidens and youths are coy of their charms, for a change has come over the spirit of their dreams. the liberty of woman is shackled, and the dominion of seclusion established. certain quarters of the city are assigned to the greek subjects--and externally their very dwellings assume the dusky tints of bondage and ruin. truly their glory has departed, and their name as a nation is only sustained by the shades of their ancient heroes, who even after their last degenerate descendant has mouldered into dust, will continue to flit around the civilized world, scattering the scintillations of early genius amid earth's darkness. yet, as it is their nature to boast, they point into the past, and even one day hope to sit on the throne of their ancestors eis tin polin of yore. there are no less than a million and a half of greeks in the turkish dominions, of whom 150,000 live in the capital. at the time of their conquest, the turks allowed them the same municipal immunities and privileges as they had done to the armenians. as the greeks seemed to approximate more nearly to the western nations in their habits, than any of the other rayahs, the osmanlis supposed them more fitted to act as intermediaries between themselves and the european states; they therefore became the first interpreters of the divan. many of their number have thus risen to wealth and distinction, and after long services they even succeeded to the government of the danubian principalities--yet the osmanlis have never felt the same sympathy and confidence towards them as for the armenians, who, though not so advanced in civilization, possess better stamina of character, greater honesty, and more congeniality of temperament. many greeks, even now, occupy places of trust, which are confided to them rather from political motives than as marks of peculiar confidence. the office of saraf or banker, which is equivalent to homme de confiance, has never been successfully filled by them, though attempts have been made to do so; this post has invariably been assigned to the armenians. it is customary with the osmanli grandee, when appointed to some high station in the provinces, before their departure, to leave with their banker a certain number of blanks to be filled by him whenever occasion should require their use. and many even entrust their personal property to the sarafs on their pilgrimage to mecca, for safe keeping. one of the principal dignitaries of the present day, who is reputed for his irascible temper, was some years ago involved in a dilemma. one of his attendants was found to be guilty of a liaison with a slave in his harem. the circumstances were aggravating, and his pride could not be satisfied, save by dire revenge; and the two, instead of being married, according to the custom of the country, fell victims to his fury. but after the commission of the rash act, he repented, and began to fear the disgrace which would probably fall on himself. in his perplexity he sent for his old armenian saraf, and when closeted with him, poured his sorrows into the bosom of his confidant, relating to him the whole circumstance, weeping bitterly for his act, and asking advice and consolation. now, no osmanli has as yet evinced such confidence and sympathy towards the greeks. besides, the pride of the mussulmans is not compromised in associating with the armenians, who are so much like their masters in manners and language, that often it is impossible to detect any difference. on the contrary, although some of the greeks have distinguished themselves in oriental literature, especially yacobaky, in his history of russia, written in elegant turkish, yet they have never been able to speak the language of the country correctly. the moment they open their mouths, out leaps the native accent. this is equally true of the french and other languages, and even their own beautiful hellenic can scarce ever be heard in stamboul, a miserable, mongrel island dialect being the substitute. the character of the greeks of constantinople is thus admirably portrayed by the author of anastasius, the best work extant on turkey. "the complexion of the modern greek may receive a different cast from different surrounding objects; the core still is the same as in the days of pericles. credulity, versatility, and thirst of distinction, from the earliest periods formed, still form, and ever will continue to form, the basis of the greek character; and the dissimilarity in the external appearance of the nation arises, not from any radical change in its temper and disposition, but only from the incidental variation in the means through which the same propensities are to be gratified. the ancient greeks worshipped a hundred gods, the modern greeks adore as many saints. the ancient greeks believed in oracles and prodigies, in incantations and spells; the modern greeks have faith in relics and miracles, in amulets and divinations. the ancient greeks brought rich offerings and gifts to the shrines of their deities, for the purpose of obtaining success in war, and pre-eminence in peace; the modern greeks hang up dirty rags round the sanctuaries of their saints, to shake off an ague, or propitiate a mistress. the former were staunch patriots at home, and subtle courtiers in persia; the latter defy the turks in mayno, and fawn upon them at the fanar. besides, was not every commonwealth of ancient greece as much a prey to cabals and factions as every community of modern greece? does not every modern greek preserve the same desire for supremacy, the same readiness to undermine, by every means, fair or foul, his competitors, which was displayed by his ancestors? do not the turks of the present day resemble the romans of past ages in their respect for the ingenuity, and at the same time, in their contempt for the character of their greek subjects? and does the greek of the fanar show the least inferiority to the greek of the piræus in quickness of perception, in fluency of tongue, and in fondness for quibbles, for disputation, and for sophistry? believe me, the very difference between the greeks of time past and of the present day arises only from their thorough resemblance, from that equal pliability of temper and of faculties in both, which has ever made them receive, with equal readiness, the impression of every mould, and the impulse of every agent. when patriotism, public spirit, and pre-eminence in arts, science, literature, and warfare were the road to distinction, the greeks shone the first of patriots, of heroes, of painters, of poets, and of philosophers. now that craft and subtlety, adulation, and intrigue, are the only paths to greatness, these same greeks are--what you see them!" although the armenians have borne the first impetus of mussulman fanaticism, and consequently suffered more than any other christian subjects, yet the greeks excel them in their animosity towards their conquerors. this is owing to their excessive bigotry, and it is recorded that even while the enemy was before the gates of constantinople, they were discussing the great question, whether the holy ghost proceeded from the father or the son. this disposition to cavil on religious points, has made them a ready prey to the domineering priesthood who have completely swayed the multitude. these priests being a mean and grovelling set, utterly indifferent to the moral elevation of their people, are ever ready to make traffic of the sins of those who are still more ignorant than themselves; the consequence is, that lying, cheating, stealing, and other immoralities to any extent, are very common among this community, for a few piastres, or even paras, cancel the crime and lull the conscience. the whole community suffers from such a system, as business and other necessities bring them into constant contact. the servants are generally greek, and there is no virtue in lock and key in any house. you suddenly find your wardrobe emptied by imperceptible degrees, and the jars of preserves gradually diminish, as they are repeatedly licked and sleeked over again. divorces are easily obtained, or they are granted after the priest has extorted the last para he can from the applicant. the corruption of the masses through their spiritual leaders is painfully evident. the most dire superstition rules every mind, and the veriest knaves, and even prostitutes, follow their injurious callings without compunction, if under the patronage of one of their saints. christos kai panayiaumo is an expiatory charm, and the dingy portrait of any saint in the calendar annihilates the bad effects of every crime. the most abandoned class of women are generally greeks; and while they perform the obscene rites of bacchus and venus, they watch with holy trembling the twinkling taper which burns night and day before the anointed picture of their guardian angel. this flame, like the vestal fire, is never suffered to go out, if perchance, dii avertite omen! the greek islands furnish a miserable set of men and women to the population of turkey, who come to gather spoils in the metropolis, and then return to enjoy them at home. robberies, and even assassinations are committed by them, which, if they are detected, are either protected by the greek legation, or punished by a short imprisonment, and then the miscreants are again let loose, hardened in crime, and thirsting to revenge their temporary detention. it is only within the last two years, that a famous bandit, in the vicinity of smyrna, has been captured. katurjy yanny and his merry men had long infested the neighboring mountains, detaining gentlemen on their travels, carrying them blindfolded to their den, and only liberating them upon the receipt of a handsome ransom from their friends. the eagle of the mountain was at last caged in the humble prison of smyrna. while other miserable victims were peeping through their latticed and iron bound casements, whining out a feeble cry for alms, he, the proud chieftain, sat upon a sofa, dressed in the picturesque costume of the greek mountaineer, his eyes flashing defiance, and his lofty bearing all princely, as he puffed his narghillé, and chatted with those about him. but he must now feel somewhat crest-fallen, as day succeeds day, and he still dwells within the awful precincts of the bagnio, whence, like the rest of its miserable occupants, the once proud katurgy yanny, sometimes emerges, broom in hand, and chained to his fellow, to sweep the streets of the metropolis. the restless temperament and fanaticism of the greeks have ever made them the most turbulent of the ottoman subjects, and ready instruments in the hands of russian diplomatists for sowing the seeds of discord and confusion in the turkish empire. chapter xxxvii. the jews. the jews of turkey, of whom there are about 170,000, are by no means exempt from the sorrows and curses of their race. as if conscious that there is no escape from the contempt of the rest of the world, they are willing to undertake the meanest of earth's callings, literally to "eat the dirt" of their moslem masters. content to appear like the refuse of humanity, they strive to accumulate the miser's hoards, and receive the buffetings and cursings of their neighbors as if they were choice blessings--usury of all sorts, whether upon sequins or old clothes, peddling the meanest of wares in the streets, rag-picking, and filth-gathering in general, are their means of earning a livelihood. the venerated names of abraham, isaac and jacob, are almost needless, or seldom heard--for the one comprehensive word yahoudy (jew) is the nomenclature of the whole remnant of the chosen people. yahoudy come, and yahoudy go, are the summons and dismissal--while the rabble boys mockingly shout tchefut, and snatch some fragment of their tattered garments. public sentiment having stigmatized them as utterly depraved, they have no incentive to honesty, and not daring enough to commit any atrocious crime, they become more expert in petty larcenies and like misdemeanors. they are even accused of stealing a christian child once a year, in order to mingle its blood in their festivals, as a retaliation upon the christians in general. this, of course, refers to the mass, who, victims as they are to misery of all sorts, cannot be expected to practice the kindlier virtues which distinguish those among them to whom a better fate has been allotted. there was a celebrated armenian banker, tcharazly, who, having fallen under the displeasure of a certain turkish grandee, was suddenly one day seized and hung before the door of his own dwelling; his property confiscated, and his only son cast into prison. a certain jewish banker, shabgee by name, had long been the friend and neighbor of this family; and now, in the time of their trouble, he spared nothing for the liberation of the unfortunate young man, the son of his friend; which, he not only succeeded in obtaining, but reinstated him in all the honors of which he was the lawful heir. the jews are to be found in many villages on the bosphorus, though their principal quarter is at balat, on the golden horn. they live also in other parts of the city, but as may naturally be inferred, in such places as no one else would inhabit. their houses are like bee-hives, literally swarming with human life; even one single room serves for the only home of several families--and the streets of their quarters are almost impassable, from the collection of garbage and all sorts of refuse, which are indiscriminately thrown from the windows of their dwellings. their misery may partly be attributed to their practice of very early marriages, as before a man is twenty-one years of age he is burdened with the care and support of a numerous family, which reduces him to such poverty, that even the meanest economy can scarcely enable him to support his own existence and that of the helpless beings dependent on him. the exactions of the khakhams or priests, which are very great, help also to impoverish this pitiable people. it is no wonder, then, that they appear in rags and tatters--and herd together in styes--yet it is most amusing to see them on a jewish sabbath. the filthy gabardines which they wore in the week, as they exercised their various callings, being laid aside, and bright and gaudy finery substituted, in which they strut about the streets, seeming to be other beings, and to have no relation to the wretches of yesterday. but, of course, in such a population there will be various grades of misery, and a few families of wealth are to be found among them. they have some of the domestic institutions of the osmanlis, and the women wear thick white veils, but without concealing the features, as in the case of the turkish ladies. the young virgins are allowed to wear their hair long and flowing--but after marriage it is carefully concealed beneath a towering and cumbersome headgear, which is a wonderful illustration of the tenacity with which this singular race adheres to ancient usages. it recalls to mind the days of pharaoh and the people of israel, for the similarity is perfect between their present head-dress and that of the mummies who have reposed in their tombs ever since the family of joseph "took their cattle and their goods, which they had gotten in the land of canaan, and came into egypt, jacob and all his seed with him." as they were originally from spain, their language is still a mongrel dialect of that country. they are very strict in the observance of their religious rites and ceremonies--never transacting any business on the sabbath, nor performing any domestic duties. even their lamps on sabbath evenings must be lighted by some one of their christian neighbors--and should a conflagration occur on that day, their helplessness is truly pitiable, for they will see all their property consumed without making one effort to save it. chapter xxxviii. pera and the perotes, or franks. at the time that the turks took constantinople, there was a colony of genoese venetians established in a suburb of the city, called galata, who were allowed to retain this quarter, which occupies the declivity of the hill with the summit called pera, where the european emigrants, attracted by commerce and other motives, as well as the foreign dignitaries, have ever since continued to reside. the warehouses of the merchants are at galata, which is connected with the city by a floating bridge across the golden horn. a little above galata, on the bosphorus, is a turkish quarter called top-hané, or the department of ordnance, through which access is usually obtained to pera. the most busy and varied scene is constantly presented to the eye at this quay. the graceful cayiks with their delicately pointed prows lie on all sides, some waiting for the convenience of passengers, and others engaged in disembarking their living freight. it is wonderful to observe the dexterity of cayikgees. now, a single boatman pushes up his slender craft, and succeeds in gaining just space enough to slip in, so closely packed are the boats all around. it may be some lonely veiled woman who is safely landed. anon arrives the large omnibus cayik, as completely stored with live stock as the new york avenue cars on a sunday. the boatmen vociferate, and shove alongside in spite of all their competitors; the motley group of passengers, mussulmans, armenians, greeks, jews, franks, all huddled together, move not, speak not, but fasten their eyes upon the shore, with the firm conviction, that as they were safely landed the day before, they will be equally successful to-day. a prolonged, shrill musical cry, ya-lu-nuz! hushes every other sound; there is a simultaneous movement among the cayiks, a moment's pause in the hurrying crowd on shore, as way is made for the embassy boat with its gilded prow, flying colors, and five pair of oars. the eltchy-bey! is whispered from ear to ear. even the beautiful canopied boat of the sultan sometimes passes this way; propelled by twenty-eight men, it rapidly glides over the waters, with the regular music of the plashing oars. the cannon peals forth a royal salute from the shore, and the landing of top-hané resumes its bustling appearance. thousands of men, women, and children, are daily landed here, of every rank and clime, and doubtless, in each bosom one similar emotion, for a moment displaces all others: gratitude for the footing gained; then rushes in the vast tide of human hopes, cares and anxieties. the platform upon which they step, is wretchedly out of repair; the keahya, who gains a slender pittance by holding the boats from which so many are safely landed, is invariably a trembling old man; and as the crowd necessarily jostle each other, it is astonishing that there are so few accidents. but oriental self-possession has its careful measured gait, and it is rarely that any stumble, though turkish indifference leaves cracks, crevices, and chasms in yawning boldness. there is a large open area, just after you land; apparently nature's great warehouse, solid ground for a foundation and the vault of heaven for a roofing. along the shore lie numberless small coasters, whose crews and cargoes are alike begrimed with darkness, for they have come down from the black sea to supply the city with charcoal, the ordinary fuel; and immense piles of wood proclaim the demolition of forests of trees. there, too, is a great market place, or rather a centre of attraction to the venders of various merchandise, whom time and custom have established in their prerogatives, for there is no building whatever for the convenience or protection of this sort of commerce. here, then, in the open air, are butchers, green-grocers, fishmongers, bakers, fruiterers, and basket-makers, an epitome of practical life. but here too, is the mosque, the minaré, and the fountain, carrying away in its limped flowing, impurities both spiritual and physical. this fountain is a beautiful specimen of oriental architecture. it is an edifice about 30 feet square, built of pure white marble. beneath the cornice which surrounds the roof is a border of arabesque characters, richly gilt, and from each side the water flows into a marble basin. not far from this fountain is a cluster of small shops, for the sale of kebabs, tobacco, bonbons, and also many small kahvés. the kebabs are small pieces of mutton, passed on iron skewers, and roasted over fires of ignited charcoal, and, though the establishments are small, they are constantly filled with groups, who surrounding the copper dishes, seem to attest the excellence of the viands. after satisfying the more imperative calls of nature, a visit to the tetune-gee, or tobacco merchant, is inevitable; for not to mention the almost hourly use of the far-famed weed, this luxury must always succeed every other repast. then a moment of kief at the coffee shop, the fumes of the chibouque, a sip of mocha's berry, a little neighborly chit-chat, or it may be a business rendezvous, and you are ready to proceed up the steep hill to pera. some mount their own horses, which the grooms hold in attendance, others avail themselves of the more jaded looking animals who are waiting to be hired, and sometimes the turkish ladies,--rather antiquities of the species, deliberately mount the leather hunch on the hamal's back, and they too ride up, while others still are obliged, either from a lack of a like independence, or other stringent motives, to go on shank's mare. those who do not ascend the hill, disperse in various directions through the many narrow by-ways which diverge from the great area. pera is the elysium of shop-keepers, the very essence of à la franga, the bey-oghlu or dwelling-place of princes, the rendezvous of ministers plenipotentiary, ministers resident, consular dignitaries, secretaries of legations, dragomans, attachés, and all the élite of society--a swarming hive of diplomacy--only get inside of the hive, even as drone, and you are comme il faut. there is a certain imposing, mysterious, impenetrable air about every member of this haute noblesse--each one is full of importance, each one is condescending to the other; all are on the qui vive for a stray word, an echo of the all-important diplomatic measures of their rivals; all are cautious not to betray by look or action any embryo intrigues or manoeuvres. thus social intercourse consists of gracious words, unmeaning civilities, and mutual distrust and suspicion. those who have been born in pera, and others who have been bred there, have one and all become so very diplomatic that conversation ordinarily dwindles into monosyllables, general inquiries after health, and prognostics of the weather. the simplest question is regarded by them as an inquisitive intrusion upon their prerogatives and peculiar sphere, so that, not to exceed the bounds of decorum, absolute silence becomes the only alternative. but when any sudden change takes place in the turkish administration, or a new public measure is adopted, there is a jubilee in this social clique--for the discussion of the pros and cons, probabilities and possibilities, are talked over until the original theme is lost sight of, and all the excitement subsides--unless something else turns up at the porte. intermarriage has produced a race of perotes who never having had the benefit of finding their proper level by contact with a more elevated and extended sphere, consider themselves the very salt of civilization, and are even more afraid than the members of the legations themselves, of mingling in general society. the honorable distinction of being a perote, does not only depend upon birth, but a still more essential point is allegiance to the catholic religion. for the embassies under whose wings these colonies first sheltered themselves were the representatives of catholic nations. the oriental principle that religion and nationality are synonymous, had its effect even on this mongrel race; who, by degrees came to consider catholicity as also identical with europeanism. enjoying peculiar immunities as protégés of these embassies, in their imagined superiority, as catholics, to all around them, they regarded the rest of their fellow citizens with even greater contempt than the mohammedans felt towards the giavours. this soi-disant aristocracy is not confined to pera, but is to be found scattered throughout the levant, at smyrna and other commercial ports. ignorance of the language of the country where they are born is considered only a proof of their superiority to the other nations; but for their ignorance of all languages and miserable mongrel dialect called lingua franca, we can find no excuse either aristocratic or diplomatic. this lingua franca is a corrupted dialect of the greek language, interlarded with french and italian; and in writing the roman characters are substituted for the hellenic, as being more distingués. even family names have been modified so as to ignore any traces of parentage--such as sazan oghlou into salsani, and zipgy oghlou into zipcy, etc. when the foreign ambassadors first became residents of pera, as long ago as the days of suleyman, they found this mixed people apparently a connecting link between the east and the west; and being themselves then ignorant of oriental peculiarities, and the languages of stamboul, they were glad to receive these perotes as employés, dragomans, etc. thus, by degrees, they became a sort of necessary evil to the foreign diplomatists. greater familiarity with the country, and still more, a just appreciation of these aspirants to aristocratic honors and functions, has, however, of late years, opened the eyes of the foreign representatives; and each embassy is now furnished with employés from the home government--consequently, the perotes are now decidedly below par. adventurers, who, in their own lands, would never be heard of, in pera become the guests of ambassadors and statesmen, and aping the airs and manners of their distinguished patrons, manage to pass current. women at every other word murdering their mother tongues, are transformed into ladies of quality in the palaces of the representatives of their respective sovereigns. but these are trifling matters. the outcasts of european society here find a safe retreat, and are even protected in their outrages, while the various protégés of the different legations, natives and foreigners, constitute a privileged community. russia has endeavored to increase her own power by inducing the rayas to adopt her protection, in order to secure any claims whatever against either turks or christians. "the most desperate ruffians of southern europe are in turkey under british, austrian, french, or greek protection. the english give impunity to ionians and maltese; austria has her croats; french passports screen a crowd of levantines, whose professed attachment to catholicism is allowed to be the cloak to any knavery; while greece and naples send a contingent whose character may be easily imagined. while the worst of them have protection for delinquencies, the whole enjoy immunities of the most unjust kind. "they can only be sued in the consular courts of their own country. they pay less taxes than their neighbors, and in some places none at all. they are wholly beyond the jurisdiction of the porte, while for all claims on the government, or on turkish subjects they can bring into play the whole machinery of their embassy. each representative is almost bound to make every private complaint an affair of state, and, in fact the real or nominal austrian, briton, or frenchman, practically turns the diplomatists of his sovereign into his own special attorneys whenever he pleases." this picture is not too highly drawn, and shows that if the mussulmans need reforms, the nominal frank population are in a somewhat similar category. the effect which has been produced upon the minds of the osmanlis by such specimens of civilized europeans has certainly not been favorable; and it is to be hoped that more extended intercourse with europe will counteract these influences. the diplomatic corps and the perotes, though the upper tendom, and codfish aristocracy of pera, are by no means the greater part of the population. english, americans, french, germans, greeks, armenians, and even moslems, reside there, preferring the bustle and public amusements which are to be secured, to the quiet atmosphere of stamboul. the opera house and the fashionable emporiums of commerce have their attractions. on a friday, it is amusing to see the crowds of turkish women in the different shops, relentlessly handling the merchandize to the infinite annoyance of the proprietors themselves, who are not so patient as the merchants of the bazaars. often the most extravagant prices are paid for trifling articles of luxury, by the osmanlis of wealth, who, even in this sort of trade, seem to feel that everything à la franca must cost them dear. the modistes have grown rich by selling them feathers, flowers, and haberdashery, and the confiseurs have exchanged their honeyed stores for bags of turkish gold. there is a great fondness for dress in the population of pera, and the balls, soirees and reunions are so numerous that many shopkeepers, having reaped a rich harvest, have retired from business. feast days and holidays, which are so frequent, require their appropriate garb, and the carnival, its masquerades and costumes de bal. all the people, high and low, are determined to dress well, and display their toilets, so that the marts of fashion and luxury are never deserted. the great rendezvous for these happy souls, when their supremest efforts in outward adorning are accomplished, is the grand champ des morts. whither they resort in crowds, and sit among the verdure that springs from the dust of their ancestors, the white tombstones, the only records of those who once walked in their midst! occasional funeral trains, slowly moving towards the newly opened graves, and the mournful strains of the requiems of the dead, do not distract the thoughts of those who are bent in chasing the shadows of time, even while the realities of eternity are passing in review before them, and the very spectres of the tombs seem ready to burst their cerements, and start up in mocking derision. chapter xxxix. the aristocracy and the people. as in every country there ate two classes, viz., the aristocracy and the people, so in turkey, there are the kibars and the nass. aristocracy may everywhere be sub-divided into the aristocracies of birth, of letters, wealth and position. in turkey, all hereditary rank is vested solely in the person of the sultan; titles are conferred at his sovereign will and pleasure, and they do not descend from father to son. there is not, therefore, a regular or systematic aristocracy, and the spirit of democracy is there very evident. although the osmanlis hold all learning in great respect, yet turkish literature having hitherto been confined to the koran and its commentaries, the aristocracy of letters has consequently been constituted by the expounders of the faith, who arrogate to themselves the modest appellative of ulema, or savans. nevertheless, the people have the greatest reverence and consideration for zadés, or those who are the descendants of illustrious and enlightened parents. l'argent fait tout is known and acknowledged by all the world; and wealth is everywhere the great highway to power and distinction; elevating its possessor above the common herd. but the love of riches usually begets the love of power; for, n'est on que riche, on veut être grand, this is most evident in a country where the great tenure by which individual wealth is preserved and personal respect commanded, is official authority. hence no osmanli is contented, however great his wealth, without some civil function by which he can avert the overbearing disposition of his rivals. indeed, so great is their ambition for supremacy, that wealth and everything else is but secondary in their estimation. therefore the only aristocracy in turkey is that of wealth combined with position. it is not generally merit that raises a man to power in any part of the world, but still less in turkey. no matter what his previous avocations, or utter ignorance, it is supposed that when allah, or his proxy, the padishah, gives the office, that within the turban of distinction lie all the sense and wit needed for the post! hence, what if the cobbler become the pasha, or the shop-boy grand vezir, allah kerim! this a country where versatility of talent is very remarkable, if not great depth of genius; for one day a man may be head cook to his majesty, the next a captain pasha, or minister of finance! thus are often realized the tales of the arabian nights, and the humblest subject may dream of greatness, and wake to find himself a redjal, or grandee of the realm. indeed the only real statesmen and true patriots may be reduced to few individuals, all told, viz., reshid, aali, fuad, riza, rifaat, and omer pashas. besides, those who have been long employed as servants of the palace, or have proved themselves cunning buffoons, or able intriguers, are rewarded by some official post instead of a royal pension, provided they are of the faithful. for elevation to office is the privilege of the mussulmans only, who, considering themselves lords of the soil, as they are the proprietors, are unwilling to consign their rights to their rayas, on the principle that "to the victors belong the spoils." the very existence of the rayas has rendered the osmanlis proud and arrogant in their peculiar right as mussulmans; and, though holding all high places themselves, they have been willing to call in the assistance of their subjects in secondary employments. the rayas thus employed, are, of course, but a small proportion of the whole; to all the rest life dwindles into a tinkering, jobbing affair. this mushroom aristocracy, which was formerly ephemeral, like jonas' gourd, springing suddenly into existence, coming to maturity in an incredibly short space of time, then perishing ere the sun of its glory arrived at meridian height, has now, by virtue of the tanzimat, which secures the enjoyment of life and property, attained a sort of permanency. these officials being originally of the people, it may be supposed, would feel some sympathy for them; but the moment they come into power, they become an exclusive class. because in turkey the patriarchal idea that everything belongs to the sovereign, has led them to regard the government as not made for the people, but the people for the government; they think, therefore, that all advantages should accrue not to the governed but to the governing, thus reducing the mass into the state of individual nonentities, or mere conduits for the resources of the empire. the persons in authority seek, therefore, only the prosperity of the government, and constitute, as it were, a sort of fiscal administration, rather than one mindful of the good of the commonwealth. hence, whenever a project of public utility is proposed, the first idea that crosses the mind of a turkish functionary, is what direct advantage may accrue to the government? with such perverted ideas, the aristocracy, who are termed par excellence the kibars, though few in numbers, are like leaven to the whole mass; domineering, exciting, and often corrupting the best materials; and as men are creatures of circumstances, their moral and temporal conditions are but the results of the good or bad government under which they live. the evils, corruptions, and miseries existing in a community, are not therefore to be attributed to the mass indiscriminately, but rather to the influences that surround them. baluk bashdan kokar is a common proverb with the osmanlis, or as is the fountain so will be the streams which flow from it; therefore a government which exercises its prerogatives to revenge, not to punish; to remove the offender, not to benefit others by making an example of him; to deal death-blows to all who stand in the way; to encourage self-aggrandizement rather than study the wants of the community; to prefer the intriguant before the patriot; to patronize the buffoon rather than the statesman; such a government cannot fail to stamp its sanguinary and arbitrary character upon its subjects. a country where the insidious poison is ever at hand, and where the innocent and new-born infant who may endanger the heirs to the throne is forced to yield the life it has but just received; in such a land the same scenes will be enacted in its darkest corners, and the peasant will mimic the lord as far as he dares. the selfish and corrupt principles of the government have naturally had their pernicious effects upon all its agents, and through them, upon the people. the sultan is the great sun of the system--around whom the many lesser orbs revolve. while the pashas and dignitaries are themselves planets of no small lustre, attended by innumerable satellites of their own. the grandee holds the cable of power upon which tremblingly cling a numerous train, from its summit to its lowest extremity--all sustained, as long as the rope is firm; all crushed, when it slips from the hand of its supporter. indiscriminate patronage being a principle, favoritism and corruption become of necessity a natural consequence. indifferent men are therefore raised to places of trust, to perform duties which can never occupy their minds or engross their intellect, but the want of money is their first and their keenest necessity; for "n'est on que grand? on veut être riche. est on et grand et riche? on veut être plus grand et plus riche." thus all patriotism is subverted--and individual interest and position are made the sine quâ non of existence. before they were enervated by conquest and the possession of vast tributary states, which intoxicated them with sudden wealth, the turks were brave in battle, faithful to their friends, and generous to their enemies. but being inured to war and excitement, peace and tranquillity only reduced them to a state of sloth and idleness, and inspired them with conceit and arrogance to all around them. content with being the lords of the realm, ignorant and unfitted for the arts of peace, all their affairs were consigned to their rayas. the titles of vali, pasha, mussellim, etc., were enjoyed by them while their provinces and pashaliks were either farmed out to subordinates or managed by their armenian sarafs or bankers--who received and disbursed their incomes; so that the osmanli grandee had nothing to do but lounge listlessly in his keosk and puff his long chibouk--varying his life by occasional official visits to the porte, or in the softer seclusion of his harem. the enviable condition of indolence, and the desire to be surrounded with the trappings of wealth, created a rivalry among them, not to attain high and honorable posts as the champions of their country's welfare, but to ensure the means of luxury and display--and to excel each other in supremacy. hence they have arrived at the acme of perfection in the arts of adulation, servility, deceit, and intrigue. real virtue is of no avail, where successful vice only is admired, and the most insidious and faithless ever the favorites of fortune. indeed, ingratitude is stamped upon their character, for an osmanli raised to power, would turn the enemy even of his patron, should he dare to cross his schemes. this is so proverbial that they have a saying--bir osmanli bir piré itchin koss kodja yorgani yakar! an osmanli would burn up an entire coverlet to rid himself of a single flea! or in other words, no consideration would deter him from any sacrifice that would promote his own interests--examples of which are of daily occurrence in their political machinations. in such a malarious atmosphere, it would be supposed that every moral virtue would perish, and only noisome weeds choke the soil--but such is by no means the case. as the richest fruits and most fragrant flowers often grow from the very putrefactions that lie on the surface of the earth, so the people in turkey, surrounded by such a depraved and corrupted court, are themselves often specimens of nature's best handiwork. the native honesty of the turks is proverbial, and in illustration thereof the following story has been widely circulated. an englishman having landed a cargo of goods at one of the custom-houses in the east, was unwilling to leave them at the wharf unguarded; when he was told by the officer, that there was no need for apprehension, as there was not another englishman within fifty miles! whatever may be the truth of this statement, it may be observed, that some of the osmanlis of the present day have so far advanced in civilization as to even excel in this respect their present honorable allies! for, the idea that to rob the treasury of the sultan is not defrauding the people, has led the officials into all the wiles of corruption and systematic cheating--so that cheating and bribery may be considered as the corner stones of this vast edifice. in the purchase of government supplies there is a display of honesty on the part of the officials, and also of the european merchants, who endeavor to underbid each other in prices, which may be considered by an outsider as ruinous, but on the contrary, always proves profitable to the co-partners in the speculation. on a certain occasion 780 pieces of cotton cloth were palmed off upon the government by a european merchant for 78,000 pieces! for which amount the treasury gave a note. such instances are not of rare occurrence, nor confined only to officials--they pervade all classes. hence the scullion cheats the cook; the cook the steward; the steward the master; the master the efendy; the efendy the pasha; and the pasha the sultan; and why not? where the strife for aggrandizement and power is so great, and the battle not to the brave and good, but to the wealthy and intriguing, there is little or no inducement to honesty and good faith. russia seems to understand our people better than any other europeans, owing perhaps to her natural proximity; also since "a fellow feeling makes us wond'rous kind," she knew where to touch the sensitive osmanlis, when she provided prince menschikoff, on his late mission to constantinople, with a surplus fund of 300,000 paul imperials, or over a million of dollars! it is not, however, only in turkey that bribery and corruption prevail--even europe, france and england, the very centres of civilization, have furnished sad examples of personal aggrandizement, under the garb of patriotism. nevertheless, it is eminently true, that those of the people who have retained their primitive simplicity are truly honest and confiding; while others have become contaminated by the corruption of the court, and the grasping spirit of european adventurers. many of the peasants remove to the metropolis, with the hope of bettering their condition. some of them become hamals, or porters, tellaks, or attendants of the baths; cayikjys, or boatmen, common laborers, venders in general, and others, domestics in private houses. a certain armenian, native of van, immediately upon his arrival in constantinople, was engaged as a scullion. in course of time, he complained to his companions that he was not doing a good business on such a salary as he received, and he wondered at their apparent prosperity. his simplicity was, of course, ridiculed at first, and through compassion, he was initiated into the tricks of the trade. he was told that he must always add to his account the customary khamin of 20 or 30 per cent., a technical term, expressing overcharge, or cheating, not understood by novices. so the next day, when this simple son of armenia presented his account to his master, at the foot of the bill there was an item, which seemed not quite intelligible to him. he therefore called for an explanation; when the servant, in all his native simplicity, informed him that, that item was the khamin, or the sum total of his cheating, which his companions assured him was customary, and allowed to all servants in their daily purchases! how fortunate and consoling it would be, if, instead of being drugged in small doses, we could thus be informed of the sum total of all the cheatings to which we are subjected! the most unlimited confidence is stamped upon all their reciprocal transactions, and they intrust each other with any amount of goods, without demanding a receipt, check, or counter check. in the exercise of their avocation as hamals, they are often intrusted with bags of money untold; they are generally the watchmen or guardians to the stores and mercantile houses of the franks, and in any deficiency or robbery, their character and integrity are never questioned or suspected. the osmanlis possess the domestic virtues of kindness and affection in a remarkable degree; their love of offspring is very great, and their patient endurance of the whims and caprices of their women quite exemplary. merhamet, or compassion, is an essential component in their character, and induces them to extend a most unlimited patronage even to the lower orders of creation. hence the streets in turkey swarm with dogs, the roofs of the houses with cats, and the domes of the mosques with venerated pigeons, which, one and all, are objects of special charity. the thousands of cayiks that ply up and down the bosphorus, acting as aquatic omnibuses, besides their designated load of passengers, make a point to carry one or more boys gratuitously, as an act of charity; and how astonished would they be at the cry of "cut behind," which so often greets the ears of beggars in more eminent christian lands, who mistaking wishes for horses might otherwise chance to ride. yet a turk is a singular being, apparently composed of contrarieties, of savage traits, as well as domestic virtues, and this contrariety is to be attributed solely to his fanaticism. social and humane until you touch his religious prejudices, when he becomes implacable. it has been the interest of the clergy to nurture a fanatical conceit, by which the great principle of human nature, self-glorification, has well sustained, and the mussulmans been led to consider themselves the very salt of the earth, and the rest of the human family as contemptible giavours. hence they will not honor a christian with the mohammedan salutation, selamin aleküm, "pax vobiscum," nor will they observe any one in the company, until they have looked for a true believer, to whom, however humble he may be, is offered the arabic, or orthodox salutation; and on the christians present, however great in their own estimation, will afterwards be bestowed as their due, a simple sabahlar-hayr olsoon, or good morning, in plain turkish. though they have been subdued into a certain degree of external deference by the progress of civilization, yet in the exchange of social etiquettes, there is always a meaning slight cast upon their unbelieving friends, which is well understood and appreciated among themselves. even the humblest mohammedan will appropriate to himself the best position in a public conveyance, or in any promiscuous assembly, considering himself as fully entitled to such privileges, by the simple guarantee of his faith, which elevates him above all humanity. in the medical school, where some of the scholars belong to the families of the rayas, this mussulman conceit is most evident, and even tolerated and encouraged by the government at the present day; for regardless of actual merit, it has hitherto been a principle with the faculty always to place a mussulman boy at the head of the class! it may be a matter of wonder to see such bigoted characters adopting the very garb of the contemptible giavours. but the change of costume was effected by the invincible mahmoud, who, to liberate his people from the thraldom of the janissaries, and the superstitions of darker ages, feared neither priest or koran, and at all hazards resolved to make a daring stride towards civilization and reform. therefore this change of costume was not effected through any relaxation of religious bigotry, but by the force of the supreme power of the sultan; and the ulema themselves were obliged to compromise, by wearing a fez, with a simple turban around it, with some other slight modification of their flowing robes. reform in dress having become an essential principle of the government, those connected with the court and all public officers, were obliged to conform to the established style, and the young élégans of stamboul now vie with the parisian exquisites in their recherchées toilettes. but beyond the circle of court etiquette and fashion, the artisans and peasants still preserve all the varieties of costumes identified with orientalism. religious fanaticism in the east, is not confined to the mussulmans alone. it seems to have a universal sway in this climate, pervading every community. the mussulman would feel callous at the sight of the decapitation of a christian, and a christian would experience a secret exultation at the death of a mussulman. some years ago, i had the misfortune to meet with an accident; my carriage was lost in the bosphorus, and my horse and hostler were drowned. near the spot of this occurrence, there was a greek coaster lying at anchor, and the sailors soon came to my call for assistance; but perceiving that the drowning man was dressed in turkish costume, and taking him for a mussulman, they instinctively exclaimed, tourkos eine, tourkos eine, he is a turk, he is a turk, left him to his sad fate. it was in vain that i proclaimed that he was a greek and co-religionist of their own. the mussulman is fanatical, because he has thereby been goaded on to victory, and attributes all his successes to the banner of the prophet--and the christian is bigoted, because his religion is the only thing left him--his church is the cradle of his superstitions, and the badge of his nationality. even a turk designates his nationality by his religion; for if you ask him, of what nation are you? his answer will invariably be, el-hamd-ullah mussulmanem, or thank god i am a mussulman. indeed, religion in the east is so pre-eminent, that a declaration of faith is equal to an allegiance of fealty, and the mohammedan formula of la-illah-illallah, etc., is the only oath of naturalization, which, if once pronounced, fully entitles the individual to all the privileges and immunities of turkish citizenship. neither is there a community of sentiment among the christians themselves--who, all abhorring islamism, hate none the less each other through their religious differences. an armenian, native of angora--whose inhabitants are reputed for their religious bigotry--and a roman catholic by persuasion, had occasion to visit trieste on some commercial business. on his arrival there, he was asked by the officer of the quarantine what nation he belonged to! his unsophistical and prompt answer was "catholic." the officer, somewhat puzzled at this novel nationality, reminded him that they were also all catholics there, but called themselves austrians or italians--now, what is your nation? thereupon our worthy friend unflinchingly reiterated that he was a catholic; nothing else but a catholic; for they now had, through the interference of the french ambassador, a patriarch of their own, and were recognized as a nation! meaning a community. if a greek mendicant happen to call at your door, and you ask his co-religionist who it is, his answer will surely be christianos or a christian; but if the applicant for charity should chance to be of any other creed, his only title would be ztiyanos, or beggar. apart from the religious fanaticism, which is universal, the people, uncontaminated by a depraved and corrupted court--unlike the enervated and luxurious osmanlis of the metropolis, are simple-minded, brave, robust, temperate, intelligent, active and industrious. the mussulmans formerly taught that apostasy should be punished with death; but now a new system of instruction, on this and other points, proceeding from supreme authority, is as readily received by the credulous multitude. their bravery has been attested by the late massacre of sinope, when one and all preferred death to an ignominious surrender. the events of the recent war have established the fact, that there are no better soldiers than the turks. we have the testimony of a distinguished american who "stood among them, but not of them." he says that "we had an agreeable conversation with general omar pasha's staff surgeon.... among other things, he said the turks had long been extremely anxious to unite with their allies in a direct assault upon sebastopol. i was somewhat surprised at this intimation, knowing their considerate nature, and general inclination to conservative views." yet, notwithstanding, they have been accused of cowardice for the desertion of the batteries daring the battle of balaklava, which could not well have been avoided under the circumstances. the triumphs of silistria, tchetate and kars, afford ample refutation of such calumnies. the orientals are strong and athletic men, capable of enduring the greatest bodily fatigue. the hamals or porters, both mussulman and armenian, have been known to carry on their backs immense weights; and one of these oriental hercules has been seen carrying, on a wager, a load of no less than a thousand pounds to a distance of a quarter of a mile! the heavier hardens are suspended from long poles, the number of which increases in proportion to the weight. and when the contents are of glassware, instead of being marked fragile, a full size representation of a bottle is painted upon the package. the ends of these poles rest on the shoulders of the hamals, and they walk in a steady and measured soldier-like step. one of them once accidentally slipped and fell, and the end of the pole striking him on the chest, he became senseless. his companions raised him up, whilst one of their number stood back to back with the injured man, and locking his arms within those of his comrade, repeatedly raised him from the ground, thus expanding the chest, until he recovered his breath, when, to the astonishment of the bystanders, the man, after taking one or two long inspirations, smiling at the funny incident, shouldered his pole and marched on as if nothing had happened! these very men live habitually on the simplest diet, consisting of the coarsest brown bread, in the middle of which they make a cavity, and fill it with equal proportions of olive oil and molasses, and it is really a pleasure to see them enjoy their simple meals with a relish that would kill all dyspepsia doctors from sheer envy. the native intelligence of the people is evinced by their aptitude in acquiring the arts of civilized life; for after a residence of a couple of years in the metropolis, the rudest peasants become accomplished soldiers and skillful artisans. the facility with which they have adapted themselves to the european style of music is very remarkable, and certainly implies much talent or cleverness. indeed, many of those who have risen to the higher ranks of society, evince no signs, in their general deportment, of plebeian origin, save the peculiar brogue of local rusticity. nothing is more erroneous and unjust than the idea that the orientals are indolent or inactive. the tabys or garçons of the kahvés even excel their parisian competitors in alertness and general ubiquity--serving scores of customers at once with coffee, chibouk, and narghillés. the boatmen, who transport the pashas and others to their homes, after the adjourning of the porte, and closing of the bazaars, delight to compete with each other in speed, and linger on their course until they meet with an antagonist, when the race sometimes extends the whole length of the bosphorus. their sports and national games, consisting of horsemanship, wrestling, chasing, cricket, etc, all tend to show their love of activity. there is none of the bustle, or american go-a-headism, in the oriental character and habits; none of that nervous excitement which has so much the air of great progress, too often, like the whirlwind among the natural elements, creating prodigies of human noise and commotion, which subside and leave no sign; or it may be, only havoc and destruction. in all the machineries of eastern life, public or domestic, steady and quiet perseverance rules the motion, the oil of gentleness falling drop by drop upon the rolling wheels, suffices for the friction; while in the land of modern adventure, by increasing the pressure to a tremendous degree, the whole structure is often crushed to atoms. this giddy rushing to a certain point is too apt to wear out human energy, and most surely annihilates self-possession, which is the keystone to success. leave then, we say, the oriental sometimes to sit amid the fumes of his favorite chibouk; for while external things are beclouded, often a mighty scheme is in conception, and the sunshine of matured judgment suddenly bursts upon the dim atmosphere, in full power and glory, ready to fructify and yield all manner of increase. the apparent idleness which some persons have attributed to the natives of this country, is more the effect of a spirit of resignation to external circumstances, than of a desire to be unemployed. taking for a basis the idea that the interest of the people is but secondary, and under the pretence of increasing the revenue of the country, and thus benefiting the state as it were, but with the secret hope of self-aggrandizement, all advantageous projects are seized upon by the officials; thus an effectual check is thrown upon all private and public enterprise. the writer was the first to propose to the turkish government the establishment of a railroad from the capital to adrianople. not succeeding in this, a line of post coaches was suggested, for which, after great exertion, a firman was granted. but no sooner were the advantages of the project understood, than several persons in authority began to intrigue, until they succeeded in appropriating the firman to themselves, which had been obtained at so much expense and toil by another. but as usual, it proved to them more ruinous than profitable, because of the numerous contenders for the spoils. no internal improvements are dreamt of, and no motive left for speculation, and as there is no mutual confidence between the government and the people, the formation of corporate companies, which require united action, is out of the question, or, if attempted, they are sure to fall through by official exactions. thus, a country teeming with mines and minerals, is left unexplored, and all other internal resources lie dormant. some attempts have of late been made by the government at internal improvements, such as the post-road from trebizond to erzuroum; but the over-exertions of those intrusted with the work soon exhausted the appropriations, and the road was but half completed. the coal mines at heraclea have shared a similar fate. indeed, no undertaking can be prosperous in the lands of the officials--and if any such privilege be granted to private individuals, it is invariably under the patronage of some grandee. a permission was obtained from government by an individual to light the streets of pera. in the course of six months the lamps were demolished by the citizens, because they were heavily taxed to fill the pockets of the speculator, without any advantage to themselves--the streets for the most part, being as dark as before. all innovations are, therefore, in disrepute, not that they are not appreciated, but because they invariably prove to be mere schemes for individual advantage, and never pro bono publico. hence it is also that the streets, even in the metropolis, are ill paved, filthy, and not lighted--each person carrying his own lantern, and getting along as best he can. public enterprise being at so low an ebb, a spirit of indifference pervades the country and if you once pass the aristocracy, the actual necessities of the community are but few. they have no idea therefore of bettering their condition. if you offer them any new invention, they admire its ingenuity, and dryly tell you they have no need of it--consequently there is no need of patent rights for new inventions. this indifference is not to be construed into a love of inactivity--but is rather the result of selfishness--each man's interests being circumscribed by the sphere in which he moves. in case of any emergency they are most indefatigable and persevering. it needs only to cite the fact that pera, one of the suburbs of the city, has, in the course of twenty years, been destroyed by fire four times, and entirely rebuilt by native industry. indeed, inactivity is against the spirit of the country, for there, there are no rentiers--but every one must have a calling--even the sultan is traditionally supposed to belong to the tooth-pick trade! since the abolition of capital and summary punishments and the monopolies, by the promulgation of of the tanzimat, which was an attempt at reformation, not without some beneficial results, a new impulse has been given to the activity of the population. in a word, give but the necessary impetus, and as much genuine go-a-headism may be found in turkey, as in yankee-land itself. with such a population, and so many internal resources, it may be deemed a matter of wonder that this empire should be in so ruinous a condition. chapter xl. the future of turkey. the survey that has been taken of the turkish empire, political and social, will furnish the component parts of this wonderful structure of human power and religious fanaticism. owing to the remarkable sway attained by the sword of the prophet, the various ingredients mingled by the power of conquest, have all been brought together, like so many antagonistic elements, to be wrought into some degree of unity of spirit and purpose, and to be rendered subservient to one great potentate, absolute and despotic. the dread power of the turk, ravaging and blood-thirsty, has only of late years ceased to inspire terror to the world in general, and to hold in trembling awe the subjects over which it domineered. suddenly the dark cloud of barbarism began to disperse from this vast clime of the orient, as mahmoud, seizing the torch of civilization, scattered the light of science and reform over the land. ever since his day, the struggling beams of knowledge and truth have been casting a mistlike glow over these dominions, sometimes almost bursting into a blaze of brightness, and again subsiding into the obscurity of olden times and religions bigotry. the principles of progress, and the maintenance of ancient and long established usages were now at war; the former supported by the semi-enlighted portion of the people, and the latter by the formidable body of the ulema or the mohammedan clergy. the rayas, or christian subjects, hitherto quiescent and despairing, now saw the star of hope and comparative liberty in their horizon, and were ready to grasp at any straw of deliverance from the storms of oppression and tyranny. the mass is in commotion--mussulman power trembles at the vision of the emancipation of its victims. oppressed and suffering humanity even dares to utter one vast groan, and to raise a furtive glance towards the glorious temple of liberty, and the equality of man with man. mahmoud, the bold champion of his country, is surrounded by intrigues, both foreign and domestic, and becomes entangled in the web of turbulence and opposition, until his soul can endure no longer, and wings its flight from the terrible field of battle. but the iron gates of barbarism had been unlocked; and even the extreme youth of the succeeding sultan, abd-ul-medjid, bringing with him a sort of regency, could not refasten the heavy bolts. thus we find this empire only advancing in progress, the more wonderful since there has been comparatively so little reform in the actual government. even the sultan has abrogated his absolute and despotic sway; the once powerful viceroy still sits at his right hand, but no longer unfettered; and the various religious and civil functionaries, although the same as the creatures of yesterday, are themselves amenable to the tribunal of justice and reform, where the spirit of mahmoud seems to linger as a reproving and condemning monitor. the opposing influences to all innovations were strong; the very soil rank with bigotry, conceit, and prejudice, and the powers in actual possession of the commonwealth self-willed and cunning. hitherto a comparative isolation had created natural walls, within which despotism had its unmitigated sway. but as distance became annihilated throughout the world's dominions, as oceans dwindled into lakes, rivers into little rills, and broad acres into mere pleasure gardens, before the mighty achievements of modern invention, all natural barriers disappeared. as in ancient times the walls of the great city of jericho fell at the blast of the trumpets of joshua, no sooner did the echoes of the shrill whistle of the mighty steamship reverberate along the shores and among the seven hills of stamboul, than were annihilated the frontiers of a barbarous and spiritual despotism, in the stronghold of the mussulmans. civilization from europe was no longer stayed, but boldly stepped into this natural garden of the world. to stem the current would be to perish in an overwhelming vortex; and the very government was obliged to conform, to compromise, and to make treaties of peace with this new element, social and political progress. not only in turkey, but universally, the spirit of domination has been pre-eminent, until the march of human improvement awakened the community to a sense of their own power and individual rights. thus the elements of democracy have been arrayed in opposition to the oppressions of despotism, threatening its utter annihilation, and forcing the ruling powers to terms of capitulation. the reformation checked the authority of the pope, a charter was granted to the english, and their colonies in america soon grew to a great and independent state. though the european states cannot boast of that degree of independence they have ofttimes struggled for, yet their rulers and potentates have ever been, and are still, forced to don the mantle of liberty, and maintain the guise of justice in their various administrations; thus proving the supremacy of the spirit of democracy. but despotism, fostered in the bosom of the little dukedom of moscow, has maintained its unbroken sway, and spread over the vast territories now known as the russian dominions. it has engulphed finland, crimea, poland, bessarabia, circassia, georgia and many other provinces, and by its continued and systematic encroachments upon turkey, even threatened to overwhelm europe itself. local circumstances have combined to favor her designs, and render her aggressions successful. the remarkable spirit of mohammedan fanaticism led the turks on to conquest. the neighboring countries were all subjugated, until the thirst for war enticed them into europe, where victory still followed their banner. but the very nations that they conquered, many of whom were induced, by force or otherwise, to make their abode in the turkish dominions, tended by degrees to undermine their power. with them came various religions and creeds, conflicting with each other, and creating the bitterest animosities. apart from this, the vast extent of their territories, without any of the modern facilities of intercourse, rendered the empire unmanageable by an unenlightened and barbarous government. the army was numerous and powerful, but turbulent and refractory, usurping the power of governing to themselves, as attests the well known history of the janissaries, who could only be subdued by the bold daring of the illustrious mahmoud. a new army was organized, on european principles, and various civil reforms attempted, but without any beneficial result; for the neighboring nations, especially the formidable power of russia, the inveterate enemy of turkey, were anxiously regarding the waning decline of ottoman supremacy. russia, who never missed an opportunity to expedite the rain of this rival empire, has at various times waged war upon the most trifling pretexts. upon the termination of the greek insurrection, and immediately after the destruction of the janissaries, a most aggressive and iniquitous war was commenced, in which the european powers acted as sleeping partners. the albanian, servian, egyptian and kürdish rebellions were each successively instigated by russian and austrian emissaries, or secret agents, until the whole country became the arena of party intrigue, and the direst confusion, thus realizing the plans of its enemy, and rendering it an easy prey to moscovite cunning. to europe, now awakened to a sense of her own impending danger, the division of turkey seemed the only alternative, since that empire showed evident symptoms of decay and inability to resist so powerful an enemy as russia. reshid pasha, one of the ablest and oldest statesmen and a true patriot, was at this time in europe as representative of the porte. on hearing of this proposed division of his country, he hastened home to offer his counsels to the young sultan who had just ascended the throne. by his representations and suggestions, his majesty was induced to issue a proclamation called the tanzimat, or reformation, by which it was hoped that the country would be regenerated, and the world convinced that turkey could maintain itself. the tanzimat. translated from the turkish. in the former days of the ottoman empire, as every one knows, the glorious precepts of the koran and the laws of the monarchy were universally observed; and consequently the empire increased both in power and size, and all subjects, without exception, attained the highest degree of ease and prosperity. for one hundred and fifty years a succession of accidents and of divers causes have put an end to this obedience to the sacred code of the laws, and to the rules which spring from it, and our former power and prosperity have been changed into weakness and poverty; for an empire loses all stability when the laws cease to be observed. these considerations are constantly present to our mind, and from the day of our accession to the throne, the idea of the public welfare, the amelioration of the state of the provinces, and condolence with the people, have been its sole occupations. now, when we consider the geographical position of the ottoman empire, the fertility of the soil, the aptitude and intelligence of the inhabitants, we are convinced that by applying ourselves to discover suitable means, the result, which by the aid of god we hope to attain, may be obtained in the space of a few years. thus, then, full of confidence in the most high, and relying upon the intercession of our prophet, we have judged proper to seek by new institutions to procure for the provinces composing the ottoman empire the benefit of a good administration. these institutions must bear principally upon three points, to wit; 1st. the pledges which insure to our subjects a perfect security of life, honor and fortune. 2d. a regular mode of assessing and levying the taxes. 3d. a mode equally regular, for the levy of soldiers, and the duration of the service. and are not life and honor truly the most precious goods which exist? what man, however base his situation, if his character adapt him for violence, could be prevented from having recourse to it, and thus doing injury to his government and the country, if his life and honor are endangered? if, on the contrary, he enjoys, in this respect, a perfect security, he will not wander from the paths of loyalty, and all his acts will concur to the prosperity of the government, and of his brethren. if his fortune be not secured to him, each remains cold to the voice of the prince and the country; no one is occupied with the progress of public fortune, absorbed as every one must be in his own inquietudes. but if, on the other hand, the citizen possess in confidence his property of every kind, then full of ardor in his business, the circle of which he seeks to enlarge in order to extend that of his pleasure, he finds each day redoubled in his heart the love of his prince and country, and devotion to her cause; these sentiments become in him the source of the most praiseworthy actions. as to the regular assessment and establishment of the taxes, it is very important that this matter should be regulated, for the state that is driven to various expenses for the defense of its territory, can procure the money necessary for its armies and other services only by the contributions levied upon the subjects. although, thanks be to god, those of our empire have for some time been delivered from the scourge of monopolies, improperly regarded in former times as a source of revenue, an injurious custom still exists, and which cannot but have disastrous consequences, i mean that practice of venal concession known as the iltizam. by this system the civil and financial administration of a locality is delivered to the arbitration of a single man, and sometimes to the iron hand of the most violent and base passions, for if this farmer of the revenue be not good, he will only have regard to his own advantage. it is requisite, then, that this time forward each individual of the ottoman society be taxed his quota of his established impost, in the ratio of his fortune and possessions, and nothing farther can be required of him. special laws too must fix and limit the expenses of our armies by sea and land. although, as we have said, the defense of our common country is an important matter, and although it is the duty of all the inhabitants to furnish soldiers to that effect; laws must now be established to regulate the proportion that each locality shall furnish upon the necessity of the moment, and to reduce to four or five years the term of military service. for it is both acting unjustly, and giving a death blow to agriculture and industry, to take, without regard to the respective population of the districts, from one more, and from another fewer, than they can supply; while it reduces the soldiers to despair, and contributes to the depopulation of the country to retain them all their life-time in the service. to resume, without these different laws, the necessity for which we have just seen, the empire can possess neither power, riches, happiness nor tranquillity; while all these blessings may be obtained from the existence of the new laws. therefore, from this time forward the cause of every accused will be publicly judged conformably to our own divine law, after thorough inquest and examination, and so long as the regular judgment is not interrupted, no one will be able in secret, or in public, to put another to death by poison, or any other punishment. no one will be permitted to attaint the honor of another. each individual will possess his property, of every kind, and will dispose of it with the most entire liberty, without the opposition of any one; thus, for example, the property of a criminal shall not be confiscated to his innocent heirs. these imperial concessions, extending to all our subjects, of whatever religion or sect they may be, shall by them be enjoyed without exception. a perfect security is thus granted by us to the inhabitants of the empire in their lives, honor, and fortunes, as the sacred text of our law demands. upon all other points, as they must be regulated by the agreement of enlightened opinion, our council of justice (augmented by new members when it shall be necessary), to which will be joined, on certain days by us appointed, our ministers and the notables of the empire, will assemble for the purpose of establishing regular laws, for the security of life and fortune, and the imposition of taxes. in these assemblies each man will freely express his ideas and give his opinion. the laws for the regulation of the military service will be fixed by the military council, to hold its sessions at the palace of the seraskier. as soon as a law is fixed to be forever available and executory, it shall be presented to us, and we will give it our sanction, which we shall write at the head with our own imperial hand. as the present institutions have for their aim but the establishment of religion, government, the nation and the empire, we pledge ourselves to do nothing contrary to them. in pledge of our promise we will, after having placed them in the hall in which is kept the glorious mantle of our prophet, in presence of all the ulema and grandees of the empire, make oath by the name of god, and afterwards the ulema and grandees shall also swear. and if, after this, any one among the ulema, or grandees of the empire, or any other person whatsoever, shall violate these institutions, he shall undergo, without regard to rank, consideration, or credit, the penalty annexed to his well-proved crime. to this effect a penal code will be re-enacted. as all the functionaries of the empire at the present day receive suitable salaries, and as the appointments of those, whose duties are not sufficiently well remunerated as yet, will be regulated, a vigorous law will be enacted against the traffic of favor and of charges (richvet), which is reproved by the divine law, and which is one of the principal causes of the decadence of the empire. these dispositions, above stated, being an alteration, and a complete renovation from the ancient usages, this imperial edict will be published at constantinople, and in all the other cities of our empire, and will be communicated officially to all the ambassadors of friendly powers residing at constantinople, that they may be witnesses of the alteration in our institutions, which, if it please god, shall ever endure. to this may god have us all in his holy and worthy keeping. may those who are guilty of an act contrary to the present institutions, be the object of divine malediction, and be forever deprived of every kind of happiness. this document, which is an official acknowledgment of the existing evils and corruptions, was read at gül-hané, on the 3d of november, 1839, with the greatest solemnity, before a vast concourse of people, and in the presence of the foreign representatives. in order to commemorate the occasion, and enforce these new principles, it was proposed to erect a magnificent public monument, the plans and designs of which were confided to the writer; but before the foundations could be laid, a complete "change came o'er the spirit of their dreams." the great napoleon has wisely pronounced that "constantinople is the key to all europe, and designed to be the capital of the world." turkey may, therefore, be divided and subdivided, but constantinople, the great bone of contention, being indivisible, the partition of turkey becomes an impossibility, and political equilibrium will not permit any one power to usurp its possession. it was fortunate that it fell accidentally into the hands of the turks, who were incapable of availing themselves of its advantages; and for the same reason it is desirable they should retain it. hence the maintenance, or diplomatically speaking, the integrity of turkey became an essential element in the polity of europe. the proclamation of the above hatti sherif, or royal edict, was therefore hailed with general satisfaction by the european states, and hopes were awakened that the impending danger would be averted by such an entire change in the administrative government. but the turks of the ancien régime, perceiving no threatening attitude in their european neighbors, and highly offended at the ultra-liberal measures of the reform party, who even dared to insult their mussulman prejudices, and coolly inform them that "the council chamber was not a theological school for the discussion of religious polemics, nor convertible into a mosque," resolved to resist to the utmost, and re-establish their own party. they, therefore, in a body, protested to the sultan, who, in such a dilemma, could do nothing but dismiss the actual ministry, and organize a new one. rendered bold by success, the new ministry, at whose head was placed riza pasha, soon began to adopt fanatical measures, whereby to modify the tanzimat, which it did not suit their policy to nullify altogether; for, by it additional security of life and property was granted even to themselves. besides, the lords of the realm, who only existed by the "cohesive power of public plunder," foresaw that the tanzimat secured equality of civil and political rights to the christians, especially to the armenians, who, being better educated and more enlightened than they themselves were, and in fact the ruling spirits, would soon have preceded them in all the departments, and taken the lead in the control of the country. schemes of oppression were formed to deprive the rayas of their newly acquired privileges. even the external semblance of equality was no longer tolerated. to distinguish them from the true followers of the prophet, their dress being the same, an order was issued, that the giavours should wear a certain mark on their fesses, a piece of black tape. even the grandees of the christian community were stigmatized by a mock badge of honor, made of gold, to be also worn on the side of the fess. they carried their fanaticism so far as even to defy europe in the decapitation of ovagim, an armenian apostate, who had abjured mohammedanism. though his life was promised to lord stratford, no sooner had the secretary of legation, mr. alison, left the porte, than the unfortunate victim was led forth and beheaded. whatever may have been the cause of the sudden reversal of their merciful intentions, it is well known that prince handgery, the russian dragoman, was also at the porte, and did not leave until the consummation of the sentence. his body was exposed in the streets of constantinople at baluk-bazaar, the head placed between his legs, as was customary, with the european cap which he wore, upon it, as an extra insult to all europe. the bodies of state criminals were formerly exposed in public for three days, but the weather being at this time excessively warm, the late sheikh-ul-islam was advised that injurious effects might result from such a long exposure; who sagely remarked, that "the fact was indeed so, but the sad results would be still more palpably felt three years hence." strange to say the prediction has been fully verified by recent events. thus mussulman fanaticism brought on a retrograde movement, and threatened the entire ruin of the country; and the rapacious and ambitious dispositions of those who lived on the fat of the land, by degrees so consumed its vitality that it justly merited the cognomen of the sick-man. the eagle and the vulture were hovering over the expiring empire, and humanity and civilization demanded that it should be watched over, with the hope either of prolonging its existence, or at least of giving it a decent burial. russia and austria, who thought that the propitious moment had arrived to pounce upon their victim, resolved to accomplish their own plans by one sudden and effective coup-de-main, as the insulting conduct and threatening attitude of their respective emissaries fully demonstrated. but their expectations were not to be realized; for, notwithstanding the corrupt character of those in power, the spirit of regeneration was not wholly extinct in the country. the liberal party, some of whom had retired from public life in disgust, and others, who, giving up all hope of reform, had abandoned their favorite project, and joined the powers that be, in such an emergency, like true patriots, whose moral influence had been silently exerted over the people, came to the rescue; resisting every form of bribery and fearless of menaces, they boldly took up the gauntlet, and war was declared. the interests of europe being involved in the fate of turkey, "foreign interference" became inevitable. fortunate it is not only for turkey, but for europe in general, that this event happened at a time when such interference was available, otherwise turkey, like poland, would have been ingulphed by russia and austria. the result is known to the world. although the battle has been fought, the russian bear been driven to his den, and the congress of nations at paris has adopted the osmanlis into their fraternity, still the "eastern question," or the maintenance of turkey, as a barrier between russian despotism and european liberty, is far from being settled. for the problem is not solved, in as much as the ways and means for the future permanence of this empire are not proclaimed to the world. turkey is apparently secured from russian animosities, but unless the country be set on a new basis, and rendered capable of maintaining itself, the future of turkey will inevitably be only a repetition of the past, if not indeed far worse. this difficult subject will, no doubt, engross the wisdom of europe, but the present is the moment to be seized, while the indebtedness of the osmanlis to their allies is fresh in their memories, and the gates of their vast empire stand open to civilization and reform. will the allies again content themselves with mere scrolls, parchments, and state papers like the tanzimat of 1839? shall the patriots of the state again be left subject to the sway of a conceited bigotry and blind fanaticism? in a word, shall the country be permitted to feed upon its own vitals until it consumes itself? the time has arrived when fictitious progress can no longer be tolerated, and a wholesome reaction most take place. turkey and its inhabitants have suffered not only from external aggressions, but internal discord has maintained an empire of misrule. religious animosity and party spirit have reigned supreme. greeks and christians hating each other, christians denouncing christians, and the grand mufti pouring out the anathemas of the prophet upon the whole host of giavours. whence then, in such a population, can any unity of feeling or of action spring? amor patriæ, philanthropy, progress are all merged in sectarianism and the rage for religious supremacy. hitherto, mohammedanism filling the places of authority, and possessing the only permanent foothold upon the territory itself, has left the christian population without incentive to competition of any sort. even in the earliest conflicts of mohammedanism, three proposals were always made to those whose territories were invaded--to join the standard of the prophet; to adhere to their own religious tenets as tributaries; or the trial by combat; thus evincing a wonderful spirit of liberality in a conquering power, whether the antagonism was that of conquest or propagandism. religious toleration was only a wise policy of the ottoman government, for as long as the rayas were of various creeds and conflicting with each other, the mussulmans were in no danger. as in union is strength, so in the disunion of the subjects was the safety of the rulers. the rayas, as has been said, losing their own nationality in their condition of servitude, clung to the tenets of their respective creeds, and knew no country, no nationality but that of religion. in turkey all classes of christians and jews have always had freedom of religions worship with the free exercise of their peculiar rites and observances, public and private. the proof may daily be witnessed in their funeral processions with torches, crosses, and chanting priests, preceded by kavasses or police officers, as the pages of the "missionary herald of the american board for foreign missions" amply testify. besides it is a well known fact that all the christian churches are privileged to hold vakufs of their own, on the same footing as those of the mosques; the very existence of so many differing creeds, and their constant free discussions, is proof of a great degree of religious toleration. even the recent war was the result of this tolerance; for it is well known that the original matter of debate was whether russia or france, or, in other words, whether the greek church or the catholic should control the holy places of jerusalem! these holy places not only are in the dominions of the sultan, but are the objects of religious veneration to the mussulmans themselves, who reverently style them coods-u-sherif, or holy jerusalem; yet with a remarkable spirit of conciliation, their jurisdiction was conceded to the christians. travellers who have chanced to be in jerusalem during the festivities of easter, may remember, that when the christians are quarrelling and contending with each other, the mussulmans are forced to interfere to keep peace and tranquillity! it is true that the ottoman government has frequently refused permission to the christians to erect or repair churches, etc. this, however, is not from a spirit of intolerance, for it soon was understood that a liberal sum might be obtained for these privileges, and the officials could not resist such occasions for increasing their revenues. the same advantage is taken of the party intrigues, at the time of the election of the new patriarchs of the armenians and greeks. in the days of ignorance, this election cost the armenians 40,000 piasters, but years of experience have raised the value of the sultan's sanction to 200,000 piasters, and the greeks, amongst whom party strife is far greater, pay between two and three millions for the installation of their spiritual head. hence it is evident that religious toleration is a principle of the government, and the contrary an incidental abuse for the advantage of those in power. this very abuse has had its origin among the christians themselves, who were ready to bribe the ruling power to any amount, in order to gain their own ends. nevertheless, russia has endeavored to mislead the whole world, and especially the christian population of turkey, with the plausible pretence of a "guarantee of liberty of worship to all classes of christians in turkey;" while her conduct at home belies her sincerity. the cross upon the armenian church at odessa was, not long ago, removed by order of the government, lest the population should be misled by the impression that the edifice belonged to the established church. and in the case of intermarriage, the law orders that the children should invariably be educated in the russian faith. the adage "nearer the church, farther from god," is peculiarly applicable to russia; for we are told by gibbon, that long before the turks were in constantinople, the russians made several attempts to capture this fated city, and were only driven away by the flood discharged from the batteries. were the greeks of that time mohammedans, or was there any suffering christianity, that these philanthropic muscovites were impelled to come to the rescue of the christian faith? there are some strange records in history which conflict materially with political hypocrisy! the fact is, under the pretence of being the champion of the cross, the real object of russia has ever been to avail herself of the existing religious fanaticism of the east, and by fanning the flames of christian ardor, to institute a crusade of the nineteenth century! nations are not, however, governed by sympathy, but by interest, and the christians have had too bitter experience of russian protection to be again caught in the same net. the armenians of erzuroum were induced to emigrate into the russian land of canaan, which, they were assured, flowed with milk and honey; but when they drank these honeyed waters, they found them only wormwood and gall, and all who could, eagerly burst their fetters, and returned to turkey, preferring moslem oppression to moscovite despotism and systematic serfdom. the greeks, who were so clamorous against the turks, when they succeeded in obtaining their independence, by raising the standard of the cross against the crescent of the prophet, showed very little preference for the hellenic government, since after a while they returned by thousands into turkey! the effect of turkish policy has been such, that there is a prevalent desire among the rayas to escape from their allegiance to such a government, and place themselves under foreign protection, not from any fear of religious intolerance whatever, but merely to obtain comparative liberty and justice. indeed, what incentive have the people in general, either turks or rayas, to patriotism, or what care they for national prosperity, when they are forced to regard themselves as mere tenants of their own houses and lands? missak, the late armenian banker, did not escape into russia from any fear of religious oppression, but to avoid the vindictive persecutions of the minister of finance. it is not, then, religious freedom that the christians of turkey require, but political franchise and unbiased justice. the past has sadly proved that the mohammedans are incapable even of self government, or at best, mohammedan domination has had a demoralizing tendency over half, if not the entire population. is the country, then to be ruled by the other half of the inhabitants viz., the christian population? this is another impossibility; for this population is like a house divided against itself, and besides their incapacity in other respects, they, having so long felt the bitterest animosity towards their mussulman masters, would in their turn become even greater oppressors than the mohammedans themselves, as was evinced by the conduct of the armenians of erzuroum during the last war with russia. the "eastern question" is not, however, one of propagandism, either of christianity or of mohammedanism, but demands, while granting perfect liberty of conscience to all classes, how political and civil equality may be maintained throughout the ottoman dominions. fusion, then, is the only policy that can resuscitate the turkish empire. the tanzimat was the beginning of a reform, but there were no coercive measures put into play, to overthrow the power of ancient usages, so that the proclamation soon became almost a dead letter. the blind bigotry of the people and the absolute power of the heads of government, imbued as they are with a spirit of favoritism and corruption, have hitherto excluded the unfortunate subjects of the sultan from the justice and protection which are the sacred rights of every son of adam. there has been no security for property nor any inducement to honesty in turkey. a man has, under the existing laws, every temptation to injure his neighbor to any extent, and the innocent have no other means of protecting themselves and their interests, than by resorting to counter dishonesty. for instance, if a man is unjustly accused of a debt of one hundred dollars, it would naturally be inferred that he would at once deny the accusation, and call for proof. but such an honest procedure would not answer in the turkish courts of justice, for it would immediately give the plaintiff the desired privilege of producing two hired witnesses, by whose testimony the defendant would, beyond a doubt, be condemned to pay the pretended debt. the only alternative, in such instances, is to verify the principle "set a rogue to catch a rogue" by acknowledging the debt, at the same time declaring that it has already been paid; thus the accuser is deprived of the privilege of suborning witnesses, and the defendant avails himself of that prerogative. therefore the moral sense of the community is corrupted, and self-preservation impels the people only to strive to excel each other in roguery. in such a poisoned atmosphere, no salutary influence can be exercised until the axe is laid at the root of the evil. in order, then, to give a fresh stamina to this fading empire-1. a new and complete code of justice is needed, consistent with progressive civilization, and suited to the necessities of these heterogeneous peoples. 2. to overthrow the sceptre of oppressive bigotry, the next thing to be effected is an entire separation of church and state, so as to prevent the interference of the ulema in the administration of justice. thus also the aristocracy of religion being abolished, the animosity existing between the moslems and christians will be annihilated, and the hitherto excluded portion of the subjects of the sultan acknowledged as members of the great ottoman family. the identity of religious faith and nationality long swayed even the european states, but in those countries, this idea is now obsolete, and must of necessity become so in turkey, since she has entered their confederacy. 3. a mixed administration must be formed, composed of representatives of the different communities, and mussulman supremacy no longer tolerated. the mutual benefit of this combination is evident; for while the christians, in sharing the supreme power, would lose their former incentives to cunning and self-interest, the mussulmans, on their part, would make rapid strides in the true science of government. the tenure by which this mutual authority is to be held, must be supported and confirmed by a superior tribunal, as it were, consisting of the powers of europe, who, having constituted themselves the champions of turkey, and shed their blood in her defense, are entitled to become the guardians of her interests, which are, henceforth, so identified with their own. 4. the resources of the country must be developed, and a system of internal improvements established, by which the ruinous principle of centralization will be counteracted, and the beneficial effects of this regeneration felt in the uttermost corners of the land. a general and accurate survey of the country is indispensable, defining the exact boundaries of both public and private lands, and the idea that the natural treasures of the soil, belonging to individuals, appertain to the government, must be abandoned. hitherto much of the wealth of the country has lain dormant, because there was no incentive to exploration of any sort. 5. the vakuf system must be abolished, and the accumulated wealth devoted to internal improvements, thus depriving the ulema of their great arm of power. it is true, the government has in some measure controlled these revenues, and established a bureau of all the vakufs, called evkaf, but it has never dared to appropriate, or to touch any portion of this income for its own purposes. 6. equal taxation should be levied on property, and the tariff equitably regulated. 7. a limited free press must be established as the only means of bringing into publicity the corruptions and abuses to which the officials have hitherto been addicted. these are the most apparent means of the preservation and regeneration of turkey. broad principles may be laid as the foundation, but the edifice is to be raised and the master builders must not desert their work. for, unless these salutary reforms are accomplished by the aid and influence of the european powers, there is no hope of the preservation of turkey, nor is there any security for the peace of all europe and the world in general. the only question is, can these reformations be effected in turkey? the nature of the mohammedan religion is not essentially in opposition to reform. modern times have proved the koran of a more elastic nature than was once supposed, as was exemplified in the establishment of quarantine regulations; when it was pretended, that it was blasphemous to interfere with the decrees of allah to protect human life; but as it was proved that the koran allowed self-protection, the measure was sanctioned by the expounders of that sacred book, and accepted by the mussulmans. apostasy from islamism was formerly punished with death; but when lord stratford de redcliffe interfered in behalf of humanity in the case of poor ovagim, who was beheaded in 1843, the koran was found to be on his side. the same lenity was manifested by the mohammedans of hindoostan, only a few months ago, towards an apostate, on the plea that the country was now under british jurisdiction. the reason is, that the principles of islamism are so very simple that they can be adapted to any degree of modification and reform, especially under the pressure of circumstances--besides, necessity knows no law, not even the koran itself. but it may be said that the government thus remodelled will no longer be turkish or mohammedan. surely the aim of the friends of this falling empire is not to re-instate a decaying faith, but to enable the turks and all the inhabitants of the land, to gird up their strength and stand before the world a united and powerful people, freed from bigotry and superstition, a great ottoman nation. turkey has been admitted into the fraternity of europe; not as a mohammedan power, but as one of the powers that rule the earth's domains. the sultan has a voice among the potentates of his times--not the voice of mohammed the prophet, but of the civilized and regenerated friend of his own people and the world in general. a new era has dawned upon mohammedanism; for, if the christian world has for the first time received into its confederation an anti-christian empire, the mohammedans, by entering such a confederation, have also for the first time placed themselves on an equality with the former giavours, whom the precepts of the koran have proscribed, and doomed to the sword of the faithful. here then is a bold stride beyond the confines of a faith only suited to barbaric days, and well calculated to sway the minds of a superstitious multitude on to conquest. as consanguinity with civilization is strengthened, who can trace the pathway of the mussulman nation through the world's history! the genius of the country and the condition of the people are not in opposition to the progress of reform. the past history of this nation has been the progress of mohammedanism--its conquests and its laws. as moses was both the spiritual and temporal law-giver to the jews, so has mohammed been to the turkomans. such laws suited the exigencies of the times; but the sword is sheathed, and in its sheath too, must abide the darkness and barbarity of past ages. besides mohammedanism in turkey is not the same as in arabia or bokhara, where imams and priests predominate. the turkomans had, previous to embracing islamism, a civil government of their own; and in making the koran the rule of faith and conduct, they never lost the idea of sovereignty independent of religion. hence the turkish has never been like the papal government, where cardinals and bishops represent all the departments of the pontifical state. the very existence of two distinct representatives of the sultan, the grand vezir and the sheikh-ul-islam, are evidences of a separation of church and state. if the ecclesiastical has hitherto superseded the civil power, it has been through the superstitions of the people, and the chicanery of the officials. the only real union is in the person of the sultan, who is the proxy of allah, and the supreme ruler of his people. his will and his edicts are regarded by them with superstitious reverence. the natural relations of this empire with the rest of the world, as well as its new ties of consanguinity with civilization, must, of necessity, bring about a revolution of policy as well as of action. his majesty has already introduced many measures of reform--such as the abolishing of capital punishment--the promulgation of a new constitution, with the privilege of free deliberation in the national councils, etc.; and besides all these, he has already commenced, even in his own person and household, a renovation, which is, in reality, only a conformation to the habits of civilized life. he has become himself a salaried executive, diminished his own retinue, etc. the sultan well understands the imitative nature of his own people, and is aware that he is the model to the grand vezir and the various pashas, who, in their turn, are the channels of his majesty's own movements to the rest of their fellow citizens. constantinople is the city where the game is played by high and low, "so does the grand mufti." indeed, the very monkeys of india cannot excel them in their disposition to imitate each other. for, it is said that a merchant once carrying a large bale of fesses, or red caps on a speculation, opened his goods on the way, with the view to examine them; and taking one out and putting it upon his head laid down to repose a while under a tree. what was his astonishment on waking, to find his stock of caps had taken wings. he looked around in dismay, but happening to cast his eyes upwards, he beheld a whole colony of monkeys each sporting one of his caps! it seemed a hopeless case to catch each one of them and force him to surrender the cap. in his anger and bewilderment he seized his cap and in a passion threw it to the ground; when the whole tribe of these mimicking creatures of the grove, instinctively, with the same vehemence, divested themselves of their head-gear! in imitation of sultan, pashas, and efendi, the people in the east have already doffed their robes and turbans; and are ready for other reforms, if derived from the same honored projectors; crosses now adorn the breasts of statesmen, and his majesty, the sultan, displays on his person the insignia of the garter. indeed much good may be anticipated from the liberal sentiments and benevolent dispositions of the sultan, were he but rightly advised and sustained in the exercise of his absolute power; with the requisite protection against inimical intrigues and aggressions, both foreign and domestic. besides, the government itself is already divided into two parties, the liberal, who are ready to throw off the yoke of ancient prejudices, and the church party, who not only with a blind zeal, but with hopes of self-aggrandizement, are resolved to maintain the rule of superstition. now as the advancement, the maintenance of the country is dependent on the one, its retrogradation and downfall involved in the other, so europe necessarily holds out its strong arm to the one, and leaves the other not only unsupported but threatened. the wisest of the turkish statesmen are therefore prepared for changes; indeed, they feel themselves bound to certain compromises with their friends the allied powers, who engaged in the war, as they well know, not with the view to reinstate mussulman oppression and bigoted misrule, but to set the country on a new footing--by raising the christian population to a level with the mussulman. considering the almost equal proportion of the christians to the mohammedans, it is but just, there should at least be an equality of national rights and privileges. for in civilized countries, even a minority is protected and their rights respected; how much more then should this be the case where there is not only no disproportion in numbers--but decided superiority in civilization. besides, should the mohammedans resist the required concessions--the great christian population of turkey is ready to join their western co-religionists in any movement. therefore it is only a wise policy in the mohammedans, making a virtue of necessity, to submit to circumstances, rather than by opposing, to work their own ruin. the great essential is a community of interest, which has already, in some cases, produced a legitimate action. the corps of firemen is composed of both mussulmans and christians, who not only unite in a common effort for mutual good, but call each other brothers, carouse together, shed their blood in each other's defense, and never seem to remember their characteristic dissimilarities. there is already an indisposedness towards the tenacity of religious fanaticism, which is so hostile to moral and social progress. many of the distinguished men of turkey having resided abroad, and acquired foreign languages, have imbibed a taste for the literature of europe. a familiarity with the works of such authors as voltaire, volney, and rousseau, has made many of them free-thinkers. indeed, most of the younger members of the porte are men of liberal sentiments. they pay external deference to the religion of the state rather from motives of self-interest than from any moral conviction. nevertheless, some of these very men, so long habituated to power and the spoils of office, may, under the guise of religious enthusiasm, become the instigators of opposition through the superstitions of the multitude. hence the gazettes will occasionally report hostile demonstrations, and even bloodshed; but any attempts at insurrection must prove futile; for, with the destruction of the janissaries, the spirit of rebellion perished in turkey. besides, recent events having brought the superiority and power of europe within the immediate vision of the whole population, they have been forced to call to mind their own proverb, that "the elephant is greater than the camel," and doubtless they will henceforth arrive at a juster appreciation of their own capabilities. much more might be written on so extended a theme as the sultan and his people, and an abler pen portray the condition of this interesting eastern empire, just emerging from barbarism into civilization. yet it may be hoped that these humble efforts will awaken some sympathy in behalf of a country and its inhabitants, who so much need the interest and assistance of other lands; at a moment, too, when the question is of life or death; of free progressive life, under the shelter of the broad wings of civilization, or of a suffering death within the claws of the rapacious vulture of despotism and oppression. it may be objected that turkey has been represented "en couleur de rose." if that roseate hue has been given, the odorous flower has been presented with all its thorns, divested of the verdure which might have concealed their bristling points. but the sweetest rose may preserve its pure essence and odor, even while growing amid wild and poisonous roots; and if the noxious weeds can be uprooted, turkey may, with the requisite culture, become one of the fairest gardens which adorn our beautiful planet. it is to be hoped, that the morning twilight is already casting its softening beams over this land of the orient; and that the noon-tide glory of the sun of peace and regeneration, will, ere long, irradiate with its glorious effulgence, this ancient and interesting empire! the end. note [1] some historians attribute the origin of the janissaries to orkhan; at the same time all agree that they were blessed by hadji bektash--forgetting that the said sheikh was only contemporary with mourad, and not orkhan. area handbook for albania _co-authors_ eugene k. keefe sarah jane elpern william giloane james m. moore, jr. stephen peters eston t. white research and writing were completed on july 17, 1970 published january 1971 da pam 550-98 =library of congress catalog card number: 73-609651= for sale by the superintendent of documents, u.s. government printing office, washington, d.c. 20402--price $2.50 foreword this volume is one of a series of handbooks prepared by foreign area studies (fas) of the american university, designed to be useful to military and other personnel who need a convenient compilation of basic facts about the social, economic, political, and military institutions and practices of various countries. the emphasis is on objective description of the nation's present society and the kinds of possible or probable changes that might be expected in the future. the handbook seeks to present as full and as balanced an integrated exposition as limitations on space and research time permit. it was compiled from information available in openly published material. an extensive bibliography is provided to permit recourse to other published sources for more detailed information. there has been no attempt to express any specific point of view or to make policy recommendations. the contents of the handbook represent the work of the authors and fas and do not represent the official view of the united states government. an effort has been made to make the handbook as comprehensive as possible. it can be expected, however, that the material, interpretations, and conclusions are subject to modification in the light of new information and developments. such corrections, additions, and suggestions for factual, interpretive, or other change as readers may have will be welcomed for use in future revisions. comments may be addressed to: the director foreign area studies the american university 5010 wisconsin avenue, n.w. washington, d.c. 20016 preface albania, or, as it proclaimed itself in 1946, the people's republic of albania, emerged from world war ii under the control of the local communist movement, which later adopted the name albanian workers' party. the most remarkable feature of albanian life during the 1960s was the rigid alignment with communist china in that country's ideological struggle with the soviet union. in mid-1970 the country continued to be communist china's only european ally and its mouthpiece in the united nations. propaganda broadcasts in several languages, extensive for such a small, undeveloped country, continued to emanate from the capital city of tirana, constantly reiterating the chinese communist line and making radio tirana sound like an extension of radio peking. albania's most notable tradition from ancient times has been one of foreign domination. brief periods of independence have been overshadowed by long centuries of subjection to alien rule. foreign rulers never seemed able or willing to subject the albanian peasants to the complete authority of a central government. throughout their history albanians, protected by the remoteness of their mountain villages, often enjoyed a measure of autonomy even though they lacked national independence. the foreign domination plus the limited autonomy developed in the people a spirit of fierce independence and a suspicion of neighboring states that might have designs on their territorial integrity. militarily undeveloped but unwilling to submit to partition by its neighbors, albania has held on precariously to autonomy since world war ii by becoming a client state--first to yugoslavia, then to the soviet union, and then to communist china. in all three relationships albania has maintained its independence but it has not been able to establish itself as a viable economic entity. the _area handbook for albania_ seeks to present an overview of the various social, political, and economic aspects of the country as they appeared in 1970. the leaders of the communist party have gone to extremes to maintain an aura of secrecy about their nation and their efforts to govern it. material on albania is scanty and some that is available is not reliable but, using their own judgments on sources, the authors have striven for objectivity in this effort to depict albanian society in 1970. the spelling of place names conforms to the rulings of the united states board on geographic names, with the exception that no diacritical marks have been used in this volume. the metric system has been used only for tonnages. country summary 1. country: people's republic of albania (albania). called shqiperia by albanians. a national state since 1912. under communist control after 1944. 2. government: functions much like party-state model of soviet union. constitution designates people's assembly as highest state organ; its presidium conducts state affairs between assembly sessions. people's council highest organ at district and lower echelons. communist party (officially, the albanian workers' party) organizations parallel government organizations and control them from national to local levels. party members hold all key positions in government. 3. size and location: area, 11,100 square miles; smallest of the european communist states. extends 210 miles from southern to northern extremities; 90 miles on longest east-west axis. bordered on north and east by yugoslavia; on southeast and south by greece; and on west by adriatic and ionian seas. 4. topography: a narrow strip of lowland borders adriatic sea; remainder of country is mountainous and hilly, intersected by streams that flow in westerly or northwesterly direction. terrain is generally rugged. 5. climate: unusually varied. coastal lowlands have mediterranean-type climate. inland fluctuations common, but continental influences predominate. annual precipitation is 40 to 100 inches according to area; highly seasonal; summer droughts common. temperatures vary widely because of differences in elevation and the changes in prevailing mediterranean and continental air currents. 6. administrative divisions: twenty-six districts. economic and social factors played important role in shaping delineations. control and direction is from tirana. 7. population: estimated 2.1 million in january 1970. growth unusually rapid; at 1970 rate, would double in twenty-six years. two-thirds live in rural areas. inhabitants are 97-percent ethnic albanian. about 106 males per 100 females. 8. labor: in 1967 the working-age population numbered about 932,000, of which approximately 745,000 were employed. about 66.7 percent were in agriculture; 14.1 percent in industry; 5.4 percent in construction; and 13.8 percent in trade, education, health, and others. 9. language: albanian spoken by everyone. some of the 3-percent minority use tongue of country of family origin as a second language. 10. education: nearly all persons under age forty are literate, according to albanian statistics. communist ideas and principles emphasized with strict controls by centralized authority. production of capabilities and skills required for modernization and industrialization considered to be a major goal. 11. religion: organized religion destroyed by government action in 1967. party-directed antireligious campaign aims to eliminate religious thought and belief. pre-world war ii data indicated population to be 70-percent muslim, 20-percent eastern orthodox, and 10-percent roman catholic. 12. health: many diseases, but reportedly greatly reduced or eliminated. health improved substantially after 1950, as reflected in albanian reports. malnutrition, poor sanitary-hygienic conditions, and lack of trained personnel are continuing problems. 13. justice: system of people's courts from national to village level; purportedly independent of administrative system but guided by party policy. supreme court elected by the people's assembly. district judges popularly elected from among party-approved candidates. jury system not used. persons are subject to military law and tried in military courts. 14. economy: government controlled. follows planning model of soviet union. per capita gross national product lowest in europe. lack of accessible resources, arable land, and trained work force make for slow growth. 15. industry: poorly developed despite heavy emphasis since 1950s, with priority to means of production. extractive industries most productive. growth rates high in 1950s, slowed in 1960s. 16. agriculture: production low because of lack of arable land and inefficient methods. cereal crops for domestic use and exportable items, such as tobacco, fruits, and vegetables, most important. 17. imports: largely items for industrial development and unfinished materials for processing. some food, but quantity decreasing. 18. exports: mostly at the expense of domestic needs, except for some metals and minerals. low in proportion to imports, but increasing. 19. finance: currency: the lek is standard unit; lacks solid backing. banks are state owned and operated. national income consistently less than expenditures, requiring supplement from foreign sources. 20. communications: government owned and controlled. press and radio as instruments to indoctrinate effectively reach the masses. other media poorly developed. 21. railroads: approximately 135 miles standard-gauge. none cross international borders. 22. roads: approximately 3,000 miles have improved surface. rugged terrain makes travel difficult on others. none part of important international routes. 23. ports: durres, largest and most important, alone links with hinterland. vlore only other major port. 24. air transportation: extremely limited within country and with foreign cities. long-distance international flights require connections through intermediate points. facilities for all but small aircraft limited to tirana area. 25. international agreements and treaties: member, united nations after 1955. member, council for mutual economic assistance (comecon) and warsaw treaty organization, 1955-68; participation all but ceased after 1961 split with soviet union. 26. aid programs: united nations relief and rehabilitation agency (unrra) 1945-46; yugoslavia 1947-48, as an integrated economy; soviet union 1948-61; and communist china after 1961. 27. security: party-controlled agencies closely watch people's activities and secure borders. security forces total approximately 12,500. 28. armed forces: the people's army, approximately 40,000, includes army, navy, and air elements. most conscripts serve two years. cost, about 10 percent of total budget. people's republic of albania table of contents page foreword iii preface v country summary vii chapter 1. general character of the society 1 2. historical setting 9 antiquity and the middle ages--ottoman turk rule--national awakening and independence--creation of modern albania--communist seizure and consolidation of power--the communist period 3. physical environment 25 natural regions--national boundaries--local administrative areas--climate--drainage--natural resources--transportation 4. the people 49 population--ethnic groups--languages--settlement patterns--living conditions 5. social system 67 traditional social patterns and values--social stratifications under communist rule--education--religion 6. government structure and political system 103 formal structure of government--court system--political dynamics--foreign relations 7. communications and cultural development 125 nature and functions of the information media--the press--radio and television--book publishing and libraries--cultural development 8. economic system 145 labor--agriculture--industry--finance--foreign economic relations 9. internal and external security 175 historical background--the military establishment--the military establishment and the national economy, foreign military relations--security forces bibliography 197 glossary 209 index 213 list of illustrations figure page 1 transportation systems in albania xiv 2 landform regions in albania 28 3 administrative districts in albania 34 4 rivers and lakes in albania 38 5 educational system in albania, 1969 89 list of tables table page 1 temperature and precipitation averages for selected locations in albania 36 2 drainage basins in albania 40 3 albanian vital statistics for selected years, 1950-68 52 4 social composition of the population of albania 76 5 summary of educational institutions, pupils, and teachers in albania, for selected years 92 6 students attending higher institutes in albania 93 7 selected albanian newspapers, 1967 130 8 selected albanian periodicals, 1967 131 9 albanian radio stations, 1969 133 10 production of field crops and fruits in albania, 1960 and 1965-70 156 11 livestock in albania, 1960, 1964-66, and 1970 plan 156 12 industrial production in albania, 1960 and 1964-69 163 [illustration: _figure 1. transportation systems in albania_] chapter 1 general character of the society the people's republic of albania was, in 1970, the smallest and economically most backward of the european communist nations, with an area of 11,100 square miles located between yugoslavia and greece along the central west coast of the balkan peninsula. its population of approximately 2.1 million was considered to be 97-percent ethnic albanian, with a smattering of greeks, vlachs, bulgars, serbs, and gypsies. practically the entire population used albanian as the principal language. the country officially became a communist "people's republic" in 1946 after one-party elections were held. actually, the communist-dominated national liberation front had been the leading political power since 1944, after successfully conducting civil war operations against non-communist forces while concurrently fighting against italian and german armies of occupation. the communist regime operated first under the mask of the democratic front from 1944 to 1948 and, subsequently, through the albanian workers' party; it asserted that it was a dictatorship of the proletariat--the workers and the peasants--and that it ruled according to the leninist principle of democratic centralism. in practice, a small, carefully selected party group, which in 1970 was still under the control of enver hoxha and mehmet shehu, the partisan leaders of the world war ii period, made all important policy and operational decisions (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). in order to gain broad support for its programs the party utilized mass social organizations. these included the democratic front, the successor in 1945 to the national liberation front; the union of albanian working youth; the united trade unions; and others. direct election of governmental bodies, from the people's councils in villages to the people's assembly at the national level, gave the appearance of representative institutions. while seemingly democratic, these assemblies met infrequently and for short periods and had no real power. the average citizen has never had any influence in national politics. during the 1920-39 period vested interests, mostly landowners and clan chiefs, were the predominant influence. a middle class was lacking, and the great bulk of the population, the rural peasantry, was held in a state of subservience by local leaders. under communist rule political power has been concentrated completely in the party leadership (see ch. 2, historical setting; ch. 6, government structure and political system). the system of controls circumscribed individual freedoms and reached nearly every facet of day-to-day life. the communist regime, by its totalitarian rule, extended and increased obedience to, and fear of, centralized authority. a new ruling elite, that of the party, was substituted for the _beys_ (see glossary) and _pashas_ (see glossary) of pre-communist times (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). the goals of the communist regime as revealed during the 1944-70 period were to strengthen and perpetuate the party's hold on the reins of government, to maintain albanian independence, and to modernize society according to the leninist-stalinist model. by capitalizing on the divisions among the communist nations and by eliminating or rendering harmless internal opposition, the party had a firm grip on the instruments of control, and by 1961 independence was reasonably well secured. only modest progress had been made by 1970 toward modernization. the lack of extensive natural resources and continued reliance on foreign aid caused much strain and required sacrifices by the ordinary citizen (see ch. 2, historical setting; ch. 9, internal and external security). albania tended to be highly aggressive and partisan in the ideological struggles between the communist and western democratic states and those between the communist nations. the successive close relationships with yugoslavia (1944-48), the soviet union (1949-60), and china after 1961 reflected the inherent insecurity of a weak state. although these coalitions frequently seemed to place albania in a subservient role, the ultimate goals of the hoxha-shehu regime were to develop political autonomy and economic self-sufficiency, thus reducing dependence on foreign aid to a point where albania could be truly independent (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). in many respects albania was a closed society. government controls over all internal communications media ensured that only party-approved information was disseminated; however, foreign transmissions were not jammed, probably because funds were not available. the individual's activities were closely watched by security police or other party watchdogs. travel into and out of the country was restricted and closely controlled (see ch. 7, communications and cultural development; ch. 9, internal and external security). pre-communist albania gained independence in 1912 after 4-â½ centuries of rule by the ottoman turks. the movement toward nationhood during the latter part of the nineteenth century and the early twentieth took advantage of the disintegration of turkish power and the rivalry between european nations vying for control over the balkans. the opportunity for independence came when a group of balkan nations attacked turkey and proclaimed their intention of seizing the european part of the ottoman empire. a group of albanian patriots, under the leadership of ismail qemal bey vlora, thwarted the desires of albania's neighbors to partition the country by declaring independence on november 28, 1912. the new nation sought and received backing from the great powers of europe, thus forcing the weaker balkan nations to give up their plans for the annexation of albanian territory. under the cruel, corrupt, and inefficient ottoman rule, institutions and capabilities for self-government were not allowed to develop, and the country was ill prepared for statehood when it arrived. development had hardly begun when world war i brought chaos to the country as the opposing powers used it as a battleground. after the war, as albania struggled to assert itself as a national entity, the lack of natural resources and a poorly developed economy created a heavy requirement for foreign aid. excessive reliance on fascist italy during the 1920s and 1930s eventually led to annexation by that expansionist power. after regaining its independence during world war ii, albania again compromised its sovereignty by excessive reliance on outside powers: first on yugoslavia, which was heavily involved in the establishment of the communist party in albania, and then on the soviet union. catastrophe was averted in each instance by a split between communist nations. when joseph stalin expelled yugoslavia from the communist bloc of nations in 1948, enver hoxha switched his allegiance to the soviet union and ended his country's economic reliance on yugoslavia, which had all but incorporated albania into its federation. for the next several years albania was a soviet satellite but, as the rift between the soviet union and communist china widened, hoxha continually sided with the chinese and, when the break came in 1961, albania severed its soviet ties and became an ally of communist china. the lack of resources and an undeveloped economy, the same economic problems that had plagued newly independent albania in the 1920s, continued to be problems in 1970, and foreign aid was still a necessity. communist china provided an undetermined amount of assistance during the 1960s and into 1970 but, from the albanian point of view, the danger of loss of sovereignty to distant china was much less than it had been during the periods when the country was a client state of nearby italy, yugoslavia, and the soviet union. the lack of easily defended national boundaries was an additional concern in the maintenance of territorial integrity. although the boundaries originally established in 1913 remained relatively unchanged and were not officially disputed in 1970, they were not considered satisfactory in some sectors. about 1 million albanians lived in adjacent areas of yugoslavia, mostly in the kosovo region, and albania revealed her dissatisfaction that they were not included within its territory. neither albania nor greece was content with the demarcation along the two most southerly districts of albania. the lack of sharply defined terrain features in most places along the northern and eastern borders with yugoslavia and the southeastern and southern delineation between albania and greece increased the potential for dispute (see ch. 2, historical setting; ch. 3, physical environment). the topography of the land is generally rugged, and access to inland areas is difficult. except for the narrow strip of lowlands along the adriatic coast, the country is made up of mountains and hills, intermittently intersected by streams that flow in a generally westerly or northwesterly direction. valleys in the hinterland are narrow, and slopes of mountains and hills tend to be steep (see ch. 3, physical environment). considering albania's small area, climatic conditions are quite varied. along the coastal lowlands mediterranean-type weather prevails. in the interior there are rapid fluctuations in many areas, but continental influences predominate. despite annual precipitation ranging from 40 to 100 inches, droughts are common because rainfall is unevenly distributed (see ch. 3, physical environment). few places offer good conditions for large-scale settlement. localities with good soil and a dependable water supply are small and scattered. the coastal lowlands, inundated or desert-like according to the season, are lightly populated. the region generally bounded by durres, tirana, elbasan, and fier grew most rapidly and had the highest population density in the late 1960s. inland, the mountain and upland basins offer the best conditions for settlement (see ch. 3, physical environment; ch. 4, the people). the extensive networks of rivers are of little value for transportation because waterflow fluctuates, currents tend to be violent, and estuaries are heavily sedimented. road and railroad construction is difficult because of the uneven character of the terrain. improved land transportation routes are exceedingly limited. mountain homesteads and villages frequently have only a footpath to connect them with the outside world. the lack of communications routes results in isolation for many areas and helps to place albania on a byway of international travel (see ch. 3, physical environment; ch. 4, the people). remote and isolated areas had a significant influence in shaping albanian society. during the long period of turkish rule they provided sanctuaries for the preservation of ethnic identity. after 1912 the people in these areas were the primary residuary for antiquated customs and attitudes. communist leaders made a major effort in the 1960s to eliminate old customs and other vestiges of the past that detracted from the collectivization and modernization of society. comments of high officials in early 1970 indicated that their efforts still had not been entirely successful (see ch. 2, historical setting; ch. 4, the people). the albanians are descendants of the illyrians, an indo-european people who lived in the balkans in antiquity. their history before the eleventh century is linked with, and not easily separated from, that of the other illyrian tribes. the written language did not develop until the fifteenth century, and then for more than four centuries under turkish rule it was forbidden. although albanians distinguished themselves as soldiers under turkish suzerainty and some held high office in the ottoman ruling hierarchy, they were little known as a people before the nineteenth century. as members of clans or feudal estates they lived an outmoded life style and were relatively untouched by the forces of industrialization and democratization that changed much of western and southern europe in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (see ch. 2, historical setting). for centuries after the death in 1468 of skanderbeg, the albanian national hero and symbol of resistance to turkish rule, many albanian mountain communities lived unto themselves. local control rested with _pashas_ and _beys_, and some became virtually independent of turkish rule. about two-thirds of the people accepted, or were forcibly converted to, the muslim faith under the turks. since eligibility to participate in political life rested on religious affiliation, some albanians thus became a part of the ruling hierarchy of the ottoman empire, but the masses were indifferent politically. activities or attitudes that would tend to strengthen nationalism were suppressed. when considered in its entirety the heritage from ottoman rule contributed almost nothing toward the development of capabilities required for a viable government and a modernized society (see ch. 2, historical setting). kinship, customs, and attitudes related to family life, and strong attachments to community and language were strong influences in the preservation of ethnic identity through the many centuries of foreign domination. the albanians are divided into two major subgroups--the gegs, who occupy the area north of the shkumbin river, and the tosks, who inhabit the territory to the south. differences in physical appearance persist, but the breakup of clans and moves toward collectivization of society after world war ii diminished the most distinguishing feature, their social system. antiquated customs and blood feuds that were frequently initiated by offenses against women were more prevalent among the gegs than the tosks before the communist takeover (see ch. 4, the people). the family continued to be a strong social force in 1970. it was the primary residuary of customs, practices, and attitudes that detracted from communist programs to create a monolithic and modernized society. older persons, particularly males, who traditionally held positions of authority in the family, were considered to be the strongest force against change. in their efforts to eliminate outmoded customs, party and government leaders placed special emphasis on youth and women, the latter having suffered much discrimination under the clan system. large extended families, which sometimes numbered sixty or more persons and included several generations, were in most cases broken up under communist rule as a means to decrease family influence (see ch. 5, social system). party leaders, realizing the importance of education in developing attitudes and loyalties favorable to communism and in training the work force required for a modern industrial economy, placed heavy emphasis on school programs. by 1970 the level of schooling completed by the people had been significantly increased over the 1946 level, but the pool of scientific and skilled personnel fell far short of requirements (see ch. 5, social system). the most noteworthy improvement in the people's welfare, as reflected by albanian data, was in the area of health. the incidence of disease was greatly reduced; the death rate decreased; and life expectancy increased by approximately 12.5 years between 1950 and 1966 (see ch. 4, the people). albanian art, literature, and music have gained little recognition among world cultures. after 1944 the communist regime instituted mass participation in education and social and cultural activities to instill ideals of socialism and communist morality and gain the capabilities required for modernization of the economy. illiteracy, once prevalent among all age groups, was reportedly eliminated among persons under the age of forty and some, but not nearly all, of the skilled work force required has been produced. despite these efforts albania's cultural heritage was still meager in the late 1960s (see ch. 5, social system; ch. 7, communications and cultural development). albanians as individuals tended to take religion lightly, and the muslim, eastern orthodox, and roman catholic religions that had been brought by conquerors did not play major roles in shaping national traditions or in strengthening national unity. in 1967, after the government's withdrawal of approval for religious bodies to function, an accelerated campaign was undertaken to eradicate religious thoughts and beliefs. the fact that the campaign was continuing in early 1970 indicated that it had not entirely succeeded (see ch. 5, social system). the major economic objective is to develop a modern economy with a strong industrial base. before world war ii there was practically no industry, and the system of agriculture was primitive and inefficient. substantial aid from the soviet union during the 1950s resulted in modest growth of the economy, with rapid rates of industrial growth and improvements in education and health. chinese aid on a lesser scale and heavy sacrifices by the masses sustained the growth trend in industry during the 1960s but at a slower pace. the major source of national income changed from agriculture to industry during the early 1960s, but the country was still by all appearances predominantly rural and agricultural. two-thirds of the people lived in rural areas, and more than half were engaged in agriculture. socialization of the economy, which began in 1944, was completed in the late 1960s. the model of planning borrowed from the soviet union that was adopted in the late 1940s continued in use with only slight modifications. the trend was toward greater centralization and governmental control (see ch. 8, economic system). the provision of adequate and proper food, clothing, and housing was a constant major problem. little improvement was made in the standard of living between 1950 and 1970, largely because of sustained rapid population growth and priority to the means of production sector of industry in the allocation of resources (see ch. 4, the people; ch. 8, economic system). chapter 2 historical setting historical works and official documents published in tirana as late as 1970 stressed two major themes: the importance of patriotism and nationalism and the achievements, real or fancied, of the communist regime since it assumed control of the country in november 1944. the appeal to nationalism always strikes a responsive chord among the albanians not only because their history is replete with humiliations and injustices heaped upon them by long domination of foreign powers but also, and especially, because of the territorial aspirations and claims of its neighbors--italy, yugoslavia, and greece. the political scene in albania since it formally won an independent existence from turkey in 1912 has indeed been dominated by attempts of one, or a combination, of its neighbors to dismember it. the boundaries of albania in 1970 were essentially the same as those delineated by representatives of the great powers after albania had declared its independence. ethnic problems raised by the drawing of the boundaries have never been solved to the satisfaction of the countries involved. the albanians hold that in 1913 about 40 percent of their territory, with a population at that time of about 600,000 ethnic albanians, was unjustly assigned to serbia. the area has been a continuing source of friction between albania and yugoslavia. a source of tension between albania and greece has been the status of albania's two southernmost districts. known to the greeks as northern epirus, this region was awarded to albania by the boundary delineations of 1913, but the greeks have never relinquished their claims to the area. italy, located only about forty-five miles across the narrow strait of otranto, has attempted on several occasions to impose its hegemony over albania. the extreme influence exercised on albanian affairs by italy between 1925 and 1939 that culminated in a military invasion in april of 1939 has been a source of great resentment by the albanian people. the communist party of albania assumed control of the country in 1944. the fact that the communist regime installed itself in the capital city of tirana on november 28, albania's traditional independence day, was an indication that originally it did not intend to cut off all ties with the past, although its declared intention was to create a new social order. a year later, however, on november 29, the regime proclaimed a new national holiday, which it called liberation day. until about 1960 the traditional independence day was mentioned only in passing, whereas liberation day was celebrated with considerable publicity. a basic change of attitude, however, occurred when the regime broke with the soviet union in the 1960-61 period. the ruling elite, apparently feeling insecure both for their personal safety and for the future of the country, launched an intensive campaign to win popular support by appealing to the people's nationalist and patriotic sentiments. the country's major patriots who were responsible for the national awakening in the second half of the nineteenth and the early part of the twentieth centuries had been forgotten after the communist seizure of power. in 1961 and 1962, however, books and pamphlets began to be published praising nearly all those, irrespective of their social backgrounds, who had played a role in the national awakening and in the declaration of the country's independence in 1912. intensive preparations were made in 1962 to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the country's independence, and on november 28, 1962, all the top leaders of the party and government went to vlore, where independence had been declared, to stage one of the biggest patriotic celebrations in the country's modern history. among the many books and documents published on this occasion to glorify the country's past was one entitled _rilindja kombetare shqipetare_ (albanian national awakening), which included photographs of most patriots who had taken part in winning the country's independence, even those of the landed aristocracy (_beys_--see glossary), whom the regime had previously branded as the "blood-suckers" of the peasants. this appeal to the past was also accentuated in 1968 in connection with the 500th anniversary of the death of the country's national hero, skanderbeg. the regime sent a number of scholars and historians to search for historical documents in vienna and rome in preparation for the celebration. with the exception of these efforts to resurrect the past after a hiatus of fifteen years, the primary function of the country's historians, all under the control of the party, is to glorify the country's achievements in the period under communism. the party is given credit for all that has been done in the economic development of the country, in improvements in the people's health, and in expansion of educational and cultural facilities, all of which have been considerable. in 1970 enver hoxha, first secretary of the party, like stalin in his day and mao tse-tung in 1970, was daily quoted and glorified. antiquity and the middle ages the modern albanians call their country shqiperia and themselves shqipetare. in antiquity the albanians were known as illyrians, and in the middle ages they came to be called arbereshe or arbeneshe, and their country arberia or arbenia. the present european forms, albania and albanians, are derived from the names arbanoi and albanoi or arbaniti, which appeared in the eleventh century. in antiquity the albanians formed part of the thraco-illyrian and epirot tribes that inhabited the whole of the peninsula between the danube river and the aegean sea. until 168 b.c. the northern and central part of present-day albania comprised parts of the kingdom of illyria, whose capital was shkoder. the illyrian kingdom was conquered by the romans in 168-167 b.c., and thereafter it was a roman colony until a.d. 395, when the roman empire was split into east and west, albania becoming part of the byzantine empire. under the roman empire, albania served as a key recruiting area for the roman legions and a main outlet to the east. the present port of durres (the ancient durrachium) became the western terminum of via egnatia, an actual extension of via appia, by which the roman legions marched to the east. it was during the roman rule that christianity was introduced into albania. from the fifth century to the advent of the ottoman turks in the balkans in the fourteenth century, invasions from the north and east, especially by the huns, the bulgarians, and the slavs, thinned the indigenous illyrian population and drove it along the mountainous adriatic coastal regions. during the crusades in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, albania became a thoroughfare for the crusading armies, which used the port of durres as a bridgehead. by this time the venetian republic had obtained commercial privileges in albanian towns and, after the fourth crusade (1204), it received nominal control over albania and epirus and took actual possession of durres and the surrounding areas. in the middle of the thirteenth century albania fell under the domination of the kings of naples, and in 1272 armies of charles i of anjou crossed the adriatic and occupied durres. thereupon, charles i issued a decree calling himself rex albaniae and creating regnum albaniae (the kingdom of albania), which lasted for nearly a century. ottoman turk rule in the period after the defeat of the serbs by the ottoman turks in 1389 in the battle of kosovo, most of albania was divided into a number of principalities under the control of native tribal chieftains, most of whom were subsequently forced into submission by the invading turks. some of these chieftains, however, were allowed their independence under turkish suzerainty. one of the most noted of these was john kastrioti of kruje, a region northeast of tirana, whose four sons were taken hostage by the sultan to be trained in the ottoman service. the youngest of these, gjergj, was destined to win fame throughout europe and to be immortalized as the national hero of his country. gjergj (b. 1403) soon won the sultan's favor, distinguished himself in the turkish army, converted to islam, and was bestowed the title of skander bey (lord alexander), which, in albanian, became skanderbeg or skenderbey. in 1443 hungarian king hunyadi routed at nish the sultan's armies, in which skanderbeg held command; skanderbeg fled to his native land and seized from the turks his father's fortress at kruje. his defection and reconversion to christianity and the creation in 1444 of the league of albanian princes, with himself as its head, enraged the ottomans, who began a series of intense campaigns that lasted until skanderbeg's natural death in 1468. in his wars against the turks, skanderbeg was aided by the kings of naples and the popes, one of whom, pope nicholas v, named him champion of christendom. skanderbeg's death did not end albania's resistance to the turks; however, they gradually extended their conquests in albania and in time defeated both the local chieftains and the venetians, who controlled some of the coastal towns. the turkish occupation of the country resulted in a great exodus of albanians to southern italy and sicily, where they preserved their language, customs, and eastern orthodox religion. one of the most significant consequences of ottoman rule of albania was the conversion to islam of over two-thirds of the population. as the political and economic basis of the ottoman empire was not nationality but religion, this conversion created a new group of muslim albanian bureaucrats, who not only ruled albanian provinces for the sultans but also served in important posts as _pashas_ (governors) in many parts of the empire. a number of them became _viziers_ (prime ministers), and one, mehmet ali pasha, at the beginning of the nineteenth century founded an egyptian dynasty that lasted until the 1950s. some of the albanian beys and pashas, especially in the lowlands, became almost independent rulers of their principalities. one of these, ali pasha tepelena, known in history as the lion of yannina, whose principality at the beginning of the nineteenth century consisted of the whole area from the gulf of arta to montenegro. by 1803 he had assumed absolute power and negotiated directly with napoleon and the rulers of great britain and russia. the sultan, however, becoming alarmed at the damage ali pasha was doing to the unity of the empire, sent his armies to surround him in yannina, where he was captured and decapitated in 1822. under the turks, albania remained in complete stagnation and, when the turks were expelled from the balkans in 1912, they left it in about the same condition as they had found it. the albanian highlanders, especially in the north, were never fully subjected, and their tribal organizations were left intact. turkish suzerainty affected them only to the extent that it isolated them from the world. thus, they preserved their medieval laws, traditions, and customs. as a result, western civilization and development did not begin to penetrate albania in any meaningful way until it became independent in 1912. national awakening and independence the albanian national awakening made rapid strides after the treaty of san stefano in 1877, imposed on turkey by the russians, gave the balkan slavic nations large parts of albania. the western powers, refusing to accept russia's diktat on turkey, met in berlin the following year to consider revision of the treaty of san stefano. albanian leaders in the meantime convened at prizren and founded the league for the defense of the rights of the albanian nation. although the league was unable to bring sufficient pressure on the congress of berlin to save albania from serious dismemberment, it set in motion a political movement that had tremendous influence on albanian nationalist activity for decades to come. most of the league leaders held high positions in, or were influential members of, the ruling turkish elite and were fully aware of the shaky position of the ottoman empire; they therefore demanded from the turks administrative and cultural autonomy for all albanian lands united in a principality. the turkish government refused and in 1881 forced the dissolution of the league. meanwhile, russia, italy, and austria-hungary began to take an active interest in albania. russia aimed at blocking expansion of austrian influence in the balkans and supported the territorial demands of serbia and montenegro. italy and austria-hungary, on the other hand, concerned over russia's influence extending to the adriatic, attempted to influence developments in albania. the advent of the young turks regime (1908), in whose establishment albanian officials in the service of the empire played a major role, encouraged the albanians to found cultural and political clubs for the propagation of albanian culture and the defense of albanian rights. in 1908 a congress of intellectuals from all parts of albania and the albanian colonies abroad, especially the italo-albanian colonies in italy, convened in monastir (bitolj) to decide on an albanian alphabet; it adopted the latin one as most suitable for the country. this decision marked a great advance toward albanian unification and eventual statehood. in the summer and fall of 1912, while serbia, bulgaria, montenegro, and greece, prodded by russia, were waging war against turkey, the albanians staged a series of revolts and began to agitate for the creation of an autonomous and neutral albania. accordingly, a group of albanian patriots, led by ismail qemal bey vlora, a member of the turkish parliament, proclaimed albania's independence at vlore on november 28, 1912, and organized an albanian provisional government. supported by austria and italy, albania's independence was recognized on december 12, 1912, by the london conference of ambassadors, but its boundaries were to be determined later. in march 1913 agreement was reached on the northern frontiers, assigning shkoder to albania but giving kosovo and metohija (kosmet), inhabited then chiefly by albanians, to serbia. this frontier demarcation was very similar to the frontiers between yugoslavia and albania as they existed in 1970. the boundaries in the south were more difficult to delineate because greece laid claim to most of southern albania, which the greeks call northern epirus. the conference of ambassadors appointed a special commission to draw the demarcation line on ethnographic bases and in december 1913 drafted the protocol of florence, which assigned the region to albania. the 1913 boundaries in the south, like those in the north, were almost the same as those that existed between greece and albania in 1970. the albania that emerged from the conference of ambassadors was a truncated one; as many albanians were left out of the new state as were included in it. the conference of ambassadors also drafted a constitution for the new state, which was proclaimed as an autonomous principality, sovereign, and under the guarantees of the great powers; created an international control commission to control the country's administration and budget; and selected as ruler the german prince wilhelm zu wied. prince wied arrived in march 1914 but had to flee the country six months later because of the outbreak of world war i and the difficulties caused by the unruly feudal beys. as a consequence, albania's independence came to an end, and for the next four years the country served as a battleground for the warring powers. creation of modern albania at the end of world war i albania was occupied by the allied armies, mostly italian and french. the secret treaty of london, concluded in 1915 and published by the russian bolsheviks after the october 1917 revolution, provided for the partition of nearly all albania among italy, serbia, montenegro, and greece. another accord, known as the tittoni-venizelos agreement, concluded between italy and greece in 1919, also called for the dismemberment of albania. at the 1919-20 paris peace conference greece laid claim to southern albania; serbia and montenegro, to the northern part; and italy, to the port of vlore and surrounding areas. but president woodrow wilson's principle of self-determination and his personal insistence on the restoration of an independent albania saved the country from partition. in the summer of 1920 an albanian partisan army drove the italians from vlore, and the italian government recognized albania's independence. in the meantime, in january 1920 a congress of representatives met in lushnje, in central albania, and created a government and a council of regency composed of representatives of the four religious denominations prevailing in albania: the two muslim sects (sunni and bektashi), roman catholic, and eastern orthodox (see ch. 5, social system). from 1920 to 1924 there was political freedom in the country along with extreme political strife. a group of statesmen and politicians, mostly from the old turkish bureaucracy, attempted to lay the foundation of a modern state, but there was a bitter struggle between the old conservative landlords and western educated or inspired liberals. the landowners, led by ahmet zogu, advocated the continuance of feudal tenure and opposed social and economic reforms, especially agrarian reforms. the liberals, led by bishop fan s. noli, a harvard university graduate who had founded the albanian autocephalous orthodox church in boston in 1908 and had returned to albania in 1920, favored the establishment of a western-type democracy. the country was torn by political struggles and rapid changes of government revealed considerable political instability. in june 1924 the liberals staged a successful coup against the conservative landlords, forcing their leader, ahmet zogu, to flee to yugoslavia, and formed a new government under bishop noli. but noli was too radical to command the support of the disparate coalition that had ousted zogu. internally he proposed radical agrarian reforms, the purging and reduction of the bureaucracy, and the establishment of a truly democratic regime. in foreign affairs he extended recognition to the soviet union, a move that alienated some of his supporters at home and alarmed some neighboring states. as a consequence, zogu, having secured foreign support, led an army from yugoslavia and in december 1924 entered the capital city of tirana and became ruler of the country. bishop noli and his closest supporters fled abroad; some eventually went to moscow, and others fell under communist influence in western capitals. zogu's rule in the 1925-39 period, first as president zogu and after september i, 1928, as zog i, king of the albanians, brought political stability and developed a national political consciousness that had been unprecedented in albanian history. to secure his position both internally and externally, he concluded in 1926 and 1927 bilateral treaties with italy, providing for mutual support in maintaining the territorial status quo and establishing a defensive alliance between the two countries. these two treaties, however, assured italian penetration of albania, particularly in the military and economic spheres. king zog ruled as a moderate dictator, his monarchy being a combination of despotism and reform. he prohibited political parties but was lenient to his opponents unless they actually threatened to overthrow his rule, as happened in 1932, 1935, and 1937. but even during these open revolts, he showed a good deal of leniency and executed only a few ringleaders. he effected some substantial reforms both in the administration and in society, particularly outlawing the traditional vendetta and carrying of arms, of which the albanians were very fond. the most significant contribution of zog's fourteen-year rule, the longest since the time of skanderbeg, was the development of a truly national consciousness and an identity of the people with the state, although not necessarily with the monarchy, and the gradual breakdown of the traditional tribal and clan systems. in april 1938 zog married geraldine apponyi, a hungarian countess with an american mother. italian foreign minister count ciano was the best man. on ciano's return to italy from the wedding, he proposed to his father-in-law, benito mussolini, fascist dictator of italy, the annexation of albania. the following year, on april 7, 1939, ciano's suggestion was consummated. italian forces invaded albania on that day, forcing zog to flee the country, never to return. in the next few months rapid steps were taken to unite albania with italy under the crown of king victor emanuel iii and to impose a regime similar to that of fascist italy. albania as an independent state disappeared. communist seizure and consolidation of power resistance to the italian invaders began soon after the invasion, but the few insignificant communist groups that existed at that time did not join the fray until after nazi germany, under adolf hitler, attacked the soviet union in june 1941. these communist groups, acting generally independently of each other, were composed chiefly of young intellectuals who had revolted against the country's medieval society. educated mostly in the west, they felt that their country's economic development and their desire to use their western education for their own and their country's advancement were frustrated by zog's concept of personal rule, by the hostility of traditional chieftains and _beys_, and by the lack of opportunities in the country's underdeveloped society and economy. the leaders of these disparate groups convened clandestinely in tirana on november 8, 1941, and under the guidance of two emissaries from the yugoslav communist party, dusan mugosha and miladin popovic, founded the albanian communist party--known since 1948 as the albanian workers' party. enver hoxha, a young schoolteacher who had studied in france and belgium, was elected provisional and, subsequently, permanent secretary general. in 1970 he still held the same position, under the title of first secretary. from the outset the strategy of the party was to conceal its true marxist program and orientation and to stress nationalism and patriotism. to this end, the front technique, through the national liberation movement, was used. the national liberation movement was created by the conference of peze that was convened, also clandestinely, on september 16, 1942, for the purpose of creating a militant organization to coordinate and intensify the activities of a number of guerrilla bands then active against the italian occupiers. it was sponsored by the party and attended by the party leaders, who at that time paraded as patriots and vehemently denied in public that they were communists, and by a number of nationalist resistance chieftains. the national liberation movement was dominated from the beginning by the communists, as were its military formations, known as partisans. the movement was further strengthened in july 1943 at the conference of labinot, when the general staff of the army of national liberation of albania was created, with enver hoxha as chief commissar. thereafter, under the guise of the national liberation movement, the communist leaders devoted all their energies to obtaining complete control of the partisan formations and to preparing the ground for a seizure of power as soon as the axis powers should be defeated. their prime objectives in the 1943-44 years were to immobilize the nationalist elements who were still in the movement by surrounding them with loyal commissars and, at the same time, to try to annihilate other nationalist groups that had refused from the outset to collaborate with the movement. there was a full-scale civil war in the country from september 1943 to november 1944. the civil war was fought between the partisan formations and the two principal anti-communist organizations--balli kombetar (national front) and the legality movement. the balli kombetar emerged as an organization soon after the national liberation movement was founded; it was led by midhat frasheri, a veteran patriot who had formed a clandestine resistance movement during the early days of italian occupation. the balli kombetar extolled the principles of freedom and social justice and championed the objective of an ethnic albania; that is, the retention of the yugoslav provinces of kosovo and metohija, which the italians had annexed to albania in 1941. for some time it made efforts to collaborate with the national liberation movement, but to no avail. in july and august 1943 representatives of the two movements finally met at mukaj, a village near tirana, to try to work out an agreement of collaboration against the axis forces. the chief obstacle to an accord was the disposition of kosmet. the balli kombetar refused to consider collaboration unless the movement joined in the demand that kosmet remain a part of albania after the war. finally an agreement was reached for collaboration, with the provision that the question of kosmet be resolved after the war. the emissaries of the yugoslav communist party interpreted the agreement as a victory for the nationalists and demanded that the albanian communist party not only denounce the agreement but also launch a full-scale attack on the balli kombetar. the albanian communists bowed to this demand and, in september 1943, launched the attack against balli kombetar and subsequently against the legality movement. this movement was founded in november 1943 by abas kupi, who until august 1943 had been a member of the central council of the national liberation movement but broke away from it after the mukaj agreement was denounced. in may 1944 the national liberation front, as the movement was by then called, sponsored the congress of permet for the purpose of creating the necessary machinery to seize power. the congress appointed hoxha commander in chief of the army of national liberation and elected the albanian anti-fascist liberation council, which in turn created the albanian anti-fascist committee, under the presidency of hoxha, as the executive branch of the council. the congress of berat, convened by the front in october of the same year, converted the committee into a coalition provisional "democratic" government, which in the following month seized control of the whole country and on november 28, albania's traditional independence day, installed itself in tirana. in many respects the 1943-44 civil war in albania followed a course similar to that which took place between the partisan forces (communist) of josip broz (tito) and general mihailovich's chetniks (loyalist) in yugoslavia. the communist operations and final seizure of power in yugoslavia played a major role in the communist takeover in albania. albania was the only european communist country that was freed from the axis invaders without the actual presence of soviet forces and without direct military assistance from the soviet union. political direction was supplied by the emissaries of the yugoslav communist party attached permanently to the albanian communist party after its founding in 1941. the anglo-american command in italy supplied most of the war material to the albanian partisan forces. albania's future was never specifically discussed by the big three--great britain, the soviet union, and the united states--at either the teheran or the yalta conferences. nor did albania figure in the discussions in moscow in october 1944 between churchill and stalin, when they informally agreed to divide eastern europe into spheres of influence, at least for the duration of the war. accordingly, when the last german troops were driven out of albania, there was a kind of political vacuum that the communists, with superior political organizations and substantial armed partisan groups, were able to fill. in august 1945 the first congress of the national liberation front was held, and the name of the organization was changed to the democratic front in an effort to make it more palatable to the public. contending that the democratic front represented the majority of the population because all political opinions and groups except fascists were included in it, the communist rulers allowed only democratic front candidates for the first postwar national elections held in december 1945. the constituent assembly elected at this polling was originally composed of both party members and some nationalist elements. the latter apparently continued to feel that cooperation with the communists was possible but, within a year after the elections, they were summarily purged from the assembly, and subsequently a number of them were tried and executed on charges of being "enemies of the people." all national and local elections since 1945 have been held under the aegis of the democratic front. even after the "liberation," the party continued its conspiratorial nature and did not come into the open until the first party congress was held in november 1948. before that time all its meetings were held in closest secrecy, and no statements, communiques, or resolutions were published in its name. the party thus continued to use the front technique effectively even after it became the undisputed ruler of the country. the communist period the constituent assembly, elected on december 2, 1945, proclaimed on january 11, 1946, the people's republic of albania; and on march 14 it approved the first albanian constitution, based largely on the yugoslav communist constitution. in this first constitution no mention of any kind was made of the role played by the party or any other political organizations. the constitution was, however, amended after the break with yugoslavia in 1948, and revisions of the constitution published since 1951 have cited in article 12 the albanian workers' party as the "vanguard organization of the working class." the communist regime quickly consolidated its power through a ruthless application of the dictatorship of the proletariat. the first measures were both political and economic. in the political field a large number of nationalist leaders who had chosen to remain in the country when the communists seized power rather than flee to the west, as many of them did, were arrested, tried as "war criminals" or "enemies of the people," and were either executed or given long-term sentences at hard labor. all families considered potentially dangerous to the new regime, especially families of the landed aristocracy and the tribal chieftains, were herded into concentration or labor camps, in which most of them perished from exposure, malnutrition, and lack of health facilities. some of these camps were still in existence in 1970. in the economic field a special war-profits tax was levied, which amounted to a confiscation of the wealth and private property of the well-to-do classes. a large number of those who could not pay the tax, because it was higher than their cash and property assets, were sent to labor camps. all industrial plants and mines were nationalized without compensation, and a radical agrarian reform law was passed providing for the seizure of land belonging to the _beys_ and other large landowners and its distribution to the landless peasants. the 1944-48 period was characterized by an increase of power and influence of the yugoslavs over the party and the government. this in turn engendered resentment even among some top party leaders, who were kept in check or purged by koci xoxe, minister of interior and head of the secret police. backed by the yugoslavs, he had become the most powerful man in the party and government but was tried in the spring of 1949 as a titoist and executed. by the beginning of 1948 preparations had been completed to merge albania with yugoslavia, but the plan was not consummated because of the stalin-tito conflict, which resulted in tito's expulsion from the communist information bureau (cominform--see glossary) on june 28. 1948. the stalin-tito rupture offered enver hoxha and his closest colleagues in the albanian party political bureau (politburo) the opportunity to rid themselves of both their internal enemies, such as koci xoxe, and of yugoslav domination. a few days after the cominform resolution against tito, the albanian rulers expelled all yugoslav experts and advisers and denounced most of the political, military, and economic agreements. albania immediately established close relations with moscow, although stalin never signed a mutual assistance pact with tirana, as he had done with all the other european communist countries. the party leadership was now concentrated in the hands of enver hoxha and mehmet shehu. shehu had been dismissed in january 1948 as chief of staff of the albanian people's army, because he had opposed the integration of the yugoslav and albanian armed forces and the stationing of two yugoslav divisions on albanian soil. he was rehabilitated immediately after the break with yugoslavia. the period of direct soviet influence in albania began in september 1948, when the first joint economic agreement was signed. after the establishment of the council for economic mutual assistance (cema) in february 1949, of which albania became a member, the other soviet bloc countries began to extend economic aid. as a result, an intensified program of economic development began. from 1951 to 1955 industrial and agricultural production increased rapidly, and the basis was laid for transforming albania from a backward agricultural economy to a more balanced agricultural-industrial one. the de-stalinization campaign in the soviet union had serious repercussions in the internal situation in albania. although hoxha vetoed any relaxation of police controls and stamped out any dissenting voice within the party after stalin's death, by 1956 there was a significant minority in the party elite that hoped to profit by de-stalinization. the opposition reached its peak at a party conference in tirana in april 1956, held in the aftermath of the soviet twentieth party congress. some of the delegates, including central committee members, criticized openly the conditions in the party and requested that the topics of discussion be concerned with such topics as the cult of personality, the rehabilitation of koci xoxe and other top party leaders purged since 1948, party democracy, and the people's standard of living. hoxha silenced the dissident elements, however, and had most of them expelled from the party or arrested. some were subsequently executed. among those executed were lira gega, formerly a member of the politburo, and her husband, dalli ndreu, a general in the albanian people's army. soviet premier khrushchev charged at the soviet twenty-second congress that gega was pregnant when she was executed. workers' riots in poland and full-scale revolt in hungary in late 1956, followed by general uneasiness throughout communist east europe, gave hoxha additional reasons to increase his control over the party apparatus and to sidestep all pressures from khrushchev for reconciliation with tito. indeed, in an article published in the november 8, 1956, issue of the soviet newspaper _pravda_ (truth), hoxha accused yugoslavia of being at the root of the hungarian revolution and implied that the relaxation of internal tensions in some of the soviet-bloc countries had endangered the existing regimes. in a speech to the party's central committee in february 1957 he came openly to the defense of stalin and lashed out against "those who attempt to discount the entire positive revolutionary side of stalin." hoxha did, however, pay lip service to the collective leadership principle enunciated in moscow after stalin's death. in july 1954 he relinquished the premiership to mehmet shehu, keeping for himself the more important post of first secretary of the party. but aside from this he made no changes in his stalinist method of rule. he demonstrated this after the party conference in tirana in april 1956, when he suppressed ruthlessly all those demanding the elimination of personal rule. hoxha showed the same determination in the summer of 1961, when khrushchev apparently enlisted a number of albanian leaders, including teme sejko, a rear admiral and commander of the navy who had been trained in the soviet union to overthrow the hoxha-shehu duumvirate and replace it with a pro-moscow group. sejko and his colleagues were arrested, and he and two others were later executed. in september of the same year hoxha arrested a number of other top party leaders who were suspected of pro-moscow sympathies. among these were liri belishova, a member of the politburo, and koco tashko, head of the party's auditing commission; these two were also cited by khrushchev as examples of the alleged reign of terror that prevailed in albania. after the break with moscow, albania remained nominally a member of both the cema and the warsaw pact. it did not, however, attend any meetings, and it withdrew officially from the warsaw pact after the soviet invasion of czechoslovakia in 1968. unlike albania's relations with the communist world, which have been varied and fluctuating, those with the western countries have been, with minor exceptions, static and rigid, particularly toward the united states. only two major western powers, france and italy, initially recognized the communist regime and established diplomatic relations with it. proposals made in november 1945 by the american and british governments to normalize relations with the tirana regime were never consummated, chiefly because of the regime's consistent inimical attitude toward them. there have been three distinct periods in the history of the country under communist rule. the first, from 1944 to 1948, was characterized by yugoslav domination. the country's rulers, however, had no difficulty extricating themselves from this domination once stalin broke with tito. in the second period, 1948 to 1961, soviet predominance was evident everywhere in the country. all the armed and security forces wore soviet-type uniforms. the regime copied much of the soviet governmental system. the same kind of bureaucracy and the same secret police, functioning with the same supervision as in the stalinist era in the soviet union, prevailed. in major branches of the government, the military, and the security forces, there were soviet advisers and experts. the economic and cultural fields were also patterned after those of the soviet union. but despite this widespread penetration, the soviets were in the last analysis unable to impose their will on the albanian rulers, and in 1961 they withdrew completely from that country. the third period, begun in 1961, saw the penetration of communist chinese influence in many aspects of political, military, and economic life. like the yugoslavs and soviets before them, the chinese introduced their advisers and experts in various governmental organs and economic enterprises, and probably in the military and security forces as well, but they were there at the invitation of the albanian regime (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). chapter 3 physical environment albania has land borders on the north and east with yugoslavia and on the south and southeast with greece. tirana, the capital, is less than an hour by aircraft from eight other european capitals and barely more than two hours from the most distant of them. the coastline is adjacent to shipping lanes that have been important since early greek and roman times. nevertheless, partly because of its rugged terrain and partly because of its political orientation, the country remains remote and isolated from its european neighbors (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). the large expanses of rugged and generally inaccessible terrain provided refuge for the albanian ethnic group and permitted its distinctive identity to survive throughout the centuries. although the country was almost always under foreign domination, it was never extensively colonized because of the lack of arable land, easily exploitable resources, and natural inland transportation routes. it has been, and continues to be, poorly developed. agricultural and pastoral pursuits have been the primary means of livelihood, and only after 1950 did industry begin to be developed to any appreciable degree. until recently, the coastal lowlands supported few people and did not provide easy access to the interior. the mountains that constitute 70 percent of the country's area are difficult to traverse and generally inhospitable. rivers are almost entirely unnavigable, and only in the south are there valleys wide enough to link the coast with the interior. by 1970 no railway and only three good roads crossed the national borders. the physical characteristics of the land have contributed to differing living conditions and social relationships in the various sectors of the country. before independence in 1912, the area of modern albania had never been politically integrated, nor had it ever been an economically viable unit. it owes its existence as a state to the ethnic factor, and survival of the ethnic group is attributable to the natural isolation of the country. the area is 11,100 square miles. the boundaries, established in principle in 1913 and demarcated in 1923, were essentially unchanged in 1970, although greece had not dropped its claim to a large part of southern albania. the eastern boundary divides the macedonian lake district among three states--albania, greece, and yugoslavia--that have ethnic populations in the area and follows high mountain ridges wherever possible to the north and south of the lakes. the northern and southern borders were drawn to achieve a separation between the albanians and neighboring nationalities, although there is a large group of albanians in the kosovo area of yugoslavia across the northeastern border, and greeks and albanians intermingle in the southeast (see fig. 1). resources are insufficient to make the country wealthy, and some that are available have not been thoroughly exploited. interior regions have been inaccessible. agricultural land has been inefficiently used for centuries because people having large landholdings preferred to maintain more profitable livestock herds rather than cultivate the earth for foodstuff production. malaria, until the 1930s, prevented development or reclamation of the coastal lowlands. lacking the capital investment necessary, extensive development projects had not been undertaken by 1970. the lowlands and the lower mountains of the south have a mediterranean climate; weather in the northern and eastern highlands is dominated by the continental air masses that persist over central and eastern europe. overall rainfall is plentiful throughout the country, but most areas receive it seasonally. apart from the bare rock mountains and portions of the alluvial lowlands that are alternately parched and inundated, most of the land encourages a wide variety of wild vegetation. areas suitable for cultivation, however, are small. there are good soils on about 5 percent of the land surface, but land three or four times that percentage is considered arable. forests cover nearly one-half of the land. about one-fourth is suitable for grazing animals. the citizen relates closely to the land. although he has been nationally independent for only a few years in the twentieth century and very seldom earlier, his property has been so difficult to reach that occupying powers have often left him alone. the land has had beauty that has fostered pride and loyalty, and a hardy breed has survived the constant struggle to derive an existence from it. natural regions the 70 percent of the country that is mountainous is rugged and often inaccessible. the remaining alluvial plain receives its precipitation seasonally, is poorly drained, is alternately arid or flooded, and much of it is devoid of fertility. far from offering a relief from the difficult interior terrain, it is often as inhospitable to its inhabitants as are the mountains. good soil and dependable precipitation occur, however, in river basins within the mountains, in the lake district on the eastern border, and in a narrow band of slightly elevated land between the coastal plains and the higher interior mountains (see fig. 2). north albanian alps the mountains of the far north of albania are an extension of the dinaric alpine chain and, more specifically, the montenegrin limestone (karst) plateau. they are, however, more folded and rugged than the more typical portions of the plateau. the rivers have deep valleys with steep sides and do not furnish arable valley floors; most of the grazing and farming are done on the flatter mountaintops. the rivers provide little access into the area and are barriers to communication within it. roads are few and poor. lacking internal communications and external contacts, a tribal society flourished within this alpine region for centuries. only after world war ii were serious efforts made to incorporate the people of the region into the remainder of the country. southern mountains the extent of the region occupied by the southern mountains is not settled to the satisfaction of all authorities. some include all of the area in a large diamond shape roughly encompassing all the uplands of southern albania beneath lines connecting vlore, elbasan, and korce. although this area has trend lines of the same type and orientation, it includes mountains that are associated more closely with the systems in the central part of the country. other authorities confine the area to the mountains that are east of vlore and south of the vijose river. these have features generally common to southern albania and the adjacent greek epirus. this demarcation is considered preferable because it more nearly defined a traditional area that tends to lose some of the more purely national character of the lands north of it. the southern ranges revert again to the northwest to southeast trend lines characteristic of the dinaric alps. they are, however, more gentle and accessible than the serpentine zone, the eastern highlands, or the north albanian alps. transition to the lowlands is less abrupt, and arable valley floors are wider. limestone is predominant, contributing to the cliffs and clear water along the albanian riviera. an intermixture of softer rocks has eroded and become the basis for the sedimentation that has resulted in wider valleys between the ridges than are common in the remainder of the country. this terrain encouraged the development of larger landholdings, thus influencing the social structure of the area (see ch. 5, social system). [illustration: source: adapted from norman j. g. pounds, _eastern europe_, chicago, 1969, p. 824. _figure 2. landform regions in albania_] lowlands a low coastal belt extends from the northern boundary southward to about vlore. it averages less than ten miles deep but widens to about thirty miles in the elbasan area. in its natural state it is characterized by low scrub vegetation, varying from barren to dense. there are large areas of marshland and other areas of bare eroded badlands. where elevations rise slightly and precipitation is regular--in the foothills of the central uplands, for example--the land is excellent. marginal land is being reclaimed wherever irrigation is possible. the land itself is of recent geological origin. it has been, and is being, created by sediments from the many torrents that erode the interior mountains. new alluvial deposits tend to be gravelly, without humus, and require many years before sufficient vegetation to make them fertile can be established. the sedimentation process, moreover, raises river channels above the level of the nearby terrain. channels change frequently, devastating areas that have not been stabilized and creating marshes in others by blocking off the drainage. road builders are confronted with difficult and constantly changing conditions. rainfall is heavy during the winter and is infrequent to nonexistent during nearly half the year. mosquitoes thrive in the hot, humid, and marshy land. only since about 1930 have there been effective measures to control malaria. before then no extensive working of areas near the marshes could be seriously considered. for these reasons the coastal zone, in addition to supporting few people, has until relatively recently acted as a barrier, hindering, rather than encouraging, contact with the interior. coastal hills descend abruptly to ionian sea beaches along the albanian riviera from vlore bay southward to about sarande. the 500and 1,000-foot contour lines are within a mile or so of the water along nearly the entire distance. in the northern portion a 4,000-foot ridge is frequently only two to three miles inland. south of sarande is another small area of coastal lowlands fronting on the ionian sea and separated from the greek island of corfu (kerkira) by a mile-wide channel. climate and soil conditions permit the cultivation of citrus fruits in this southernmost area of albania. central uplands the central uplands region extends south from the drin river valley, which marks the southern boundary of the north albanian alpine area, to the southern mountains. it is an area of generally lower mountain terrain immediately east of the lowlands. in the north, from the drin river to the vicinity of elbasan, it constitutes an area about twenty miles wide. it narrows to practically nothing in the vicinity of elbasan, then widens into a broader triangular shape with its base against the southern mountains. earth shifting along the faultline that roughly defines the western edge of the central uplands causes frequent and occasionally severe earthquakes. major damage occurred over wide areas in 1967 and 1969. softer rocks predominate in the uplands. the most extensive are flysch, a soft crumbly rock that is usually sandstone but frequently contains shales, sandy limestones, and marl. this type of formation erodes rapidly and is the basis of much of the poor alluvial lowland soil. the ridges of the uplands are extensions of the dalmatian coastal range that enters albania from yugoslavia. elevations are generally moderate, between 1,000 and 3,000 feet with a few reaching above 5,000 feet. serpentine zone although there are rugged terrain and high points in the central uplands, the first major mountain range inland from the adriatic is an area of predominantly serpentine rock. the serpentine zone extends nearly the length of the country, from the north albanian alps to the greek border south of korce, an area 10 to 20 miles wide and over 125 miles in length lying generally between the central uplands and the eastern highlands. at elbasan, however, it makes nearly direct contact with the coastal plain, and it reaches the eastern border for nearly 50 miles in, and north of, the lake region. within its zone there are many areas in which sharp limestone and sandstone outcroppings predominate over the serpentine, although the ranges as a whole are characterized by rounded mountain features. the serpentine rock derives its name from its dull green color and often mottled or spotted appearance. it can occur in several states. iron, nickel, or other metals can substitute in its chemical formula for the more prevalent magnesium and will cause color variations. eastern highlands the mountains east of the serpentine zone are the highest in the country and are the basis for part of the eastern boundary. they occupy a narrow strip south of lakes ohrid and prespa, and a similar one, also running north and south, lies between the white drin river and the yugoslav city of debar. a peak in the korab range, on the border north of debar, exceeds 9,000 feet. the ranges have north-south trend lines. geologically young and composed largely of hard limestone rocks, the eastern highlands, together with the north albanian alps and the serpentine zone, are the most rugged and inaccessible of any terrain on the balkan peninsula. lake region the three lakes of easternmost albania are part of the macedonian lake district. the yugoslav border passes through lake ohrid; all but a small tip of little lake prespa is in greece; and the point at which the boundaries of all three states meet is in lake prespa. the two larger lakes have areas of about 100 square miles each, and little lake prespa is about one-fifth as large. these are total surface areas, including the portions on both sides of the national boundary lines. the surface elevation is about 2,285 feet for lake ohrid and about 2,800 feet for the other two. the lakes are remote and picturesque. lake ohrid is fed primarily from underground springs and is blue and very clear. at times its transparency can approach 70 feet. a good percentage of the terrain in the vicinity of the lakes is not overly steep, and it supports a larger population than any other inland portion of the country. national boundaries the distinct ethnic character of the people and their isolation within a fairly restricted and definable area brought support for their demands for independence in the early twentieth century. there were places where different ethnic populations intermingled, and there were other pressures that affected the definition of the borders. the kosovo area across the northeastern border is a part of modern yugoslavia, but it contains a substantial albanian population. there are greeks and albanians in the mountains on both sides of the southeastern boundary. albania is not content with the kosovo situation, and neither greece nor albania is satisfied with the division effected by their mutual border. the country is the smallest in eastern europe and has a perimeter of only 750 miles. the border shared with yugoslavia runs northward from lake prespa, around northern albania, to the adriatic sea for a total of just under 300 miles. forty miles of this border follows river courses, and an almost equal distance is within lakes. the greek border from the common point in lake prespa southwest to the ionian sea is about 160 miles long. twelve miles of this border are within lakes but, because it crosses the trend lines of the southern mountain ranges, only four miles are along rivers. the adriatic and ionian coastline is just under 300 miles long. the lowlands of the west face the adriatic sea and the strait of otranto, which is a mere 47 miles from the heel of the italian boot. the albanian riviera, the coastline that runs southeast from vlore, is on the ionian sea. with the exception of the coastline, all albanian borders are artificial. they were established in principle at the 1913 conference of ambassadors in london. the country was occupied by the warring powers during world war i, but the 1913 boundaries were reaffirmed at versailles in 1921. finally demarcated in 1923, they were confirmed by the paris agreement of 1926 and were essentially unchanged in 1970. the original principle was to define the borders in accordance with the best interests of the albanian ethnic group and the nationalities in adjacent areas. the northern and eastern borders were intended, insofar as possible, to separate the albanians from the serbian and montenegrin peoples; the southeast border was to separate albanians and greeks; and the valuable western macedonia lake district was to be divided among the states whose populations shared the area. when there was no compromise involving other factors, borderlines were chosen to make the best possible separation of national groups, connecting the best marked physical features available. allowance was made for local economic situations, to keep from separating a village from its animals' grazing areas or from the markets for its produce. political pressures also were a factor in the negotiations, but the negotiations were subject to approval by powers having relatively remote interests, most of which involved the balance of power rather than economic ambitions. division of the lake district among three states required that each of them have a share of the lowlands in the vicinity. such a distribution was artificial but, once made, necessarily influenced the borderlines to the north and south. the border that runs generally north from the lakes, although it follows the ridges of the eastern highlands, stays some ten to twenty miles west of the watershed divide. proceeding counterclockwise around northern albania, the watershed divide was abandoned altogether along the northeast boundary. in the process a large albanian population in kosovo was incorporated into yugoslavia. in the extreme north and the northeastern mountainous sections, the border with yugoslavia connects high points and follows mountain ridges through the north albanian alps where there is little movement of the people. there is no natural topographic dividing line from the highlands, through lake scutari, to the adriatic, but the lake and a portion of the buene river south of it were used. from the lake district south and southwest to the ionian sea, the boundary runs perpendicular to the terrain trend lines and crosses a number of ridges instead of following them. local administrative areas the twenty-six districts that are the primary administrative subdivisions of the country have evolved from divisions that have existed for many years or have developed over a period of time (see fig. 3). in the northern third of the country, district lines were based on the territory occupied by tribal groups. in the part of the country south from about tirana, they were based on the large landholdings controlled by those who in earlier years had governed the areas for the ottomans. upon independence most of the old local boundaries, long understood if not always precisely defined, were retained, and the areas became prefectures. before world war ii there were ten prefectures, which in turn were divided into about forty subprefectures. the communist regime did not abandon the prefectures immediately but eventually replaced them with districts that were, generally, based on the old subprefectures. in a series of changes, the latest of which were made in december 1967, the districts were consolidated into the twenty-six that existed in 1970. the districts are much the same size. sixteen of them have areas ranging between 300 and 600 square miles. the largest, shkoder, has about 980 square miles; the smallest, lezhe, has about 180. changes in the areas and boundaries of the districts made during the 1960s were based chiefly on economic considerations, although political and security considerations also played a part. a major factor has been the collectivization of agriculture. in 1968 and 1969, for example, when the government decided to enlarge the collective farms, district lines were shifted in order to keep all of the land in a collective within the same district (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). [illustration: source: adapted from _vjetari statistikor i r. p. sh., 1967-1968_, tirana, 1968, frontispiece. _figure 3. administrative districts in albania_] although there are natural barriers to almost all movement in the country, there are few, if any, that contribute to the boundaries of the districts. eight districts border on the seashore, but only three of them have more lowland than mountainous terrain. the shkoder district, for example, has all of the lowlands in the vicinity of the city and almost half of the most mountainous portion of the north albanian alps. in a few instances the borders of interior districts follow the river valleys, but it is more usual for them to contain segments of the rivers and, when this is the case, their boundary lines stay in the higher regions. climate with its coastline oriented westward onto the adriatic and ionian seas, its highlands backed upon the elevated balkan landmass, and the entire country lying at a latitude that receives different patterns of weather systems during the winter and summer seasons, albania has a number of climatic regions highly unusual for so small an area. the coastal lowlands have typically mediterranean weather; the highlands have a so-called mediterranean continental climate. both the lowland and interior weather change markedly from north to south. the lowlands have mild winters, averaging about 45â°f. summer temperatures average 75â°f., humidity is high, and the season tends to be oppressively uncomfortable. the southern lowlands are warmer, averaging about five degrees higher throughout the year. the difference is greater than five degrees during the summer and somewhat less during the winter. inland temperatures vary more widely with differences in elevation than with latitude or any other factor. cold winter temperatures in the mountains result from the continental air masses that predominate over eastern europe and the balkans. northerly and northeasterly winds blow much of the time. average summer temperatures are lower than in the coastal areas and much lower at high elevations, but daily fluctuations are greater. daytime maximum temperatures in the interior basins and river valleys are very high, but the nights are almost always cool (see table 1). the average precipitation over the country is high resulting from the convergence of the prevailing airflow from the mediterranean with the continental air mass. they usually meet at the point where the terrain rises. arriving at that line, the mediterranean air meets increasing ground elevations that force it to rise and an air mass that tends to resist its further progress. this causes the heaviest rainfall in the central uplands. vertical currents initiated when the mediterranean air is uplifted also result in frequent thunderstorms. many of them in this area are violent and are accompanied by high local winds and torrential downpours. _table 1. temperature and precipitation averages for selected locations in albania_ average temperatures* annual elevation coldest warmest precipitation place location (in feet) annual month month (in inches) shkoder northern coastal lowlands 50 59 40 78 80 durres central coastal lowlands sea level 61 47 77 38 vlore southern coastal lowlands do 62 48 77 39 sarande albanian riviera do 63 ... ... 55 tirana mid-albania at base of central uplands 360 58 42 76 49 puke north-central uplands 2,850 51 34 70 72 kruje central uplands 2,000 55 39 71 67 korce eastern highlands 2,850 51 ... ... 30 *in degrees fahrenheit. source: adapted from _vjetari statistikor i r. p. sh., 1967-1968_. tirana, 1968, pp. 18-19; and great britain, admiralty, naval intelligence division, _albania_, london, 1945, p. 93. when the continental system is weak, mediterranean winds drop their moisture farther inland. when there is a dominant continental air mass, it spills cold air onto the lowland areas. this occurs most frequently in the winter season. since the season's lower temperatures damage olive trees and citrus fruits, their groves and orchards are restricted to sheltered places with southern and western exposures, even in areas that have seemingly high average winter temperatures. lowland rainfall averages from forty to nearly sixty inches annually, increasing between those extremes from south to north. nearly 95 percent of the rain falls during the rainy season. rainfall in the upland mountain ranges is higher. adequate records are not available, and estimates vary widely, but annual averages are probably about 70 inches and are as high as 100 inches in some northern areas. the seasonal variation is not quite as great as in the coastal area, with the most nearly even distribution in the north, largely because of summer thunderstorms. the higher inland mountains receive less precipitation than the intermediate uplands. terrain differences cause wide local variations, but the seasonal distribution is the most consistent of any area. in the northern mountains, for example, the months that usually have the highest averages are november and june. drainage all but a very small portion of the precipitation drains through the rivers to the coastline without leaving the country. with the exception of a few insignificant trickles, only one small stream in the northern part of the country escapes albania. in the south an even smaller rivulet drains into greece. as the divide is on the eastern side of the borders with yugoslavia and greece, however, a considerable amount of water from those countries drains through albania. a quite extensive portion of the white drin river basin is in the kosovo area across the northeastern yugoslav border. the three lakes shared with yugoslavia and greece, as well as all the streams that flow into them, drain into the drin river. the watershed divide in the south also dips nearly forty miles into greece at one point. several tributaries of the vijose river rise in that area (see fig. 4). [illustration: _figure 4. rivers and lakes in albania_] with the exception of the drin river, which flows northward and drains nearly the entire eastern border region before it turns westward to the sea, most of the rivers in the northern and central parts of the country flow much more directly westward to the sea. in the process they cut through the ridges rather than flowing around them. this apparent impossibility came about because the highlands were originally lifted without much folding. the streams came into existence at that time and antedate the ridges because the compression and folding of the plateau occurred later. the folding process was rapid enough in many instances to block the rivers temporarily, forming lakes that existed until the downstream channel was cut sufficiently to drain them. this sequence created the many interior basins that are typically a part of the landforms. during the lifetimes of the temporary lakes enough sediment was deposited in them to form the basis for fertile soils. folding was only infrequently rapid enough to force the streams to radically different channels. the precipitous fall from higher elevations and the highly irregular seasonal flow patterns that are characteristic of nearly all streams in the country reduce the immediate value of the streams. they erode the mountains and deposit the sediment that created, and continues to add to, the lowlands, but the rivers flood during the seasons when there is local rainfall. when the lands are parched and need irrigation, the rivers are usually dry. their violence makes them difficult to control, and they are unnavigable. the buene is an exception. it is dredged between shkoder and the adriatic and is navigable for small ships. in contrast to their histories of holding fast to their courses in the mountains, the rivers have constantly changed channels on the lower plains, making wastes of much of the land they have created. the drin river is the largest and most constant stream (see table 2). fed by melting snows from the northern and eastern mountains and by the more evenly distributed seasonal precipitation of that area, its flow does not have the extreme variations characteristic of nearly all other rivers in the country. its normal flow varies seasonally by only about one-third. along its length of about 175 miles it drains nearly 2,300 square miles within albania. as it also collects from the adriatic portion of the kosovo watershed and the three border lakes (lake prespa drains to lake ohrid via an underground stream), its total basin is around 6,000 square miles. the seman and vijose are the only other rivers that are more than 100 miles in length and have basins larger than 1,000 square miles. these rivers drain the southern regions and, reflecting the seasonal distribution of rainfall, are torrents in winter and nearly dry in the summer, in spite of their relatively long lengths. this is also the case with the many shorter streams. in the summer most of them carry less than a tenth of their winter averages, if they are not altogether dry. _table 2. drainage basins in albania_ drainage basin length of river area of basin (in miles) (in square miles) drin 174 2,263* seman 157 2,305 vijose 147 1,682 shkumbin 91 918 mat 65 964 erzen 56 301 ishm 43 244 buene** 27 623 * within albania only. ** includes lake scutari. source: adapted from athanas gegaj and rexhep krasniqi, _albania_, new york, 1964, p. 8. the sediment carried by the mountain torrents continues to be deposited but, having created the lowlands, new deposits delay their exploitation. stream channels rise as silt is deposited in them and eventually become higher than the surrounding terrain. changing channels frustrate development in many areas. old channels become barriers to proper drainage and create swamps or marshlands. it has been difficult to build roads or railroads across the lowlands or to use the land. irrigation has been accomplished ingeniously by albanian peasants for many years, to the degree that they and their expertise have been sought after throughout europe. projects required to irrigate or to reclaim large areas of the lowlands, however, are on a scale that probably cannot be accomplished without financial assistance from outside the country. although water is available in quantities adequate for irrigation and it has the amount of fall necessary for hydroelectric power production, terrain and seasonal factors are such that major capital investment would be required for both irrigation and power projects. snow stabilizes drainage of the higher northern and eastern mountains but, unfortunately, the only major snow accumulations are in the drin basin, influencing only the one river system. natural resources soils soil resources are small. arable land figures notwithstanding, good agricultural land amounts to only about 5 percent of the country's area. soils over limestone are thin or altogether lacking. serpentine rock erodes slowly and produces clays of little agricultural value. the softer rocks of the intermediate mountains crumble easily into course and infertile sands and gravels that take many years to acquire humus. the alluvial soil of the lowland plains, therefore, tends to be sterile in addition to receiving its precipitation seasonally and being poorly drained. there is little land along the narrow valley floors. the best soils, those within the inland basins, are excellent. the narrow margin of slightly elevated land between the coastal plains and the mountains also provides excellent arable fields. vegetation western sources have estimated that, in 1969, 11 percent of the land area was arable, of which nearly one-half was in use as vineyards and olive groves. forests covered just over one-third of the land, and pastures just under one-third. about 22 percent of the land was unproductive, but one-half of the unproductive areas had a potential for development. albanian government pronouncements have stated that about 20 percent of the land was arable in 1968 and that this figure would be increased to 22 percent in 1970. the discrepancies in land use statistics arise from varying interpretations as to the amount of pastureland that is arable. much that albanian sources have claimed as newly arable almost certainly is marginally so. dependence upon corn as the primary staple crop in much of the country and limited amounts of arable land tended, until about 1950, to prevent proper crop rotation. the government is attempting to introduce more scientific agricultural practices and has claimed improved crop yields. although the amount of land that can be cultivated for the production of foodstuffs is meager, the remoteness of the interior has allowed natural flora to exist over fairly extensive areas with little disturbance. a large variety of species flourishes, and an unusual number of them are found in that vicinity only. of some 2,300 seed-bearing plants, over 300 appear in the balkans alone, and more than 50 occur only in albania. the land considered forest includes areas that contain little more than scrub ground cover and others that have been ravaged by unsystematic cutting. more than half of the forests, however, contain mature trees and, owing largely to their inaccessibility, have escaped the reckless harvesting that destroyed many lower elevation forests during the first years of the country's independence. maquis, a mediterranean scrub tree, grows to about fifteen or twenty feet, can be extremely dense, and is the most frequent ground cover at low elevations. it withstands dry weather and, although it is of little value as a tree and does not of itself build a rich soil, it stabilizes the alluvial lowlands and provides cover for better humus-producing vegetation. maquis can survive at slightly higher elevations in sheltered conditions, but it is usually found below 1,000 or 1,300 feet. most maquis species are evergreen. deciduous scrub, usually christ's-thorn, or _shiblijak_, is also common in the lowlands, but it occurs much less frequently than maquis. the oaks are the most important of trees. oak forests have never reattained the majesty they had during the days of venice's power when they could be called upon to furnish 400 shiploads of straight oak stems for venetian fleets, but in 1970 they still constituted nearly half of all forests. the oaks are valuable not only for their economic worth as fuel and lumber but also because the leaves of deciduous varieties and the undergrowth encouraged beneath them are excellent soil builders. occurring at moderate elevations, however, they have been accessible and overexploited. lowland oak forests contain poorer species that rarely grow in excess of thirty feet tall, but the thick undergrowth they usually allow provides stability and improves the alluvial soil. the finer and more valuable species occur at middle and higher elevations. oak forests predominate between 1,000and 3,000-foot elevations but occur up to about 4,000 feet. beech trees appear at all elevations between 3,000 feet and the timberline. they predominate in northern areas between about 3,500 and 6,000 feet. in the south they flourish at the same elevations but are usually outnumbered by conifers. beech is excellent hard wood, and its leaves are among the best of soil builders. the trees generate most of the humus themselves, as their canopies interlace tightly in mature forests, permitting relatively little undergrowth to flourish on the forest floors beneath them. mature forests have survived in many of the remote, inaccessible areas that beech species prefer. the most copious forests are in cloud forest regions where cloud cover is almost constant, rainfall is frequent, and temperatures do not usually reach the extreme highs. the better conifers, usually including several pine species in the north and fir, with lesser numbers of pine and spruce, in the south, coexist with beech but tolerate poorer soils and tend to predominate at the highest elevations. although they tend to have less continuous canopies than beech forests, they do not encourage undergrowth. their needles, along with rapid decay of their softer dead wood, however, can create deep humus. the poorer quality lowland pines do well at elevations down to sea level and will tolerate certain conditions, although not overly poor drainage, in which the oak will not survive. its woods usually have discontinuous canopies and allow dense maquis and other lower shrubs to flourish beneath them. true mixed woods, sometimes referred to as karst woods, occur at medium elevations. they are usually almost entirely deciduous but have wide varieties of species. the larger trees include maple, ash, beech, and oak, but these are vastly outnumbered. intermediate varieties of hawthorne, dogwood, hazel, and cherry flourish among the larger trees, and hundreds of smaller plants, ranging from bushes, shrubs, and ferns to grasses and moss, provide ground cover. with a profusion of varieties in constant competition for available space and soil, those that do best in a particular soil mixture prosper in a given locality. because the soil in the uplands relates closely to the base rock and the mountains were created by geologically recent folding that has exposed the edges of layered rock formations, there are abrupt changes in the basic surface rock. this is reflected immediately in mixed woods by equally abrupt changes in the species that appear. of the more abundant smaller flora families, the daisy, pea, grass, pink, nettle, mustard, parsley, figwort, rose, buttercup, and lily groups has more than fifty species that can be found within albania. flowering plants flourish especially well in limestone areas where there are masses of vividly colored wild flowers during the springtime. must less brilliant colors appear on serpentine outcroppings and, as is the case with the mixed woods, the difference is abrupt where limestone and serpentine are the surface rocks in closely adjacent areas. wildlife summer livestock grazing in the mountains and uncontrolled hunting reduced wildlife to insignificance. some deer, wild boar, and wolves remain in the more remote forests. chamois were plentiful in the area but are now extremely rare. wild fowl, however, are abundant in the lowland swamps and lower forests. minerals exploitation of the country's minerals generates the largest share of the gross industrial product and provides employment for the largest number of the industrial labor force. this does not indicate, however, that the country is rich in mineral resources, but it serves to underscore the still poorer state of its agricultural and industrial sectors and indicates that the country engages in relatively little international commerce. there are considerable reserves in oil and natural gas. oil can be extracted in quantity sufficient to meet domestic demands and to export. a pipeline from the oilfields at stalin (formerly kucove) transmits the oil to the port of vlore. the crude oil, however, has a high sulfur content and is expensive to refine. chrome is the most important export commodity. albania is the largest chrome source in eastern europe, and its mines have at times supplied about 2 percent of the world's total. good-quality copper ore is also available in export quantities. no hard coal veins are known, but lignite is plentiful and its deposits are accessible. asphalt (bitumen) occurs in a concentrated deposit in one small area. this source has been actively worked for centuries. some of it has been exported. iron, nickel, gold, and silver ores occur in less important deposits. iron is plentiful, but the ores are of low grade. the other deposits are minor. bauxite appears in quantity deposits in several areas. sufficient year-round power sources, however, are not available to process it. magnesite, arsenic, pyrites, and gypsum sources are worked. clay and kaolin suitable for pottery are also extracted. salt is abundant. limestone is available throughout the country and quarried wherever it is needed. transportation even when its territory sat astride a direct route between two points, albania was usually bypassed because there was nearly always a longer way around that was easier and safer. as a result, its transportation links with the rest of the world are very few. its internal systems are also inadequate for good communications within the country. all railways are short, internal routes, and the lines that were complete in 1970 connected only three of the major cities. two primary roads, one of which was originally constructed by the romans, cross into greece, and a third crosses into yugoslavia. only a dozen more roads, all of them secondary, lead out of the country. there is little air traffic with the outside world; it usually involves connecting flights to major airlines in neighboring countries (see fig. 1). roads until the twentieth century only two major roads crossed what is now albania. the romans built the via egnatia, which makes an east-west transit from durres (known as dyrrhachium in roman times), via the shkumbin river valley, to the lake district. it continued eastward across the balkan peninsula to thessaloniki and constantinople (now istanbul), and the romans used it to move forces overland to the eastern portions of their empire. a north-south route, the via zenta, was built by ragusan merchants during the period when ragusa (now dubrovnik) was a balkan mercantile power and needed access to the interior of the peninsula. the road followed the drin river valley. both the via egnatia and the via zenta fell into disuse during the centuries of ottoman control, but the basic course of the roman road is followed by one of the few major highways that has been constructed in the twentieth century. independent albania was slow to begin construction of roads that would better conform to the country's national requirements. during world war i austrian forces built some 400 miles of strategic roads while they occupied the area. the italians did the same during world war ii. in both cases the objective was to improve communications with external points. there was no attempt to construct a network that would integrate the country. the hoxha regime has placed more emphasis on internal communications, and in 1969 it claimed that the principal road network had been expanded by three times over what it had been in 1938. perhaps 3,000 miles could be classed as improved roads. these are considered all-weather roads, although those in the mountains may be closed by snows. most of the surfaces are hardened with compacted stone or gravel, and a few have a tarry stabilizer. better roads have asphalt surfaces. road construction in almost all parts of the country is difficult, especially in bridge building, and some roads are construction masterpieces. once built, however, routine maintenance has ordinarily not been properly accomplished, and surfaces have deteriorated. railways the first standard-gauge railroad construction began in 1947. the italians had started roadbeds during their world war ii occupation but had abandoned their projects in 1943. by 1970 there were only about 135 miles of completed lines. these included basic lines between durres and tirana and between durres and elbasan. there is difficult terrain between tirana and elbasan and, although only about 20 miles apart, they are connected via durres only. the lines from durres curve northward to tirana and southward to approach elbasan via the shkumbin valley. a northern offshoot from the durres-tirana line is complete to lac and will be extended to shkoder. a southern offshoot from rrogozhine on the durres-elbasan line is now in service to fier and will be extended to vlore. the combination of these two routes will constitute a coastal line from shkoder to vlore. construction was in progress in 1970 on a line that will connect elbasan with prrenjas, which is just over five miles from lake ohrid. this line follows the route of the old roman via egnatia, and in later programs it will probably be extended to lin, on the lake, and then southward to korce. when these lines are completed, they and the road network will provide vastly improved internal communications, but many small areas within the north albanian alps and the higher central and eastern mountains will remain difficult to reach. pipeline during the mid-1930s the italian state-owned petroleum company constructed a forty-four-mile, eight-inch pipeline to connect the oilfields in the stalin area with the port of vlore. the line had a capacity of about 5,000 barrels a day and carried crude for transshipment to refineries in italy. in the early 1950s the line was extended northward to the newly built refinery at cerrik. airlines in the early post-world war ii period when albania was practically a vassal state of yugoslavia, regular air traffic was established between belgrade and tirana. after the estrangement of yugoslavia from the soviet union, when albania became a satellite of the soviet union, regular traffic was set up between tirana and moscow and, to a lesser degree, between tirana and the capitals of the eastern european communist countries other than belgrade. when albania became aligned with communist china, direct connections with almost all external points were severed. even peking flights were routed via intermediate stops in italy, usually bari or rome. between 1967 and 1970 connections between albania and most of the eastern european countries, but not the soviet union, were gradually restored. service is scheduled but infrequent. weekly flights are typically connected through belgrade. traffic elsewhere is ordinarily routed via italy. albanian officials depart and reenter the country via bari or rome, connecting to tirana on a scheduled alitalia flight or by an albanian flight. internal air services are also limited. those available are centered on tirana. merchant shipping because no railway leaves the country and border-crossing roads are inadequate, nearly all foreign trade is carried by sea. durres and vlore are the major ports. durres has a first-class harbor, warehouses, petroleum storage tanks, a shipbuilding capability, and railway spurs to the docks. vlore is a better natural port and is the terminus of the oil pipeline. it has fewer port facilities than durres, however, and no rail connections with the rest of the country. sarande, shengjin, and porte palermo are less important ports. only the drin and buene rivers might be considered navigable to any degree and even then only for small ships and short distances. lake scutari and the interior lakes are navigable but are of little commercial use. smaller oceangoing craft are used in a limited amount of coastal trade. the government is encouraging the creation of a national merchant fleet. _lloyd's register of shipping_ for 1968 listed eleven albanian vessels totaling 36,550 gross tons. albania and communist china maintain a jointly owned shipping line, and the number of ships with albanian registry is increasing. chapter 4 the people the population increased by about 71 percent from 1950 to 1969 and in 1970 was increasing at a rate that would double the number of inhabitants in approximately twenty-six years. the median age, about nineteen years, was increasing slowly. the abundance of rural population and the increasing tempo of industrial development provided potential for rapid urban growth, but government controls and a scarcity of housing tended to restrict population movements. persons of albanian ethnic origin constituted about 97 percent of the 2.1 million population in early 1970. of ancient illyrian descent, they have maintained their homogeneity despite many invasions and centuries of foreign occupation. the communist regime, in its effort to develop social and cultural solidarity, attempted to reduce consciousness of the differences between the major subgroups, the gegs in the north and the tosks in the south. some progress has been made, but a continuing struggle is being carried out against customs and beliefs that are considered remnants of the past and detract from the achievement of communist objectives (see ch. 5, social system). the albanian language is a derivative of the tongues that were spoken by the ancient illyrians and thracians. for many centuries its continuity was maintained by only verbal means. a standardized alphabet was not developed until the twentieth century. since world war ii considerable progress has been made in making the tosk dialect the standard written language. in the late 1960s there were still some variations in spelling. the pattern of settlement was predominantly one of widely dispersed villages; approximately two-thirds of the people lived in communities with less than 1,000 population. only twelve cities had more than 10,000 population in 1969. the quadrangular area formed by the cities of durres, tirana, elbasan, and fier, all of which are linked by rail and roads, was experiencing the most rapid growth in the 1960s. there was a very slight improvement in living standards from 1950 to 1970. despite modest growth in the economy, the per capita gross national product (gnp) in 1967 was the lowest in europe, an estimated united states equivalent of $320. the average citizen's welfare in the allocation of resources for food, consumers' goods, and housing was sacrificed to the development of industry and the program to achieve eventual self-sufficiency in agriculture. reduction of disease and improved health were the most important gains countrywide. also, by 1970 electricity had been extended to over two-thirds of all villages. consistently high levels of population growth placed severe strains on available supplies of food, consumers' goods, housing, and services. population the total population in january 1970 was an increase of approximately 500,000 over the 1960 official census total of 1,626,315. the distribution by age groups in 1970 was: under fifteen years of age, 42 percent; fifteen to thirty-nine years, 37 percent; forty to sixty-four years, 16 percent; and sixty-five years and over, 5 percent. with almost 60 percent of its inhabitants under forty years of age and a median age of approximately nineteen years, the population was extremely youthful, and indications were that it would remain so into the 1970s. the proportion of persons in the dependent age groups, under fifteen and over sixty-four years, to the working age group, fifteen to sixty-four years, was 887 to 1,000. the overall ratio of males to females, 106 to 100, was the highest among the communist countries of east europe. the preponderance of men was greatest at ages below forty; in the age group above sixty-four there were only 77 men to 100 women. the higher ratio of men for the total population was attributed in part to the high infant mortality rate among female infants, caused by neglect and the deference accorded to male progeny. losses in world war ii, an estimated 28,800 persons, or 2.48 percent of the population, had little influence on the ratio of males to females and the population structure. in keeping with the traditional pattern of a highly dispersed population, the country remains predominantly rural. about two-thirds live in villages and in the countryside. urban population increased from about one-fifth to one-third of the total during the 1950-70 period and would have increased to a greater extent had the government not taken measures, beginning in the mid-1960s, to build up agriculture and to restrict city growth. during the drive to reduce the number of people involved in administration and to increase production forces in the mid-1960s, thousands of persons living in the city, including some from the bureaucracy and the party, were sent to the country. housing in the cities was greatly overcrowded, and the allocation of new dwellings built by state funds and controlled by the government provided further restrictions on city growth. indications were that the expansion of industry would continue to require urban growth but that the rate of growth would be controlled. the largest cities and their populations in 1967 were: tirana, 170,603; durres, 80,066; vlore, 57,745; korce, 53,563; and shkoder, 49,095. the birth rate declined only slightly from 1950 to 1970 and in 1968 was 35.5 per 1,000 population (see table 3). fertility continued at a high level, and there were no apparent influences that tended to reduce the prevailing rate of births. no information was published concerning the effects, if any, on the birth rate of women's employment outside the home, abortions, contraceptives, or other restraints on population growth. the expansion of medical services and improvement in the standard of health during the 1950s and 1960s resulted in a marked decline in the mortality rate, from 14 per 1,000 in 1950 to 8 per 1,000 in 1968. the age structure of the population, with a preponderance in the lower age brackets, provided the potential for a continuing low mortality rate. a concomitant of the reduced death rate was an increase in life expectancy. data from domestic sources indicated that the average life expectancy at birth increased from 53.5 years in 1950 to 66.1 years in 1965. because of the highly restrictive policies of the communist regime, migration into and out of the country had a negligible influence on the size and composition of the population. internal migration was controlled by requiring approval for persons to move from one location to another. specific data on the scale and character of population movements were not available. the pattern of sustained high birth rates and declining death rates resulted in high rates of natural increase. total population increased by 71 percent from 1950 to 1969, whereas the average increase for all other east european communist countries, excluding the soviet union, was 18 percent. the growth rate for 1970 was estimated at 2.7 percent. government and party leaders, voicing the need for greater numbers of people for the building of socialism, supported a continuing high level of population growth. they were undeterred, in the face of persistent shortages of food and the requirement for foreign assistance, in their encouragement of a sustained high birth rate and the payment of an allowance for each child. _table 3. albanian vital statistics for selected years, 1950-68 (per thousand population)_ year birth death natural increase 1950 38.5 14.0 24.5 1960 43.3 10.4 32.9 1968 35.5 8.0 27.5 source: adapted from u.s. department of commerce, office of technical services, joint publications research service (washington), "protection of mother and child health, the high expression of socialist humanism, realized by the party during the 25 years of people's power," by vera ngjela et al., in shendetesia popullore (people's health), tirana, 1969 (jprs: 50,302, _translations on eastern europe, political sociological, and military affairs_, nos. 204, 1970). ethnic groups persons of non-albanian ethnic origin--greeks, vlachs, bulgars, serbs, and gypsies--constitute only about 3 percent of the population. among the albanians, the natural dividing line between the gegs and the tosks is the shkumbin river, but there is some spillover on both sides. numerically, the gegs predominate, making up slightly over one-half of the albanians within the country (see ch. 2, historical setting). despite successive foreign invasions and centuries of occupation, a distinctive ethnic identity was preserved. mountains and the lack of communication routes provided isolation and opportunity to evade intruders. nevertheless, the imprints of foreign influences were considerable. additions and modifications to the language were made from the latin, greek, slavic, and turkish contacts. lacking an organized religion as part of their illyrian heritage, albanians embraced the muslim, orthodox, and roman catholic faiths brought to them by their conquerors (see ch. 5, social system). individual albanians distinguished themselves in the service of the roman and turkish empires and were noted for their ability as soldiers. it was not until the nineteenth century when they began to seek autonomy that their history was recorded in writing. kinship and tribal affiliations, a common spoken language, and folk customs served to provide continuity and common identity through the many centuries of relative obscurity. there are marked differences in the physical appearance of the typical geg and the typical tosk, but until world war ii the greatest contrast was in their social systems. the geg and tosk dialects differ, and there are also variations within subgroups. some progress was made under the zog regime in bringing the clans, whose authority prevailed particularly in the north, under government control and in eliminating blood feuds (see ch. 5, social system). after the communists emerged victorious they imposed controls, the objective of which was to eliminate clan rule entirely; they waged a continuing struggle against customs and attitudes that, they believed, detracted from the growth of socialism. blood feuds were brought to an end. party and government leaders, in their effort to develop national social and cultural solidarity in a communist society, publicly tended to ignore ethnic differences. in practice, enver hoxha, the party leader, who came from the south and received the bulk of his support during world war ii from that area, frequently gave preference to persons and customs of tosk origin. in the late 1960s party and government leaders continued to devote considerable effort to the suppression of customs and rituals that, they declared, were vestiges of the patriarchal, bourgeois, and religious systems of the past. on one occasion in 1968 the party announced that because of its influence 450 infant betrothals were annulled and 1,000 girls renounced ancient customs, including the taboo against females leaving their village (see ch. 5, social system). the gegs, because of their greater isolation in the mountainous areas of the north, held on to their tribal organization and customs more tenaciously than the tosks. as late as the 1920s approximately 20 percent of male deaths in some areas of northern albania were attributed to blood feuds. under the unwritten tribal codes, which included the regulation of feuds, any blow, as well as many offenses committed against women, called for blood. permitting a girl who had been betrothed in infancy to marry another, for example, could cause a blood feud. the _besa_ (pledge to keep one's word as a solemn obligation) was used under various conditions and included pledges to postpone quarrels. a person who killed a fellow tribesman was commonly punished by his neighbors, who customarily burned his house and destroyed his property. as fugitives from their own communities, such persons were given assistance wherever they applied. a man who failed to carry out prescribed vengeance against a member of another tribe or that individual's relatives was subjected to intolerable ridicule. insult was considered one of the highest forms of dishonor, and the upholding of one's honor was a first requirement for a geg. on the other hand, if the individual carried out the required act of vengeance, he was in turn subject to extinction by the victim's relatives. women were excluded from the feud and, when escorted by a male, he too was considered inviolable. in other respects, women's position in society generally was one of deprivation and subjugation (see ch. 5, social system). the isolation from influences beyond his community and the constant struggle with nature tended to make the geg an ascetic. traditionally, his closest bonds were those of kinship, as a member of a clan. obstinate and proud, the geg proved himself, under the leadership of his compatriots, a ruthless and cruel fighter. visitors from outside the clan were generally suspect, but every traveler was by custom accorded hospitality. less isolated by rugged terrain and with greater, although limited, contact with foreign cultures, the tosk generally was more outspoken and imaginative than the geg. contacts with invaders and foreign occupiers had influence and, before 1939, some tosks had traveled to foreign countries to earn sufficient funds to buy land or to obtain an education. the clan or tribal system, which by the nineteenth century was far less deeply rooted and extensive in the south than in the north, began to disappear after independence was achieved in 1912. of the minority ethnic groups, persons of greek descent are the most numerous. estimates based on world war ii and earlier data indicate that they compose approximately 2 percent of the population. they are most numerous in the southwestern coastal area of dhermi and himare and the region extending southward to the greek border from gjirokaster. they have adopted albanian folkways and dress. although their first language is greek, they speak albanian as well. persons of vlach, bulgar, serb, and gypsy origin make up about 1 percent of the population. the vlachs in albania have lost much of their homogeneity and adopted the ways of their tosk neighbors. the typical vlach is akin to the modern romanian. both are descendants of romanized dacians or thracians of the pre-christian era. under communist rule the vlachs, mostly herdsmen, have been incorporated into the collectivized economy. previously, they grazed their flocks in the mountains in the summer and then returned to the valleys in the winter. they are most numerous in the pindus mountains and in the fier, korce, and vlore areas. persons of bulgar origin live mostly in the border area near lake prespa; a few persons of serb derivation live in the shkoder area; and gypsies are scattered in various places. there are large numbers of persons of albanian origin living outside the country. estimates based on yugoslav data indicated the total number in yugoslavia in 1970 was approximately 1 million, of which about 70 percent were in kosovo. data is generally lacking on the exact number in other areas, and estimates vary widely. there may be as many as 250,000 in italy and sicily, 350,000 in greece, and 80,000 in the united states. they are found also in bulgaria, egypt, romania, and turkey. the degree to which persons living outside the country have retained albanian customs and language varies. indications are that they have retained their clannishness to a considerable degree. languages albanian, of indo-european origin, is the only surviving language of the early thraco-illyrian group and is spoken by all or nearly all inhabitants. some of the minority ethnic groups also speak the tongue of the country from which their families originated. modern albanian is derived from the ancient illyrian and thracian, but many outside influences are evident. additions and modifications, beginning in the pre-christian era, were made as a result of foreign contacts. most important of these were the latin and italian influences during the centuries of roman domination and trade with the venetian merchants and, later, in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. contributions also were made by the greeks, turks, and slavs. the first written documents in albanian did not appear until the fifteenth century; therefore it is difficult to trace the development of the language during the earlier period. the repressive policies of the ottoman rulers over a period of 450 years, beginning in the fifteenth century, further retarded language development. written albanian was forbidden, and only the turkish or greek languages could be used in schools. emigrã© albanians, particularly those in italy after 1848, helped keep the written language alive. until the nineteenth century continuity of the language in turkish-dominated areas was provided largely by verbal communication, including ballads and folk tales (see ch. 7, communications and cultural development). by the early twentieth century more than a dozen different alphabets had developed. some were predominantly either latin, greek, or turko-arabic. many were a mixture of several forms. it was not until 1908 that a standardized orthography was adopted. the latin-based alphabet of thirty-six letters, approved at that time by a linguistic congress at monastir, was made official by a government directive in 1924 and continued in use in 1970. letters are written as they are pronounced. there have been variations in the spelling of many words because of dialectical differences, and they still persist despite the government's efforts to develop a uniform language. a dictionary was published by the institute of sciences in tirana in 1954, and it indicated that the spelling of some words varied. during the 1960s the linguistics and history institute, which was part of the state university of tirana, carried on studies relating to language origins and morphology, but no lexicon was known to have appeared as of early 1970 to standardize spelling or supersede the 1954 dictionary. the two principal albanian dialects are geg, spoken by about two-thirds of the people, including those in the kosovo region of yugoslavia, and tosk, by the remaining third. there are subvarieties of both dialects. despite the considerable variations that developed in the many isolated communities, albanians are able to communicate easily with each other. efforts were made by the government during the 1920s and 1930s to establish the dialect of the elbasan area, which was a mixture of geg and tosk, as the standard and official language; but the local dialects persisted, and writers and even officials continued to use the dialect of their association. after the communists, most of whose leaders had come from southern albania, acceded to power, the tosk dialect became the official language of the country. in 1952 the albanian writers' union, a party-controlled organization, took action to make tosk the only dialect to be used in publications. settlement patterns some two-thirds of the people live in rural areas in a widely dispersed pattern of small villages. the urban population, according to 1969 data, lived in forty cities with 1,000 to 10,000 inhabitants and twelve cities with over 10,000 dwellers; of the latter group, six had 10,000 to 30,000 inhabitants; two had 30,000 to 50,000; three had 50,000 to 100,000; and one, tirana, was approaching 200,000. the heaviest concentrations of settlement in the late 1960s were in the districts of tirana with a density of 528 persons per square mile, durres with 469, fier with 323, and lushnje with 298. the area surrounding korce and the area immediately around, and to the south of, shkoder were among the most thickly settled even though the administrative districts of korce and shkoder were not heavily populated when considered in their entirety (see ch. 3, physical environment). several factors contributed to the pattern of settlement. large expanses of mountains and generally rugged terrain made the building of land transportation routes difficult. poor soil and lack of water during part of the year did not provide support to large concentrations of people. mineral and other resources were generally not readily accessible or were difficult to exploit (see ch. 3, physical environment). coastal cities generally have a small hinterland, and their influence does not extend beyond their borders. the port of durres, with road and rail links to tirana, elbasan, and fier, is an exception. during the 1960s the area generally bounded by these cities experienced the greatest growth of industry and population of any region. vlore, a port and naval center, increased almost fourfold between 1945 and 1967, but it lacks links with inland areas. tirana, the capital and largest city, increased from about 60,000 inhabitants in 1945 to 170,000 in 1967, largely because of the expansion of industry and a growing bureaucracy. it is located on the inner margin of the coastal plain and is surrounded by an area of the better soils of albania. the streets in the central area of the city, where government buildings are clustered, are wide and attractive; many parts of the city are much like the rural villages. tirana has become the most industrialized city and continues to be a collecting and distributing point for agricultural products of the area. centers for inland mountain valley or upland basin communities are berat, elbasan, and korce. they, like most cities, have changed little in appearance and retain much of the flavor of nineteenth-century agricultural life. the typical mountain village, of 70 to 100 homesteads, is located on an isolated slope among rocks and thin scrub-like vegetation. only footpaths link it by land with the outside world. during the summer there is a drought period which requires that water use be limited to drinking. houses are clustered in the south, whereas in the northern mountains they tend to be dispersed. fields and pastures are located some distance from the village. water must be carried from a common source, usually a spring. mountain villages frequently are located at 1,300 to 1,600 feet above sea level. this is generally the line of contact between the underlying impervious serpentine rock and layer of limestone and the point where spring water comes to the surface. at lower levels the villages are laid out around the collective or state farms or enterprises, many of which were previously estates or patriarchal settlements. here the houses are more substantial, and the fields or other place of work are near the village. water is carried from a common source. open sewers run down the streets of some villages, but this condition is gradually changing. electric power has been extended to about 70 percent of all villages, but other facilities and amenities, except medical services, have been little improved since the end of world war ii. living conditions the standard of living in 1970 was very low, and life was difficult for the masses despite very modest improvements in living conditions during the 1950s and 1960s. the standard of living was the lowest in europe and was improving at a slow pace because priority was given to industry, to increasing the means of production, and to developing eventual self-sufficiency in food production, especially of cereal foods. the most widely felt improvements were in health services and in use of electricity, which resulted from expanding the electrical network to many villages. plans for the late 1960s and 1970 called for 23 to 25 percent of the state budget to be spent on social and cultural sectors. in 1967, when total planned budget spending was 3.6 billion leks (5 leks equal us$1--see glossary), the sum for social and cultural sectors was 837 million leks, of which 189 million were for health, 167 million for social insurance, 143 million for assistance to mothers and children, and 338 million for education and culture. the government maintained that it was improving living conditions by increasing food supplies and commodities and by construction of public facilities and structures. in february 1970 the chairman of the state planning commission reported that 1,200 dining rooms, 1,140 bakeries, 1,850 public baths and laundries, and 187 water mains had been built and that electricity had been supplied to 1,096 additional villages in 1968 and 1969, leaving only 663 without electricity. although these additions added to the amenities of life, the rapid growth of population caused heavy strain on the very limited total resources available. medical authorities asserted that many diseases and afflictions that had taken heavy tolls of life and tended to debilitate large segments of the population before 1950 had been greatly reduced or eliminated. these successes were primarily attributable to large-scale inoculation programs, elimination or reduction in the number of disease-spreading pests, and expansion of health services. malnutrition, unsatisfactory sanitary-hygienic conditions, and indifference to medical aid in some areas posed problems for further improvements. the communist regime, posing as the protector of the masses, credited itself with a revolutionary transformation in the health standards of the country. data on health and disease from other than albanian sources were not available. statistics released by the ministry of health indicated substantial improvements during the 1960s. responsibility for shortcomings and inadequacies relating to health care was attributed to backwardness on the part of the people or to the lack of resources. failures on the part of the party or government were not mentioned. there were widespread epidemics of measles in 1948 and 1949 and 1954 and 1955, of asiatic influenza in 1957, of typhoid in 1945 and 1950, and of poliomyelitis in 1953. health officials stated that there were no epidemics during the 1960s. malaria was one of the most prevalent diseases before 1950. health authorities, assisted by the rockefeller foundation beginning in the 1920s, made considerable progress in eliminating mosquitoes and reducing the incidence of malaria before world war ii. the campaign was continued by the italians during their occupation. the ravages of war greatly increased the spread of malaria from 1945 to 1947; according to communist reports, 60 to 70 percent of the population were afflicted in those years, in comparison with 16.5 percent in 1938. the united nations relief and rehabilitation administration provided food, medicine, and antimalarial assistance in 1945 and 1946, and the communist regime followed up with a concerted effort against the disease, which reduced the percentage of persons afflicted to approximately 7 percent in the early 1950s. health officials declared in 1970 that malaria had been eradicated by 1967, and no cases had been recorded after that date. health authorities reported that measles had been eliminated by 1970 through a program of mass vaccinations. the last major epidemic, that of 1954-55, afflicted almost 14 percent of the population. the incidence among children under three years of age was 60 percent, and 1,712 children under age fifteen died. a broad program against tuberculosis was begun in the 1960s that included general prophylactic measures and vaccine injections. health officials planned completion of vaccinations countrywide in 1970. it was estimated that almost 15 percent of the population had tuberculosis in the mid-1950s. officials reported that the incidence of this disease had dropped to less than 0.2 percent in 1968. the health ministry reported progress in combating many other diseases. syphilis, once prevalent, was eliminated. a broad program of serologic examinations involving over 2.3 million persons between 1947 and 1968 was utilized to detect venereal disease and was instrumental in reducing the rate of syphilis infection from 3.14 percent in 1949 to 0.02 percent in 1968. incidence rates per 1,000 population of other illnesses decreased from 1955 to 1968 as follows: abdominal typhoid, from 5.2 to 2.4; dysentery, from 87.7 to 14.5; diphtheria, from 2.3 to 0.5; poliomyelitis, from 0.4 to 0.1; brucellosis, from 2.4 to 0.8; and arthritis, from 2.2 to 0.8. trachoma was eliminated, and no cases of rabies were reported in the 1967-69 period. deaths per 100,000 population from contagious diseases, including influenza, decreased from 220 in 1950 to 43 in 1968. data on the number of deaths from heart ailments, cancer, and other causes were not published. although progress was made in reducing mortality among children up to one year of age--from 121.2 per 1,000 live births in 1950 to 75.2 in 1968--the rate remained unusually high. failure to obtain timely medical assistance was given as the primary cause of death by health authorities. malnutrition, shortages of professional medical personnel, and insufficient health facilities were also contributing factors. the rate for cities in 1968 was 65.4 as compared with 78.0 in rural areas. some areas in the mountains of the north ran as high as 136.9 during the 1963-67 period. about three-fourths of all infant deaths occurred during the first six months after birth. in 1960 only 34 percent of infant deaths were diagnosed; by 1967 the percentage had increased to 65. medical aid by a physician or midwife was provided for about 99 percent of births in cities; in rural areas approximately 61 percent of births were with medical assistance. there were indications that some segments of the population, those in remote and most poverty-stricken areas, were in poor health. a 1968-69 study of 1,580 children up to three years of age in thirteen northern localities, reported by the ministry of health, showed that 60 percent suffered from neuromuscular disorders in various degrees and that 47 percent suffered from rickets. the principal causes for these abnormalities, according to the official study, were malnutrition and unsatisfactory hygienic-sanitary conditions. health and medical organizations from national to local levels were under the ministry of health. in the 1960s the departments of the ministry were: epidemiology, pharmaceuticals, sanitary inspectorate, medical prophylactic institutions, personnel, administration, finance, and planning. data for 1968 reported by the minister of health listed facilities countrywide as: 196 hospitals and other facilities with beds; 11,922 beds for medical use; 1,108 first aid stations and polyclinics; and 36 dispensaries and tuberculosis centers. the average annual increase in hospital beds from 1950 to 1968 was 323; in 1968 there was 1 bed for every 169 inhabitants. the total number of persons employed in health and medicine increased from 9,881 in 1960 to 14,370 in 1967. the numbers of professional and semiskilled workers in 1969 were: physicians, 1,396; stomatologists (mouth specialists), 183; pharmacists, 262; medical aides, 725; dental assistants, 139; pharmacist assistants, 334; midwives, 1,091; nurses, 4,100; and laboratory technicians, 737. dentists were not listed as a separate category. the average number of inhabitants per doctor in the districts was approximately 2,000; however, in two districts the average was over 3,000, and in one, less than 1,000. all medical personnel were in government employ, and no private medical practice existed. the expansion of medical services after world war ii was made possible to a large extent by accelerated training programs. a school for training medical assistants was begun in 1948 and, starting in the early 1950s, the red cross conducted courses for semiskilled medical workers. a medical college for training professional personnel was established in 1952; in 1957 it became the faculty of medicine of the state university of tirana, and the first doctors were graduated that year. during the 1950s most physicians were trained in the soviet union. in the late 1960s the number of persons undergoing training as midwives was increased, and the goal was to have at least one midwife in every village by june 1971. the use of mobile medical teams and equipment played a major role in expanding and improving medical care in rural areas. laboratory, x-ray, and other services once available only in the largest cities were established in the district and sometimes at lower levels. the regime, in its effort to build up agriculture in the mid-1960s, set as an objective the improvement of living conditions in the countryside and the elimination of the differential between city and country. medical assistance to rural areas continued to increase in the late 1960s, but in late 1969 the minister of health stated that the differences between the center and the districts and between the cities and the villages were very pronounced. he directed that action be taken to lessen the gap but added that differences would continue to exist. nutrition food supply--perennially a problem because of poor soil, primitive methods of cultivation, and lack of readily accessible resources--did not keep pace with population growth. for the late 1960s calorie intake per capita per day probably did not exceed 2,100 to 2,200, while the estimate for the mid-1950s was 2,200 to 2,300. the diet lacked protein and other protective elements. an estimated 80 percent or more of food intake was carbohydrates. fruits and green vegetables were in short supply, and meats were a real scarcity. little progress had been made in increasing livestock herds during the period of communist rule, and credits to procure adequate supplies of protective foods from sources outside the country were not available (see ch. 8, economic system). the diet generally depicted scarcity and, in the mountain and rural areas, was simple and routine. dishes, high in starch content, made from corn, wheat, rice, and potatoes were basic. yogurt, cheese, and prepared dry beans were among the most commonly found other foods. green vegetables and fruits appeared seasonally in limited quantities. while some progress has been made in improving sources of drinking water, the vast majority of rural families, and some in the smaller cities, must rely on unprotected sources. central sewage systems are found in only the largest cities. housing living quarters became increasingly overcrowded as population expanded at consistently high rates. party first secretary enver hoxha stated in december 1967 that the entire country, especially urban areas, was experiencing a housing crisis. reports on housing construction indicated that the situation further deteriorated in the late 1960s because of the necessity to divert resources to even higher priorities, to the building of industry and procurement of food and clothing. war and natural catastrophes added to the burden. in world war ii some 35,000 dwellings were destroyed. earthquakes in november and december of 1967 demolished 3,500 homes. in april 1969, when 6,500 buildings were damaged or destroyed by earthquakes, additional thousands of homes had to be replaced or repaired. hoxha stated in late 1969 that 185,000 flats and houses had been built since world war ii. the average annual rate of construction, as indicated by incomplete reports for the 1960s, was 6,000 private dwellings and 3,000 state-owned and cooperative apartment units. total requirements were not stated, but with annual population growth at approximately 40,000 to 50,000 persons, and considering reports relating to crowded conditions, the critical condition was unresolved. hoxha stated in late 1967 that the housing situation had reached the point where in some instances five persons were living in one room. most rural houses are of one or two rooms, with a hearth, and are of simple construction. they are small and sparsely furnished. many are made of natural rock or stones. urban houses and apartments are usually small and lack central heating. kitchen and toilet facilities in apartments must be shared by three or four families. social insurance the social insurance program is administered by state organizations and covers medical care, compensation for incapacities, old-age pensions, family allowances, and rest and recreation. social insurance was introduced in 1947. several modifications were made later to the basic program. the law of 1953 provided a program closely resembling that of the soviet union, and for a number of years, following the soviet example, trade unions administered a large number of social insurance activities. in 1965 the state assumed the administration of all phases except those for rest and recreation facilities. the social insurance program, as provided for in the council of ministers decision of september 13, 1966, and effective january 1, 1967, included benefits for workers, employees, and others. peasants in the collectives were not included in this law, but similar welfare benefits were provided from funds established by their organizations. the 1966 law continued the policy announced in 1964 that free medical care was provided to everyone. drugs, such as penicillin and antibiotics, and vitamins prescribed during outpatient treatment had to be paid for by the user. funds for social insurance payments came from the state budget. contributions were paid by state institutions and enterprises that were in the role of employers. workers who became incapacitated and had over ten years of work credit received payments at the rate of 85 percent of the average wage for the last month worked; persons with less than ten years' service received 70 percent, except that temporary or seasonal workers were given less. when disability resulted directly from work, pay was given at the rate of 95 percent for most trades and 100 percent for persons working in mines. compensation was less when incapacity resulted from an accident unrelated to work. payments under these circumstances depended on age and years of work credit. veterans who served in the army of national liberation before may 1944 and some of the party elite were allowed an extra 10 percent when incapacitated (see ch. 2, historical setting). pregnant women were given eighty-four days' leave under normal circumstances and 95 percent of their monthly wage if they had worked over five years. they received 75 percent if they had worked less than five years. workers could remain at home for limited periods to care for the sick and receive 60 percent of their pay. when children under seven years of age were ill, the worker was permitted up to ten days' leave during a three-month period. a subsidy, a one-time payment, of 280 leks was provided for each child. upon the death of a family head or his spouse, 300 leks were provided for funeral expenses. old-age pensions were based on age and years of work. payments were computed at the rate of 70 percent of the worker's average monthly wage. the minimum pension was 350 leks, and the maximum was 900 leks per month; two exceptions were veterans of the army of national liberation who served before may 1944 and party leaders, who were awarded an additional 10 percent. women who reared six or more children to the age of eight were permitted to retire at age 50 when they completed fifteen years of work, instead of the usual requirement of twenty years. wages and prices the limited data available indicated that in early 1966 factory and manual workers received 400 to 800 leks in wages per month. skilled workers were paid 400 to 1,500 leks, and senior officials received up to 1,500 leks per month. after the reduction in the size of the bureaucracy was announced in late 1966, the maximum for officials was reduced to 1,200. prices in leks per pound for foodstuffs in 1966 were approximately as follows: bread, 1 to 2, depending on type; flour, 2 to 2.5; sugar, 4.5; beans, 3 to 4.5; beef, 6.5; and lamb, 8.5. prices for other commodities, in leks, were as follows: a man's suit, 400 to 1,300; a pair of men's shoes, 120 to 200; radio, 500 to 2,400; and a bicycle, 800 to 1,300. during the late 1960s the consumer continued to feel the squeeze of the drive for greater economic self-sufficiency and the priority given to the building of means of production. despite announcements of greater benefits to the worker, the average citizen in early 1970 continued to pay approximately 90 percent of his income for food and shelter. basic commodities and foodstuffs were in short supply, and waiting in line at distribution points was required to obtain the most commonly used items. manufactured items were generally of poor quality. automobiles were owned by the government only, and bicycles, a status symbol, were available to only a few. chapter 5 social system the communist regime was still striving in 1970 to alter the traditional tribal and semifeudal social patterns of the country and to restructure the whole system to fit marxist-leninist principles of a socialist society. until after world war ii the strongest loyalties of the people had been toward family and larger kin groups, which have been the most important units in albanian society. kin groups had been held together by strong spirit and loyalties, as well as by economic factors. the head of the family, usually the eldest male member, historically exercised patriarchal authority, with general responsibility for the welfare and safety of the members. in this patriarchal society, respect for parental authority was dominant. local autonomy and suspicion of central authority had for centuries been a way of life for albanian society. this way of life persisted until the twentieth century, despite the foreign cultural and political influences to which the society was subjected during the long domination by the ottoman turks. of particular social importance during this domination was the conversion of the majority of the people to the islamic faith. even before this conversion, however, the people had been segmented by the schism between the roman and eastern orthodox churches. the people in the north were usually roman catholic, and those in the south, eastern orthodox. tolerance, however, has been a marked feature of the people and, accordingly, religious divisiveness has had no great effect on the tribal and semifeudal structure of the society. indeed, the three religious faiths in the country--muslim, roman catholic, and eastern orthodox--have represented traditional loyalties rather than living creeds for the albanians. until the communist takeover in 1944, there had been two broad social classes in the country, an upper and a lower class. the upper class was composed of the landowning _beys_ (see glossary); some _bajraktars_ (relatively well-to-do tribal chieftains); and a smaller number of rich christian farmers, merchants, small industrialists, some intellectuals, and the higher clergy. the lower class, amounting to about 90 percent of the population, was composed of a small group of workers, the peasant masses, livestock breeders, and the lower clergy. the communist regime's political, social, and economic measures aimed at redirecting the traditional social patterns have resulted in more social transformations than at any time since the turkish invasions in the fifteenth century. collectivization of agriculture, industrialization and the consequent migration from rural to industrial areas, and a widespread educational system have done much to transform the tribal character of the society. although in 1970 the patriarchal system was still a way of life in the countryside, especially in the highlands, the authority of the master of the house had been considerably reduced. marriage customs in particular had changed. as a result, the position of the close-knit family had been altered. radical changes had occurred also in the life of women. many of them have had to work outside the home to compensate for the generally low wages of their husbands. day-care nurseries had been set up to make it easier for mothers to work and also to give the regime an early opportunity to indoctrinate the children. despite such transformation, however, the family was still the most significant unit in the society. the allegiance given to the family, coupled with the individualism characteristic of the people and the traditions of political autonomy in local affairs, had made it difficult for the regime to fully implement its policies for restructuring the society in general and the family in particular. reflecting the influence of the standard marxist-leninist dogma, the regime officially recognized only two classes--one composed of workers and considered the leading class and the other consisting of the working peasants, a third group usually being referred to as the people's intelligentsia. actually, a distinct new upper class, constituting less than 10 percent of the total population, emerged under communist rule to replace the upper ruling and middle classes that existed before the communist takeover. this new upper class was composed of the top ruling elite that controlled all facets of society and its supporting echelons, made up of officials of the party and state apparatus; mass organizations; and professional and technical people, such as doctors, lawyers, engineers, and managers of state enterprises. membership in the party or sympathy toward communism was the chain that linked this upper class together. all its segments had benefited from the communist system, having enjoyed considerable advantages over the rest of the population; they formed practically the only social group with a vested interest in the perpetuation of the system. the rest of the population--peasants, workers, and remnants of the upper and middle classes--were only cogs in the communist apparatus, all used for the purpose of implementing the party policies for the building of a communist society. under communist rule the stabilization of the class differentiations had lessened social mobility both upward and downward. in 1970 it was difficult to alter one's social status except through a long process of training and education. educational opportunities, however, had been greatly expanded, although they were still limited in the rural areas. the best opportunities were offered to the children of the party elite and party faithful. but because of the great demand for qualified personnel to manage the growing socialist sectors of the economy, some children of worker and peasant backgrounds had opportunities to continue their education to the highest levels and to fully develop their abilities and capacities. the whole educational system, however, was geared to the demands of the party, and its first objective was the inculcation of the youth with communist ideology. perhaps the most radical change in the whole social system had been effected in the area of religion. by 1970 the country's three principal religious faiths had been eliminated as organizational bodies. all churches and mosques had been closed; the clergy was not permitted to function; and the country had been declared by the official media to be the first atheist nation in the world. top party and government officials admitted, however, that the closing of the houses of worship and the action against the clergy had not eliminated the religious feelings and beliefs of the people. traditional social patterns and values the social structure of the country was until the 1930s basically tribal in the north and semifeudal in the central and southern regions. the highlanders in the north retained intact their medieval tribal pattern of life until well into the twentieth century and were considered the last peoples in europe to preserve tribal autonomy. in the central and southern regions, however, increasing contact with the outside world and invasions and occupations by foreign armies had reduced the tribes to tenure peasants. traditionally, there have been two major groupings or sub-cultures in the country: the gegs in the north, probably numbering slightly over half the total population, and the tosks in the south. although the terms _geg_ and _tosk_ have disappeared from the vocabulary because they connote division rather than communist unity, tirana officials and the press have often implied in recent years that the old differences and contrasts between the two groups still existed. these differences were marked not only in the physical appearance of the people and in dialect but also in the way of life in general. the gegs, partly roman catholic but mostly muslim, lived until after world war ii in a mountain society characterized by blood feuds and fierce clan and tribal loyalties. the tosks, on the other hand, were considered more civilized because of centuries of greek and other foreign influences. coming under the grip of the muslim landed aristocracy, the tosks lost the spirit of individuality and independence enjoyed for centuries by the gegs, especially in the highlands. until the end of world war ii society in the north and, to a much lesser extent, in the south was organized in terms of kinship and descent. the basic unit of society was the extended family, usually composed of a couple, their married sons, the wives and children of married sons, and any unmarried daughters. the extended family formed a single residential and economic entity held together by common ownership of means of production and common interest in defense of the group. such families often included scores of persons, and as late as 1944 some contained as many as sixty to seventy persons living in a cluster of huts surrounding the father's house. extended families were grouped into clans, the chiefs of which preserved, until the end of world war ii, patriarchal powers over the members of the entire group. the clan chief arranged marriages, assigned tasks, settled disputes, and decided what courses should be followed in such basic issues as blood feuds and politics. descent was traced from a common ancestor through the male line, and brides were usually chosen from outside the clan. clans in turn were grouped into tribes. in the tosk regions of the south the extended family was also the most important social unit, although patriarchal authority had been diluted by the feudal conditions imposed by the _beys_. the clan and tribal systems had disappeared at a much earlier period in the south and were retained into the mid-twentieth century only among the northern highlanders. leadership of society in the lowlands was concentrated in the hands of semifeudal tribal _beys_ and _pashas_ (see glossary). the general tirana region, for example, was controlled by the zogolli, toptani, and vrioni families, all being muslim _pashas_ or _beys_ and all owning extensive agricultural estates. ahmet zogu, subsequently king zog i, was from the zogolli family. originally the _pasha_ class ranked slightly higher than that of the _bey_, but differences gradually diminished and all members were called _beys_. in the northern highlands the _bajraktars_ were the counterparts of the _beys_ and enjoyed similar hereditary rights to titles and positions. the geg clans put great importance on marriage traditions. marriage customs and prohibitions designed to perpetuate these traditions were still practiced at the end of world war ii. according to the custom a young man from a given clan always married a young woman from outside the clan but from within the same tribe. in some tribes marriages between christians and muslims were tolerated even before the advent of the communist regime, but as a rule such marriages were frowned upon. a variety of offenses against women served as an igniting spark for blood feuds. many girls were engaged to marry in their infancy by their parents. if later the girl did not wish to marry the man whom the parents had chosen for her and married another, in all likelihood a blood feud would ensue. among the tosks, religious beliefs and customs, rather than clan and tribal traditions, were more important in regulating marriages. the family had for centuries presented the basic, most important unit in the social structure of the country. one aspect of this was the deep devotion of a person to his parents and family. this feeling took a striking form because the family was a social unit occupying to a great extent the place of the state. children were brought up to respect their elders and, above all, their father, whose word was law in the confines of his family. upon the death of the father the authority of the family devolved upon the oldest male of the family. the females of the household, with the exception of the mother, occupied an inferior position. the unwritten law of family life was based on the assumption that a daughter was part of the family until she married. when the time came for sons to set up their own households, all parental property was equally divided among them; the females did not share in this division. geographical conditions affected tosk social organization. the region's accessibility led to its coming much more firmly under turkish rule. this rule in turn resulted in the breakup of the large, independent family-type units and their replacement by large estates owned by powerful muslim landowners, each with his own retinues, fortresses, and large numbers of tenant peasants to work the lands. their allegiance to the sultans in the period before 1912 was secured by the granting of administrative positions either at home or elsewhere in the ottoman empire. the large estates were usually confined to the plains, but the process of their consolidation was a continuing one. landowning _beys_ would get peasants into their debt and thus establish themselves as semifeudal patrons of formerly independent villagers. in this way a large muslim aristocracy developed in the south, whose life style was in marked contrast both to that of the chieftains of the highlands in the north and to that of the peasantry, the majority of whom assumed the characteristics of an oppressed social class. as late as the 1930s two-thirds of the rich land in central and southern parts of the country belonged to the large landowners. there was a sharp contrast between the tribal society of the geg highlanders and the passive, oppressed tosk peasantry, living mostly on the large estates of the _beys_ and often represented in the political field by the _beys_ themselves. this semifeudal society in the south survived well into the twentieth century because of the lack of a strong middle class. after independence in 1912, however, a small tosk middle class began to develop, which in the 1920-24 period, having common interests with the more enlightened _beys_, played a major role in attempts to create a modern society. but the advent of zogu in 1925 as a strong ruler put an end to tosk influence and, from that time until the italian invasion in 1939, zog cemented his power in the tribal north by governing through a number of strong tribal and clan chiefs. to secure the loyalty of these chiefs, he placed them on the government payroll and sent several of them back to their tribes with the military rank of colonel. in the 1939-44 period general anarchy prevailed throughout the country, and in the north the tribal chieftains assumed their old independent positions. the three major resistance movements that developed during world war ii represented the principal social classes then in existence in the country. the communist-dominated national liberation movement was composed chiefly of low-level tosk intellectuals and bureaucrats, some labor leaders, and a few chieftains from the geg areas, such as haxhi leshi, who was head of state in 1970. the movement derived its main support from the small working class and the poor peasants. the nationalist balli kombetar (national front) was composed of nationalist _beys_ and orthodox intellectuals and derived its support from well-to-do peasants, merchants, and businessmen. the legality movement, a pro-zog organization, was headed by a chieftain from mat, and its supporters were confined to that region. farther north the resistance groups were led by the local chieftains, such as muharem bajraktari and gani bey kryeziu. the collaborators with the italian authorities were composed of reactionary _beys_, geg chieftains (both muslim and catholic), and a small group of intellectuals that had embraced the fascist ideology. this group had little or no popular support. social stratification under communist rule the general class structure of the country at the advent of the communist regime in 1944 consisted of the peasants and workers making up the lower class and a small upper class. the peasants represented over 80 percent of the total population, most of whom lived at or below subsistence level. chiefly because of the old grievances against the landowning _beys_ and the promises made by the national liberation movement (which presented itself as a purely patriotic, democratic movement for agrarian reforms), a large number of peasants, especially the tenant and landless ones, sided with the movement (see ch. 1, general character of the society). nonagricultural workers numbered about 30,000 persons, most of whom worked in mines and in the small handicraft industries. the movement found strong support from this group also. the upper class comprised professional people and intellectuals; medium and small merchants; moneylenders; and well-to-do artisans, whose capital was invested mostly in trade, commerce, and the italian industrial concessions. the industrialists also belonged to this class; they owned very small industries and workshops. both the _beys_ and the tribal chiefs of the north had been somewhat reduced in importance politically and economically during zog's rule, but it was chiefly from these two groups that zog created the ruling elite that helped him to control the country until the italian invasion in 1939. the clergy of the three religious denominations did not form a distinct social group. the higher clergy was intellectual and upper class in structure; it supported the ruling elite but did not mix in politics after bishop fan noli, leader of a short-lived reformist government, was driven out of the country in 1924. the income from the fairly extensive church estates and the state subsidies provided a good, but not luxurious, living for the higher clergy. the rank-and-file clergy, however, were derived from peasant origins, and most of their parishes were as impoverished as the peasant households they served. the events immediately preceding and following the communist seizure of power forebode the doom not only of the _beys_ and tribal chiefs but also of most of the upper class and intellectuals, who had refused to collaborate with the national liberation movement. in the summer and fall of 1944, while civil war was raging between the communist-controlled partisan formations and anti-communist bands, nearly all the influential _beys_ and _bajraktars_ either fell in battle or fled the country; those who remained were quickly rounded up by the communist security forces and subsequently tried as "enemies of the people" (see ch. 2, historical setting). the whole leadership of the two nationalist organizations, the balli kombetar and the legality movement, fled to italy. influential patriots and intellectuals who had remained neutral during the so-called war of national liberation but who were considered potentially dangerous to the communist regime were apprehended and tried en masse in the spring of 1945. some were executed; others were sent to labor camps, where most of them died from malnutrition and lack of medical care. a new communist social order was legally instituted in the country with the adoption of the first communist constitution in march 1946, which created a "state of workers and laboring peasants." the various constitutional articles dealing with the new social order abolished all ranks and privileges that had derived from reasons of origin (such as the tribal chiefs and the _beys_), position, wealth, or cultural standing. all citizens were considered equal regardless of nationality, race, or religion. marriage and family were brought under the strict control of the state, which determined by law the conditions of marriage and the family. marriages could be considered legal only when contracted before competent state organs, and only state courts had jurisdiction on all matters connected with marriage. included in the 1946 constitution also was the marxist tenet "from each according to his ability and to each according to his work." subsequent revisions to the constitution gave legal sanction to the existing situation that the party and its members were the leading, or vanguard, group in the country. _e drejta kushtetuese e republikes popullore te shqiperise_ (the constitutional right in the people's republic of albania), published in 1963 by the faculty of jurisprudence of the state university of tirana, stated that the war of national liberation was actually class warfare, a civil war whose purpose was as much national as it was social liberation--that is, the establishment of the "people's power" and the "dictatorship of the proletariat." communist spokesmen listed three principal classes prevailing in the early years of the regime: the working class, the laboring peasants, and, in their terms, the exploiting class, that is, the landowners in the agricultural economy and the bourgeoisie in trade. the exploiting class was liquidated through a rapid revolutionary process in the early stages of the regime. the middle and high bourgeoisie was destroyed as a result of the nationalization of industry, transport, mines, and banks and the establishment of a state monopoly on foreign commerce and state control over internal trade. the feudal landlords disappeared with the application of the agrarian reforms in the 1945-47 period. these steps were followed by a program of rapid industrialization, with the consequent creation of a strong working class, and the collectivization of agriculture, supposedly resulting in the formation of a homogeneous peasant class. after the destruction of the old class structure, the communist regime claimed that only two classes existed in the country, the workers and the working peasants. a somewhat different social composition of the population, however, has been given by the government's statistical yearbooks, based on the last official census, taken in 1960. under the title "social composition of the population," for instance, the 1965 statistical yearbook listed, in order, the following groups; workers, employees (civil servants), collective and private farmers (officially called villagers), collective and individual artisans, collective and private traders, free professions, clergymen, and unemployed and unknown (see table 4). in the 1967-70 period several of these groups disappeared. the individual farmers were all collectivized; the artisan collectives were converted to state industrial enterprises; the private traders, except the peasant open markets, were reduced to a minimum, and members of the clergy were sent to work either in industrial plants or agricultural collectives. the number of families almost doubled in the 1945-60 period. in the cities they grew from 48,800 to 95,500 and in the countryside, from 148,000 to 184,305. the greatest rate of increase, almost 8 percent, occurred during the 1950-55 period in the urban sector; this was attributed primarily to the creation of an industrial base. the expansion of the existing cities, especially the capital city of tirana, caused by the establishment of a number of industrial projects, drew people from the rural regions into the urban centers. this new migration was reinforced by the relocation of entire families. in addition, new family units were formed by the younger migrants once they settled in the newly developing industrial centers. during the decade of the 1950s the trend was toward larger families. _table 4. social composition of the population of albania_* _(according to the 1960 official census)_ average number of number of number per social groups families persons males females family workers 79,804 433,040 237,307 195,733 5.9 employees (civil servants) 36,891 182,913 98,279 84,634 4.3 collective farmers 105,778 670,422 331,269 339,153 6.8 private farmers 44,419 275,169 136,683 138,486 6.4 collective artisans 5,255 35,056 17,304 17,752 5.3 individual artisans 1,846 8,950 4,683 4,267 5.4 collective traders 431 2,328 1,216 1,112 5.0 private traders 751 3,474 1,880 1,594 5.0 free professions 166 889 498 391 4.1 clergymen 831 2,785 1,668 1,117 n.a. unemployed and unknown 3,633 11,289 5,507 6,782 3.0 total 279,805 1,626,315 836,294 791,021 5.8 n.a.--not available. * according to 1965 data, the family of seven or eight members was then typical in the villages for the agricultural collectives that were researched and, in the peasant families as a whole in 1965, the average family had 6.2 persons. source: adapted from _vjetari statistikor i r. p. sh._, tirana, 1968, pp. 74-77; and _ekonomia popullore_, tirana, november to december 1965. aside from the workers and peasants, the only group to which the tirana authorities have continued to give special attention has been the so-called intelligentsia. usually termed a layer or stratum of the new social order, the intelligentsia was considered, in 1970 to be a special social group because of the country's needs for professional, technical, and cultural manpower. to justify this special attention, the ideologists have often quoted lenin to the effect that "the intelligentsia will remain a special stratum until the communist society reaches its highest development." in the development of the social structure under the communist regime, basic transformations have occurred in the social composition of the intelligentsia. this transformation, during the 1944-48 period, involved not only the purging of a number of western-educated intellectuals whom the regime considered potentially dangerous but also some top communist intellectuals who were suspected of having anti-yugoslav or pro-western feelings. the remaining old intellectuals were reeducated and reoriented and were utilized for the preparation of new personnel for the bureaucracy and industry. finally, a new intelligentsia was created, thoroughly imbued with the communist ideology and recruited generally from among the children of the party leaders, workers, and peasants. the communist regime created another social group at the bottom rung of the ladder. this group was composed largely of elements of the upper classes in existence before 1944. the tribulations of this class had by 1970 reduced it to a small minority, some members of which were still interned in forced labor camps. it was actually a class of outcasts, discriminated against politically, socially, and economically. most of the members of this group were used as so-called volunteer laborers on construction projects and in other menial tasks, and their children did not enjoy the same rights to higher education and other opportunities open to the other classes. discriminatory measures against this class continued to be taken in the late 1960s; in 1968, for instance, the government passed a law prohibiting them from receiving money remittances or food and clothing packages from their relatives and friends abroad. the communist assertion of the existence of only two social classes did not correspond to the real class structure that prevailed in the country in 1970. in fact, there existed different classes and gradations of rank and privilege, beginning with an upper class, composed of the party elite, leaders of the state and mass organizations, and the leading members of the armed and security forces. the top party elite itself was composed of two distinct social groupings, the higher group consisting of the political bureau (politburo) of eleven regular and five candidate members and the chiefs of the directorates of the central committee the lower group being made up of the rank-and-file members of the central committee. family connections played a key role in the composition of the politburo in 1970. the top three families were those of first party secretary enver hoxha and his wife nexhmije, who headed the directorate of education and culture in the central committee; prime minister mehmet shehu and his wife, fiqrete, who headed the top party school; and party secretary hysni kapo and his wife, vito, who headed the politically and ideologically important women's organization. general kadri hasbiu--minister of interior, head of the security forces, and a politburo candidate member--was a brother-in-law of mehmet shehu. similar family relationships existed between the other politburo members. about half of the sixty-one members of the central committee were also related. just below the politburo and the central committee were the vast party and government bureaucracy, professional people and intellectuals, and managers of state industrial and agricultural enterprises. there were some basic social differences between the top party elite and the lower party functionaries and state officials in terms of privileges, influence, authority, and responsibility. this group of lower party and state officials was bound together by the economic privileges and prestige that went with their positions and membership in, or sympathy for, the party; they all benefited from the regime and enjoyed educational and economic advantages denied the rest of the population. below this group were the rank-and-file party members, whose leadership role was constitutionally guaranteed. aside from the prestige enjoyed as party members, however, their privileges and economic benefits did not differ much from the next class in communist structure of albanian society, namely the workers. constituting about 15 percent of the total population, the working class, styled by the regime as the leading class, was created mostly after the communist seizure of power and was composed almost wholly of peasant stock. this group, probably more so than the peasant masses, has been under constant pressure to work harder, to produce more, and to work longer, often even after their normal schedules were completed. although the regular work schedule was eight hours, workers were called upon to perform volunteer labor and to overfulfill norms. there was very little chance for rest and recreation. before 1967 the workers could take advantage of religious holidays, which provided some time for recreation, but since then all religious holidays have been banned. the only legal holidays were new year's day; republic day, on january 11; may day; army day, on july 10; and independence and liberation days, on november 28 and 29, respectively. there were, however, a few local socialist holidays connected with the liberation of the areas by the partisan formations in 1944. the workers also received two-week paid vacations annually. the largest class, that of the peasants, represented about two-thirds of the total population and, according to communist dogma, was allied with the working class and led by it. the regime's policy of complete agricultural collectivization has been distressing for the peasant class. a lover of his land, irrespective of its size, and of his independence, the peasant was deprived of his farmland, except for a tiny plot, and herded into a collective. his income in the collective was only on the subsistence level. collective peasants were called upon to perform 300 to 350 workdays a year. a constant complaint of the regime has been that the peasants have not been "freed from the psychology of the small owner, the concept of private property." as of 1970 there were actually no social differences between the workers and peasants because nearly all the workers were of peasant stock and still had close ties with relatives in their native villages, and indeed some workers continued to keep their families in the villages. soon after the adoption of the constitution in 1946, a number of laws were adopted regulating marriage and divorce. the law on marriage, adopted in 1948, provided that marriages had to be contracted before an official of the local people's council, and strong penalties were prescribed for any clergyman performing a religious ceremony before a civil ceremony had taken place. the legal age for contracting marriage was set at eighteen for both sexes, but persons as young as sixteen years of age could enter into marriage with the permission of the people's court. in such cases the minors did not need parental consent, and the law considered them "emancipated." marriage was based on the full equality of rights of both spouses. thus the concept of the head of the family, recognized by pre-communist civil law and so important for albanian family life, was eliminated. each of the spouses, according to the 1948 law, had the right to choose his or her own occupation, profession, and residence. marriage with foreigners was prohibited unless entered into by permission of the government. the laws on divorce were designed to facilitate and speed up divorce proceedings. the separation of spouses was made a ground for divorce under the law, and in such cases a court could grant a divorce without considering related facts or the causes of the separation. the basic divorce law, which was originally passed in 1948 and, after some modifications, was still in effect in 1970, provided that each spouse may ask for divorce on grounds on incompatibility of character, continued misunderstandings, irreconcilable hostility, or for any other reason that disrupted marital relations to the point where a common marital life had become impossible. certain crimes committed by the spouse, especially political crimes, the so-called crimes against the state, and crimes involving moral turpitude, were also made causes for divorce. in the 1950-64 period the total number of marriages averaged about 12,000 annually, except in 1961, when 18,725 marriages were registered; for the whole fourteen-year period marriages averaged about 7.8 per 1,000 population annually. during the same period there were about 1,000 divorces a year in the whole country; this represented about 0.2 percent of the total married population. the problems still facing the communist regime in its efforts to change the traditional character of society, especially in the countryside, were highlighted in a strong editorial in the february 8, 1970, issue of _zeri i popullit_ (the voice of the people), the party's official daily. according to the article, the most dangerous antisocial phenomenon in the social life of the country was patriarchalism. this phenomenon was particularly strong in the mountainous north where it was firmly entrenched and involved people from rank-and-file villagers to party members. the basic difficulty derived from the fact that the local communist leaders entertained patriarchal notions about the party; they considered the party organization as one in which they found a reincarnation of the clan. there was a tendency therefore for the communists to admit to the party organization people from their own _bajrak_, or clan, in order to have a dominant position in, and exercise command over, such socialist organizations as agricultural collectives. in a party organization the head of one _bajrak_ was put in command so that he could rule over the other, just as if he were the head of the clan. as in the old clan society, quarrels often occurred in basic party organizations when one _bajraktar_ attempted to wrest control of the organization from another. entrance into the party was considered by the patriarchal-minded highlanders as penetration into places where they could enjoy privileges and prestige. a similar situation prevailed in the agricultural collectives, in which the presidents of the collectives, imbued with the traditional idea of chieftainship, behaved toward the property of the collectives as if it were their own. the problems of the collectives were not submitted to either the basic party organizations or to the general assembly of the collective. according to official criticism, everything was settled in the "clan style, in the spirit of family interest, of the clan, of the entity, precisely because they formed a family within which defense and support of their interests, right or wrong, had become the rule." enver hoxha stated in a speech in 1968 that the position of the secretary of the party organization or of an agricultural collective was considered in many areas as inheritable, just as the chieftainship in the tribal society has been inherited. the difficulties faced by the regime's attempts to eradicate the persistent patriarchal notions were succinctly phrased by hoxha in his address to the democratic front congress in september 1967. declaring that the social problems in the country were complex in the towns and more so in the countryside, he lamented the fact that the rural areas: have their own written and especially unwritten laws, which are often expressed in various regressive and harmful customs, in norms that are alien to our communist morals. these are very dangerous and obstinate; they insistently resist the new and are liquidated with difficulty. these customs and norms have their own economic, ideological, religious, and ethical basis; they have their own class roots from capitalism to feudalism, indeed from the _bajrak_ and the tribe. in an obvious effort to root out some of the old prevailing customs and traditions, the party inaugurated in 1967 a movement aimed at revolutionizing the family and, in party jargon, liberating it from the remnants of bourgeois and petty bourgeois ideology. the targets have been directed toward the youth, both boys and girls. in resolutions adopted by the party's central committee it was charged that in some families, because of the conservative and patriarchal mentality of the parents, the children were still not allowed to participate in parental conversations, especially the girls, on the pretext that they were too young and immature. discussions on morals, such as relations between boys and girls, love, and the creation of a socialist family, were particularly limited. it was the parents' view that they should not discuss such things with their children since this would undermine the traditional respect and authority of the parents. as stated in the january 30, 1970, issue of _zeri i popullit_, the need to strengthen the struggle against alien concepts that still plagued families became clearer when one considered some negative concepts that were evident in young people. families of intellectuals were particularly singled out for criticism because, according to the party journal, they manifested liberal attitudes in their attempts to satisfy every petty bourgeois craving and desire of their children; they instilled in them their own intellectual tendencies and fed and dressed them beyond their means. evidence of the party's failure to detach the people completely from their traditional habits and customs was forcefully presented by the party in a book published in 1968 under the title _party basic organizations for further revolutionizing the life of the country_. it was freely admitted that much remained to be done in the struggle to emancipate the women and to draw boys and girls from the tutelage of their parents. when the wife of a party member decided to join the party, for example, her husband addressed a note to the secretary of the basic party organization saying that should the secretary enroll his wife in the party, he would be destroying a family because he could not possibly live with his wife on an equal basis. similarly, when a woman in a village was proposed as a member of the council of the agricultural collective, her brother-in-law objected strenuously, saying that her candidacy should be rejected since it was advanced without obtaining his permission as the head of the family and that in any case the "men of that family were not yet dead." in a village in kruje the first woman to become a party candidate was asked to leave the party because she did not belong to the same clan to which the party secretary belonged. in another case, when a candidate was proposed for party membership, someone reportedly stated that "we must enlist one from our clan also" in order to maintain the clan equilibrium in the party. the problem of social and family relations was still a major concern for the regime at the end of 1969. for example, in a major speech on family and social relations in november 1969, hysni kapo, the third-ranking man in the party hierarchy, blamed the class enemy for the slow progress the party had registered in creating a new social structure. the class enemy, kapo admitted, was found everywhere, in and outside the party, and it was striving hard to obstruct the path of socializing the family and emancipating the women. kapo bemoaned the fact that the men of the socialist society had not shaken off the vestiges of the past and that there were yet a large number of people who, with their behavior and actions at work, in society, and at home, were in contradiction to the requirements of the personality of the new man in the socialist society. villages, agricultural collectives, artisan and trade cooperatives, and work centers daily faced such social problems as betrothals and marriages that did not follow guidelines set by the party, conservative attitudes toward women and youth, and widespread tendencies toward clannishness. according to kapo, there were a large number of communists who made little effort to implement the party social line because the customs inherited from the old society still existed in the minds and hearts of the people and because the party had been unable to divest people of all that was "hostile and reactionary and clothe them with the party ideology." kapo considered the most disturbing feature of this state of affairs to be the religious and patriarchal aspects that prevented the youth from creating a new socialist society and that continued to exist even among communist cadres. western correspondents reporting from tirana, in commenting on kapo's speech, stated that what actually disturbed the party most was the persistent opposition of the parents to new social standards set by the party to regulate and control family life in general and the life of the youth in particular. standards for dating, mixed muslim-christian marriages, engagement of boys and girls within socially accepted classes (the aim being to isolate the children of the former upper classes), and working and living together in various so-called volunteer construction projects were objectionable to parents. education pre-communist era as late as the 1940s over 80 percent of the people were illiterate. the principal reason for this was that schools in the native language were practically nonexistent in the country before it became an independent state in 1912. until about the middle of the nineteenth century the ottoman rulers prohibited the use of the albanian language in schools. the turkish language was used in the few schools that existed, mainly in cities and large towns, for the muslim population. the schools for orthodox christian children were under the supervision of the istanbul ecumenical patriarchate. the teachers for these schools were usually recruited from the orthodox clergy, and the language of instruction, as well as that used in textbooks, was greek. the first known school to use the native tongue in modern history was in a franciscan seminary that was opened in 1861 in shkoder, where the jesuits in 1877 founded a seminary in which the native tongue also was used. during the last two decades of the nineteenth century and the first decade of the twentieth, a number of patriots who were striving to create a national consciousness founded several elementary schools in a few cities and towns, mostly in the south, but they were closed by the turkish authorities. the advent of the young turks movement in 1908 encouraged the albanian patriots to intensify their national efforts, and in the same year a group of intellectuals met in monastir (bitolj), yugoslavia, to formulate an albanian alphabet. books written in albanian before that date used a mixture of alphabets, consisting mostly of a combination of latin, greek, and turkish-arabic letters. the monastir meeting developed a unified alphabet based on latin letters. as a result, a number of textbooks were written in the new alphabet, and elementary schools were soon opened in various parts of the country. in 1909, to meet the demands for teachers able to teach in the native tongue, a normal school was inaugurated in elbasan. but in 1910 the young turks, fearing the emergence of albanian nationalism, closed all schools that used albanian as the language of instruction. even after the country became independent, schools were scarce. the unsettled political conditions caused by the balkan wars and world war i hindered the development of a unified educational system. the foreign occupying powers, however, opened some schools in their respective areas of occupation, each using its own language. a few of these schools, especially the italian and french, continued after the end of world war i and played a significant role in introducing western educational methods and principles. of particular importance was the french lycã©e in korce, founded by the french army in 1817. soon after the establishment of a national government in 1920, which included a ministry of education, the foundations were laid for a national educational system. elementary schools were opened in the cities and some of the larger towns, and the italian and french schools opened during the war were strengthened. in the meantime, two important american schools were founded--the american technical school in tirana, established by the american junior red cross in 1921, and the american agricultural school in kavaje, sponsored by the near east foundation. an important girls' school was also founded by kristo dako, an albanian-american, whose teaching language was english. the two top leaders of the country in 1970, party first secretary enver hoxha and prime minister mehmet shehu, were educated in these foreign schools; hoxha graduated from the french lycã©e in 1930, and shehu from the american technical school in 1932. in the 1920s, the period when the real foundations of the modern albanian state were laid, education made considerable progress. in 1933 the albanian royal constitution was amended, making the teaching and educating of citizens an exclusive right of the state. education was thus nationalized, and all foreign-language schools, except the american agricultural school, were either closed or nationalized. the reason for this move was to stop the rapid spread of schools sponsored directly by the italian government, especially among the catholic element in the north. the nationalization of schools was followed in 1934 by a far-reaching reorganization of the whole school system. the new system provided for obligatory elementary education from the ages of four to fourteen; the expansion of secondary schools of various kinds; the establishment of new technical, vocational, and commercial secondary schools; and the acceleration and expansion of teacher training. the obligatory provisions of the 1934 reorganization law, however, were never enforced in the rural areas because of the economic conditions of the peasants who needed their children to work in the fields and because of the lack of schoolhouses, teachers, and means of transportation. the only minority schools operating in the country before world war ii were those for the greek minority of about 35,000 living in the prefecture of gjirokaster. these schools too were closed by the constitutional amendment of 1933, but greece referred the case to the international permanent court of justice, which forced albania to reopen the schools. there was no university-level education in prewar albania. all advanced studies were pursued abroad. every year the state granted a number of scholarships to deserving high school graduates who were economically unable to continue their education. but the largest number of students were from well-to-do families and thus privately financed. for instance, in the 1936/37 academic year, only 65 of the 428 students attending universities abroad had state scholarships. the great majority of the students attended italian universities because of geographic proximity and because of the special relationship between the rome and tirana governments. the italian government itself, following its policy of political, economic, military, and cultural penetration of the country, granted a number of scholarships to albanian students recommended by its legation in tirana. there are no reliable prewar statistics on school population. the 1967-68 albanian official statistical yearbook placed the total 1938/39 school enrollment at 56,283. other sources placed it at over 60,000. soon after the italian occupation in april 1939 the educational system came under complete italian control. the italian language was made compulsory in all secondary schools, and fascist ideology and orientation were inserted into the school curricula. after 1941, however, when guerrilla bands began to operate against the italian forces, the whole educational system was paralyzed. in fact, secondary schools became centers of resistance and of guerrilla recruitment, and many teachers and students went to the mountains and became members or leaders of resistance bands. by september 1943, when italy capitulated and german troops occupied the country, education came to a complete standstill. education under communist rule immediately upon seizure of power in november 1944, the communist regime gave high priority to opening the schools and organizing the whole educational system along communist lines. the communist objectives for the new school system were to liquidate illiteracy in the country as soon as possible, to struggle against "bourgeois survivals" in the country's culture, to transmit to the youth the ideas and principles of the party, and to educate the children of all classes of society on the basis of these principles. the first communist constitution (1946) made it clear that the intention of the regime was to bring all children under the control of the state. the state, constitutionally, took special care for the education of youth, and all schools were placed under state management. the educational reform law of 1946 provided specifically that marxist-leninist principles would permeate all school texts. this law also made the struggle against illiteracy a principal goal of the new school system. a further step in this direction was taken in september 1949, when the government promulgated a law requiring all illiterates between ages twelve and forty to attend classes in reading and writing. courses for illiterate peasants were established by the education sections of the people's councils. the political organs in the armed forces provided parallel courses for its illiterate military personnel. the 1946 education law, in addition to providing for seven-year obligatory schooling and four-year secondary education, called for the establishment of a wide network of vocational, trade, and pedagogical schools to prepare personnel, technicians, and skilled workers for the various social, cultural, and economic fields. another education law adopted in 1948 provided for the further expansion of vocational and professional courses to train skilled and semiskilled workers and to increase the theoretical and professional knowledge of the technicians. a further step was taken in 1950 to expand technical education. secondary technical schools were established along soviet lines by the various economic ministries. in 1951 three higher institutes of learning were founded: the higher pedagogic institute, the higher polytechnical institute, and the higher agricultural institute, all patterned along soviet models. the council of ministers said that their purpose in founding these institutes was to create conditions for further development "according to the example of science, culture, and technique of the soviet union." in the 1949-54 period the school system was given a thorough soviet orientation both ideologically and structurally. most textbooks, especially those dealing with scientific and technical matters, were soviet translations. soviet educators were attached to the major branches of the ministry of education. the russian language was made compulsory as of the seventh grade, and soviet methodology was applied. large numbers of students and teachers were sent to soviet pedagogical schools for study and training. courses for teacher preparation were established in which the russian language, soviet methods of pedagogy and psychology, and marxist-leninist dialectics were taught by soviet instructors. a law adopted in 1954 reorganized the ministry of education, renamed it the ministry of education and culture, and, among other things, provided for the dissemination of communist principles "supported by the school experience of the soviet union." in 1957, when the state university of tirana was opened, a team of soviet educators laid its structural, curricular, and ideological foundations. parallel with the sovietization of the school system in the 1950s, the government made a concerted effort to implement the idea that education must be directly connected with daily living. a large number of white-collar and blue-collar workers were registered in evening and correspondence courses in the various trade and professional schools. according to government statistics, in the late 1950s one out of every four workers was taking some kind of course. importance was particularly given to improving polytechnical and related work experiences and to the dissemination of manual work in most of the schools. attempts were made to build vocational workrooms in most elementary and secondary schools. emphasis was placed on technical and agricultural subjects. by 1960 the system of elementary and secondary education had evolved into an eleven-year program made up of schools of general education and of vocational and professional schools. the schools of general education consisted of primary grades one to four, intermediate grades five to seven, and secondary grades eight to eleven. in october 1960, however, as the soviet-albanian conflict was reaching the breaking point, the party adopted a resolution calling for a reorganization of the whole school system, the real aim being to purge the schools of soviet influence and rewrite the textbooks. one more year was added to the eleven-year general education schools, and the whole school program was integrated more closely with productive work so as to prepare youths to work in industry to replace some of the soviet specialists should the latter be withdrawn, as they actually were in january and april 1961. another far-reaching school reform became effective on january 1, 1970. two factors seemed to have accounted for the new reorganization: the apparent lack of success in completely ridding the schools of so-called revisionist soviet influences and the decision, evidently related to the soviet invasion of czechoslovakia in 1968, to introduce military training in the whole school system. the reform was decreed by the party's central committee in a special plenum held in june 1969. at the plenum the principal speakers were party first secretary hoxha and prime minister shehu, the latter in his capacity as chairman of a special education commission attached to the central committee. hoxha charged that the old school system had left vestiges of the past in the consciousness of many intellectuals, teachers, professors, and men of science. according to hoxha the aim of the reform was to revolutionize the schools so that the new generation would be imbued with scientific and theoretical concepts of marxism-leninism and to combine these concepts with physical and military training. the new educational system was to persist in its struggle against old customs in society and in its efforts to inculcate youth with atheistic ideas. the new system, hoxha declared, was intended in particular "to safeguard our schools from the soviet revisionist school," which in a "demagogic way was degenerating into a bourgeois school." accordingly, the soviet concept in pedagogy was to be eradicated from the albanian schools. as reorganized on january 1, 1970, the system was divided into four general categories: preschool, general eight-year, secondary, and higher education (see fig. 5). on december 23, 1969, the government submitted to the people's assembly a draft bill on educational reform, which was approved and became effective on january 1, 1970. the preamble to the law set the ideological tone of the new system. its aim was to make "a decisive contribution to the training and education of the new man with comprehensive communist traits, loyal to the end to the party's cause," closely linking "learning with productive work and with physical and military education, giving absolute priority to marxism-leninism." in presenting the bill on the school reform to the people's assembly, minister of education and culture thoma deljana listed the three components of the reorganized school system as academic education, production, and military education. the educational system in 1969 was divided into two general parts: one dealt with full-time pupils and students from the kindergarten to the university level, and the other with adult education for employed people. the eight-year education was obligatory, beginning at age six and ending at age thirteen; secondary education began with grade nine, or age fourteen, and ended with grade twelve. [illustration: _figure 5. educational system in albania, 1969_] before a full-time student proceeds to higher education, he must pass a probationary period of one year in production work. the eight-year system was described as the fundamental link of the entire educational system; it was intended to provide the pupils with the primary elements of ideological, political, moral, aesthetic, physical, and military education. the new eight-year system differed from the old in that it lowered the entrance age from seven to six, and there were no longer separate primary and intermediate schools; that is, there was a single eight-year school, which was, however, completely separate from the secondary school. the secondary schools were of many kinds, consisting of four-year general education courses and four-year vocational and professional courses (industrial, agricultural, pedagogic, trade, arts, health, and others). some of these courses lasted only two years. in his report to the party's central committee in june 1969 on the reform of the school year, prime minister shehu said that the secondary schools were to have a standard curriculum for the school year. priority was to be given to academic subjects, followed by production and by physical and military education. shehu formulated the structure of the academic year in all secondary schools as follows: 6-â½ months of academic study, 2-â½ months of productive work, 1 month of military training, and 2 months of vacation. the curriculum of the secondary schools and, with slight differences, of the higher schools was divided as follows: academic subjects, 55 to 56 percent; production work, 26 to 27 percent; and physical and military education, 17 to 19 percent. shehu also said that terms borrowed from the soviet school system, would be dropped, and in the future secondary schools would be known by such names as general secondary school and industrial, agricultural, construction, trade, art, and sanitation secondary schools. the terms of study in the higher institutes lasted from three to five years. provision was also made to expand higher education by increasing the number of full-time students, setting up new branches in places where there were no higher institutes, and organizing specialization courses for those who had completed higher education to train highly qualified technical and scientific cadres. all full-time graduate students had to serve a probationary period of nine months in production and three months in military training, in addition to the prescribed military training received while in school. adult education had the same structure as that for full-time students, with two exceptions: first, the eight-year general education was not compulsory and was contracted into a six-year program allowing for completion of the first four grades in two years; second, those who wanted to proceed to higher institutes after graduating from secondary school had to devote one year to preparatory study instead of engaging in production work, as did full-time students. according to official statistics, in the late 1960s, the regime had made considerable strides, at least quantitatively, in education since it came to power in 1944 (see table 5). from a total enrollment of less than 60,000 students of all levels in the 1938/39 school year, according to the tirana press, the number had reached over 570,000 in the 1969/70 school year, with a teaching staff of 22,000. the total enrollment included pupils in the compulsory eight-year schools and students, workers, and collective farmers in the eight-year general education, secondary, trade, and professional schools, the state university of tirana, and other higher institutes of learning. nearly half of the total enrollment represented adults attending evening and correspondence courses. an article in the april 5, 1970, issue of _zeri i popullit_ admitted that, of those originally enrolled in september 1969 in evening elementary, secondary, higher education, trade, and vocational courses, from 25 to 50 percent either dropped out or were often absent. according to available official statistics, nearly 500,000 people were enrolled in schools and courses in the 1967/68 academic year; this included all adults who registered for, but did not necessarily attend regularly, technical and vocational courses, evening classes, or correspondence courses. in the same academic year the state university of tirana and five other higher institutes of learning had a total enrollment of 12,435 students, of whom nearly 8,000 attended the state university of tirana (see table 6). of the total enrollment, over 4,000 were adults or part-time students. in the 1945-56 period, that is, before the founding of the state university of tirana, the government sent a number of students to pursue their education in the soviet-bloc countries, mostly the soviet union. when the break came with moscow in 1961, all students were either expelled or withdrawn from all these countries. according to documents published by the tirana government after the break, at the beginning of the 1961/62 academic year there were 1,213 albanian students already enrolled in soviet institutions, and an additional 100 were to enroll during that academic year. they were all expelled by the soviets except for a few who asked for and obtained political asylum. in 1970 an unknown number of students were attending schools in the people's republic of china (communist china), and a few in romania and italy. _table 5. summary of educational institutions, pupils, and teachers in albania, for selected years_ 1938/39 1950/51 1960/61 1967/68 _primary and secondary education_ schools 649 2,222 2,990 3,597 pupils 55,404 172,831 290,728 455,557 teachers 1,477 4,942 9,071 16,758 _secondary professional schools_ schools 5 17 34 25 pupils 879 4,818 14,105 21,005 teachers 34 171 511 638 normal schools schools (3) (8) (11) (5) pupils (675) (2,525) (5,591) (2,708) teachers (18) (61) (200) (115) technical schools schools (2) (9) (23) (20) pupils (204) (2,253) (8,514) (18,297) teachers (16) (110) (311) (522) _higher education_ institutes 1 6 6 students 304 6,703 12,436 professors and assistants 13 288 606 _all educational systems_* schools 654 2,240 3,030 3,628 pupils and students 56,283 177,953 311,536 498,997 teachers and instructors 1,511 5,126 10,942 18,001 * the lower vocational schools are not included. source: adapted from _vjetari statistikor i r. p. sh._, 1967-68, tirana, 1968, p. 115. the chain of command in the organization of the educational system in 1970 ran from the party politburo to the education sections in the district people's councils. the politburo set the general policy guidelines and directives. in 1968 the politburo created a central commission on education attached to the central committee and headed by prime minister mehmet shehu. the commission's function was to elaborate the politburo's directives on reforming the school system. when mehmet shehu submitted the report on behalf of the commission to the plenum of the central committee in june 1969 concerning the reorganization of the school system, it was decided to continue the commission for an indefinite period. a more permanent body in the party's central committee was the directorate of education and culture, headed by nexhmije hoxha, wife of party first secretary enver hoxha. this body, guided by the directives prescribed by the politburo, supervised the ministry of education and culture in implementing the party's ideological and political guidelines. _table 6. students attending higher institutes in albania (academic year 1967/68)_ total number of students full-time students total female total female state university of tirana _faculties_ economics 1,275 271 437 137 geology 255 10 255 10 history and philology 1,944 701 984 462 engineering 1,259 139 1,102 120 law 504 62 163 29 medicine 1,034 378 1,034 378 natural sciences 1,683 529 1,262 440 ---- ---- ---- ---- total 7,954 2,090 5,237 1,576 higher agricultural institute _faculties_ agronomy 1,234 62 839 58 forestry 174 10 150 8 veterinary 324 23 324 23 ---- ---- ---- ---- total 1,732 95 1,313 89 higher institute of arts 239 60 232 60 higher institute of physical culture 191 39 169 37 two-year higher institute of pedagogy, tirana 1,113 458 331 140 two-year higher institute of pedagogy, shkoder 1,206 446 859 316 ----- ---- ---- ---- grand total 12,435 3,188 8,141 2,218 source: adapted from _vjetari statistikor i r. p. sh., 1967-1968_, tirana, 1968, p. 125. the ministry of education and culture was responsible for executing party policies and for administering the whole school system. it had education sections in all the district people's councils, which administered and, through their inspectors, controlled the teachers and the teaching programs. party control at all levels was exercised either directly by the party's basic organizations, as was the case in the higher institutes, or through the branches of the union of albanian working youth, the party's most powerful front organization. the majority of the teachers in secondary schools and higher institutes were party members. by the beginning of 1970 the regime seemed to have scored substantial progress in the field of education. illiteracy had been reduced considerably, if not actually eliminated. through an intensive program to train elementary and secondary school teachers, build schoolhouses, and make schooling obligatory up to the eighth grade, the government had enabled all the country's children to obtain some kind of rudimentary education. it had also instituted a system of higher education and had founded the first university in the history of the country and was thus no longer dependent on foreign universities to train people in the various professions. it had also instituted a widespread network of professional and vocational schools intended to train badly needed technicians and skilled workers. the whole education network, however, was a one-track system geared to serve the ideological and political objectives of the party. the party, through the central commission on education and the directorate of education and culture, both attached to the party's central committee, controlled every facet of the school system: programs, curricula, administration, teaching staffs, and funds. the schools, students, teachers, and professors were so organized as to form a monolithic establishment centrally directed and completely immersed in marxism-leninism. the entire system was dedicated to the education of the new man with communist traits and morality. as defined by the party leaders and party theoreticians, these traits and morality meant the development of a "revolutionary spirit and responsibility for one's tasks for society and the cause of socialism, the defense of the basic principles of the party and the implementation of its correct policy." the whole school system, as developed in the past twenty-five years, therefore, was for the building of communism as defined and interpreted by the albanian communists. all other ideologies, beliefs, cultures, and thoughts were banned from the country's schools. religion situation before the communist takeover one of the major legacies of nearly five centuries of ottoman rule was the conversion of over 70 percent of the population to islam. when independence came, therefore, the country emerged as a predominantly muslim nation, the only islamic state in europe. no censuses taken by the communist regime since it assumed power in 1944 have shown the religious affiliations of the people. it has been estimated that of a total population of 1,180,500, at the end of world war ii, about 826,000 were muslims, 212,500 eastern orthodox, and 142,000 roman catholics. the muslims were divided between adherents of the sunni branch and over 200,000 followers of a dervish order known as bektashi, an offshoot of the shia branch. christianity was introduced early in albania, having been brought in during the period of roman rule. after the division of the roman empire into east and west in 395, albania became politically a part of the eastern, or byzantine, empire but remained ecclesiastically dependent on rome. when, however, the final schism occurred in 1054 between the roman and eastern churches, the christians in the southern part of the country came under the jurisdiction of the constantinople ecumenical patriarchate. this situation prevailed until the turkish invasions of the fourteenth century, when the islamic faith was introduced. the apostasy of the people took many decades. in the mountainous north the propagation of islam met strong resistance from the catholics. gradually, however, backwardness, illiteracy, the absence of an educated clergy, and material inducements weakened resistance. coerced conversions occurred, especially when catholic powers, such as the venetian republic and austria, were at war with the ottoman empire. by the close of the seventeenth century the catholics in the north were outnumbered by the muslims. large-scale forced conversions among the orthodox in the south did not occur until the russo-turkish wars of the eighteenth century. islamic pressure was put on the orthodox christians because the turks considered them sympathetic to orthodox russia. the situation of the orthodox improved temporarily after a russo-turkish treaty of 1774 in which russia was recognized as the protector of the orthodox christians in the ottoman empire. the most effective method employed by the turks in their missionary efforts, especially in the central and southern parts of the country, was the creation of a titled noble muslim class of _pashas_, _beys_, and _agas_ (albanian tribal chiefs in turkish service), who were endowed with both large estates and extensive political and governing powers. through their political and economic influences these nobles controlled the peasants, large numbers of whom were converted to islam either through coercion or through promise of economic benefits. in the period from independence to the communist seizure of power, the muslim noble class composed the country's ruling elite, but this elite never interfered with religious freedom, which was sanctioned by the various pre-world war ii constitutions. the church and state were separate. these constitutions had declared that the country had no official religion, that all religions and faiths were respected, and that their freedom of exercise was assured. these provisions had expressed the true feelings of the people who, whether muslim, eastern orthodox, or roman catholic, were tolerant on religious matters. tolerance has been a marked characteristic of all albanians, as indicated in part by the fact that even after accepting islam, many people privately remained practicing christians, or so-called crypto-christians. as late as 1912 in a large number of villages in the elbasan area, most men had two names, a muslim one for public use and a christian one for private use. a characteristic remark on the religious tolerance of the albanians was made by lord byron, who observed in one of his diaries that elsewhere in the ottoman empire a man would declare himself to be either a muslim or a christian when asked what he was, but the albanian would reply that he was an albanian. situation under communist rule the communist regime has exhibited in its attitude toward religion a wide gap between precept and practice. the communist constitution, adopted in march 1946 and as subsequently amended, contains liberal provisions with regard to religion. freedom of conscience and religion is guaranteed to all citizens; the church is separate from the state; religious communities are free to exercise and practice their creeds; it is forbidden to use the church and religion for political purposes, and political organizations based on religion are outlawed; and the state may give material assistance to religious organizations. even before the adoption of the constitution, however, legislative measures had already been taken to curb the freedom and power of all religious bodies. for example, the agrarian reform law of august 1945 made special provision for the confiscation of all their wealth, especially the estates of monasteries, orders, and dioceses, and the seizure of their libraries and printing presses. but the first major law aimed specifically at the control and regulation of all religious bodies and at the elimination of all distinguished clergymen was enacted two years after the promulgation of the constitution. this law is known as decree no. 743 on religious communities, approved by the council of ministers on november 26, 1949, converted into law no. 773 on january 16, 1950, and amended by decree no. 3660 of april 10, 1963. the law provided that religious communities through their activities had to develop in their followers a sentiment of loyalty toward the people's republic of albania. in order to organize and function, religious communities had to be recognized by the state, such recognition taking place as a result of the approval of their statutes by the council of ministers. all regulations and bylaws issued on the basis of such statutes had also to be approved by the council of ministers, and the heads of religious communities and sects had to be approved by the council of ministers after being elected or appointed by the proper religious organs. religious communities or branches, such as the jesuit and franciscan orders, that had their headquarters outside the country were henceforth prohibited and ordered to terminate their activities within a month of the enactment of the decree. all religious communities were obliged to send at once to the council of ministers all pastoral letters, messages, speeches, and other instructions of a general character that were to be made public in any form. religious institutions were forbidden to have anything to do with the education of the young since this was the exclusive right of the state, and all religious communities were prohibited from operating philanthropic and welfare institutions and hospitals or from owning real estate. on the basis of decree no. 743 the council of ministers on may 4, 1950, issued decrees nos. 1064, 1065, and 1066, approving respectively the statutes of the sunni, orthodox, and bektashi religious communities. a common provision of all three decrees was that each religious community had to develop the "sentiment of loyalty in their followers toward the people's power and the people's republic of albania, as well as their patriotic feelings." the statute of the independent catholic church of albania was approved by decree no. 1322 of july 30, 1951. the regime's policy toward each of the three religious denominations, although differing somewhat in tactics, aimed from the outset at the eventual destruction of all organized religion. the regime achieved control over the muslim faith by dealing with each sect separately. the first measure aimed at dividing the sunni and bektashi, which was effected, officially, in may 1945, when the two were declared completely independent of each other. in dealing with the sunni clergy, the government arrested and executed as "enemies of the people" those members of the top hierarchy who were reluctant to toe the communist line, while others were imprisoned or sent to concentration camps. it named as head of the sunni community hafez musa haxhi ali, who in 1950 led a delegation of the sunni clergy to the soviet union, visiting uzbekistan and the muslim religious shrines of samarkand and tashkent and meeting with many soviet muslim leaders. he was also used in appeals for world peace and other slogans directed at the muslim countries in the middle east. the policy followed toward each group differed somewhat. the bektashi group had always been much more liberal and forward looking than the sunni. during the war a few leading bektashi clergymen had joined the national liberation movement, and three of them--baba mustafa faja martaneshi, baba fejzo, and sheh karbunaro--played major roles in bringing about close collaboration between the bektashi order and the regime. in march 1947, however, baba faja and baba fejzo were assassinated at the group's headquarters in tirana, where they had gone to meet with the world bektashi primate dede abazi (the bektashi had moved their world headquarters in the 1920s from ankara to tirana). as the tirana press reported the event: "the leaders of the bektashi, baba faja and baba fejzo, cooperating with the people's government, visited dede abazi to discuss the democratization of the religious organization. dede abazi answered with bullets, killing them both. later he shot himself." taking advantage of this incident, the regime eliminated those leaders of the bektashi clergy it considered disloyal. because of the traditionally nationalistic character of the albanian orthodox church, the regime has attempted from the outset to use it as an instrument for mobilizing the orthodox population behind its policies. using the church for its own ends, the regime took steps to purge all those elements within it that were considered unreliable. clergymen who did not yield to the demands of the regime were purged. among the purged orthodox leaders was the primate of the church, archbishop kristofor kisi, who was deposed in the late 1940s and subsequently died in jail. the regime replaced kisi with pashko vodica, a renegade priest who had joined the ranks of the partisan formations. on assuming the office of primate, under the name of archbishop paisi, he stated that it was the church's duty to be faithful to the people's republic of albania and to the people's power and added: "our church must be faithful to the camp of peace, to the great anti-imperialist and democratic camp, to the unique camp of socialism led brilliantly by the glorious soviet union and the great stalin...." archbishop paisi brought about close ties between the albanian orthodox church and the moscow patriarchate. these ties were further strengthened after a delegation of soviet religious leaders, headed by bishop nikon of odessa, visited tirana in the spring of 1951. after the 1960-61 moscow-tirana break, however, these ties lapsed. the roman catholic church, chiefly because it maintained close relations with the vatican and was more organized than were the muslim and eastern orthodox faiths, became a principal target of persecution as soon as the communists assumed power. in may 1945 monsignor nigris, the apostolic nuncio in albania, was arrested on charges of fomenting anti-communist feelings and deported to italy. in 1946 a number of catholic clergymen were arrested and tried on charges of distributing leaflets against the regime; some were executed, others given long prison terms at hard labor. according to vatican sources, from 1945 to 1953 the number of catholic churches and chapels in albania was reduced from 253 to 100. both seminaries in the country were closed, and the number of monasteries dropped from ten to two. all twenty convents were closed, as were fifteen orphanages, sixteen church schools, and ten charitable institutions. both catholic printing presses were confiscated, and the publication of seven religious periodicals ceased. the ranks of catholic priests were thinned from ninety-three in 1945 to ten in 1953, twenty-four having been executed, thirty-five imprisoned, ten either missing or dead, eleven drafted into the army, and three having escaped from the country. secular officials and laymen active in church affairs also suffered execution, imprisonment, and harassment. the catholic school system was completely eliminated. this included five secondary schools with a total enrollment of 570 and ten elementary and vocational schools with 2,750 pupils. all catholic associations were suppressed. a severe blow against the catholic church was struck in 1951, when the regime mustered a small group of clergymen to hold a national catholic assembly to draw the statute for the church. as approved by the council of ministers on july 30 of that year, the statute provided that the "catholic church of albania has a national character ... [and that] it shall no longer have any organizational, political, or economic relations with the pope." the statute provided further that the church was to be directed both in religious and administrative matters by a new catholic episcopate, that relations concerning religious questions could be established only through governmental channels, and that the church would submit to the canon law of the world catholic church only if the provisions of this law did not contradict the laws of the people's republic of albania. enver hoxha himself spearheaded the campaign against the catholic church. in 1952, for example, he purged tuk jakova, the only catholic member of the politburo and previously one of hoxha's closest collaborators, because he had allegedly befriended the catholic clergy. in his speech to the second party congress in 1952, in an attempt to justify jakova's purge, hoxha said: "comrade tuk jakova, in contradiction to the political line of the party and of the state concerning religion generally and the catholic clergy in particular, has not properly understood and has not properly acted against the catholic clergy. without seeing the great danger of the reactionary clergy, comrade tuk jakova has not hated them in sufficient measure...." a new policy aimed at the complete destruction of organized religion was enunciated by hoxha in a speech to the party's central committee on february 6, 1967. calling for an intensified cultural-education struggle against religious beliefs and declaring that the only religion for an albanian should be albanianism, he assigned the antireligious mission to the youth movement. by may of the same year religious institutions were forced to relinquish 2,169 churches, mosques, cloisters, and shrines, most of which were converted into cultural centers for young people. as the literary monthly _nendori_ (november) in its september 1967 issue reported the event, the youth had thus "created the first atheist nation in the world." according to western correspondents in tirana, the procedure employed in seizing the places of worship was to assemble the villagers or parishioners in order to discuss hoxha's speech and to take measures to eliminate what the regime referred to as harmful survivals of religious customs. a decision was then taken to ask the government for permission to close a church, mosque, or monastery. a few days later the government, stating that it was following the will of the people, would issue orders to close the house of worship. drastic measures were reportedly taken in cases where the clergy opposed the government order. the strongest resistance came from the catholic clergy, resulting in the detention of some twenty priests. the cloister of the franciscan order in shkoder was set afire in the spring of 1967, resulting in the death of four monks. the catholic cathedral in tirana had its facade removed, and on june 4, 1967, it was taken over by the government and converted into a museum. a similar fate befell the catholic cathedrals in shkoder and durres. after the seizure of the houses of worship, the younger clergymen were forced to seek work either in industry or agricultural collectives. the elder clergy were ordered to return to their birthplaces, which they could not leave without permission from the authorities. monsignor ernest coba, bishop of shkoder and acknowledged head of the catholic church in albania, was evicted from the cathedral in april 1967 and was forced to seek work as a gardener on a collective farm. he was still alive but ailing at the end of 1969. by the beginning of 1970 the provision of the constitution concerning freedom of religion was ostensibly in effect, but government decrees had made such a provision a dead issue. on november 22, 1967, a significant measure was taken that apparently aimed at delivering the coup de grace to formal religious institutions. on that day _gazeta zyrtare_, the government's official gazette, published decree no. 4337 of the presidium of the people's assembly entitled, "on the abrogation of certain decrees." specifically, the new decree annulled all previous decrees dealing with organized religion, thus removing official sanction from religious bodies and, in effect, placing them outside the law. the 1949 decree on religion had provided for subsidies from the state to the three religious denominations. these subsidies had become indispensable for their survival because their property and all other material means of subsistence had been confiscated and nationalized in 1945, and without state help the churches could not function. concurrent with the official moves against religions, a number of antireligious brochures and pamphlets were prepared and distributed by the democratic front in an effort to prepare the people for the attacks on their religious institutions. even though organized religion had been destroyed by the end of 1967, the regime was still struggling as of early 1970 to eradicate religious thought and beliefs. the _nendori_ article that proclaimed the creation of the first atheist state in the world admitted that "despite the hard blows religion had suffered through the destruction of its material institutions, religious ideology is still alive." hoxha himself has often admitted that antireligious measures and the closing of places of worship have not sufficed to eradicate religious beliefs. thus, addressing the fourth congress of the democratic front in september 1967, he declared that it was misleading to hold that religion consisted of church, mosque, priests, icons, and the like, and that if all of these disappeared, then automatically religion and its influence on the people would vanish. the struggle against religious beliefs, he added, had not ended because for centuries they had been deeply rooted in the conscience of the people. hoxha reverted to the subject again in his speech to the party's central committee plenum in june 1969, devoted to reforming the school system, in which he said that one of the aims of the reorganized schools would be to bring up the new generation imbued with scientific and theoretical knowledge; for, according to hoxha, religious beliefs could be eradicated only through the elimination of old concepts still prevalent in the minds of the people. at the beginning of 1970 party leaders in their speeches and in the press were continuing to call for an intensification of the struggle against religious ideology and especially for the eradication of every religious influence or belief among students, who were still under the influence of parents. the older generation, according to the leadership, continued to entertain the religious beliefs that everything in nature has been created with a predetermined purpose by god. the press has also reported on several occasions that there was strong resistance to the closing of places of worship and that the clergy resorted to all kinds of subterfuge to continue their religious activities. chapter 6 government structure and political system political power in 1970 was solely in the hands of the ruling elite, that is, the leadership of the communist party (officially the albanian workers' party). no political, economic, or social activity occurred without the sanction of the party. although the facade of a people's republic under constitutional rule was established in 1946, the reality of a rigid police state was clearly evident from the beginning, and no true democratic processes had been allowed to develop. the greatly heralded people's assembly, people's councils, and people's courts were elected from a list of party candidates; only one candidate was presented for each office, and there was no popular selection or popular choice. in effect, the party was the government and directed all aspects of the lives of the people--from the cradle to the grave. the governmental structure and political system of the albanian people's republic have their roots in the national liberation movement, which came into existence during the italian and german occupations of world war ii. communist party members dominated the leadership and, while combating italian and german occupiers, fought against other national resistance groups for postwar control of the country. enver hoxha, first secretary of the albanian workers' party in 1970, and mehmet shehu, premier and second ranking party member, were wartime leaders of the communist resistance forces. superior organization and the establishment of crude governing bodies called national liberation councils facilitated the communist takeover of the country after the cessation of hostilities. these councils later became the basis of the postwar governmental structure. the communists moved rapidly after the end of the war to prevent the reestablishment of the monarchy and to secure their own position of power. operating under the banner of a mass organization known as the democratic front, the communist party strengthened its hold on the country and in early 1946 promulgated a constitution based on yugoslav and soviet models. this constitution provided for a unicameral legislature, a collective executive branch, and an independent judiciary. actually, the albanian workers' party, formerly the communist party, which is mentioned in the constitution as "the vanguard organization of the working class," uses the formal governmental structure as the instrument for governing the nation and for implementing its own policies. the albanian people's republic in its twenty-five years as a communist nation has remained as rigidly authoritarian and stalinist in its approach to government as it was at the end of world war ii. the party is all pervasive, the leadership is glorified to an extreme degree, and party pronouncements are treated as infallible doctrine. the average citizen casts his ballot in periodic elections for local and national offices, but two conditions invariably exist: a candidate for office is a member of the party, and only one name is listed for any particular office. it has become standard practice for well over 99 percent of the electorate to vote and for over 99 percent of those voting to approve the single candidate. absolute control of the government, the economy, and the cultural life of the country is assured by a system that places the leading officers of the party in the top positions of government. albanian history as a communist state can be divided into three distinct phases based on outside influence: the yugoslav period, the soviet period, and the chinese period. yugoslav influence began with the founding in 1941 of the albanian communist party, in which some yugoslav nationals played leading roles, and lasted until yugoslavia's expulsion from the cominform in 1948. from 1948 until 1961 the albanians looked to the soviet union for assistance and advice, and after 1961 communist china became the foreign power wielding greatest influence in the country. in 1970 albania continued as the only european ally of communist china. hoxha and shehu continued the harsh polemics with the soviet union; made tentative gestures of friendship toward yugoslavia; continued their tirades against western imperialism; and, in general, tried to present themselves to the world as the embodiment of true marxism-leninism. formal structure of government the people's assembly the constitution established the people's assembly as the legislative branch of the government and refers to it as "the highest organ of state power." representatives to the assembly are elected from a single list of party-selected candidates for a term of four years in a ratio of 1 representative for every 8,000 inhabitants. the assembly meets in two regularly scheduled sessions annually, and there is constitutional provision for the convening of extraordinary sessions. all legislative power is vested in the people's assembly, although proposals for legislation and for constitutional amendments can be made by the presidium of the people's assembly or the council of ministers, as well as by members of the assembly itself. bills become laws after an affirmative vote by a simple majority of the assembly, but an amendment to the constitution requires a two-thirds vote. in practice, the assembly listens to the reading of bills drawn up by its presidium and then votes unanimous approval. the assembly elects officers to preside over its meetings and direct its affairs. usually a chairman, two vice chairmen, and a secretary are elected for the four-year term of the assembly. the chairman of the people's assembly in 1970 was abdyl kellezi, who was concurrently a candidate member of the party, political bureau (politburo). one of the two vice chairmen and the secretary were also members of the party central committee. the assembly has the power to appoint commissions, to carry out specific functions, or to conduct investigations. the presidium the constitution provides that the people's assembly elect its presidium, which is made up of a president, two vice presidents, a secretary, and ten members. the president of the presidium becomes the titular chief of state and, in 1970, this office was held by haxhi leshi, a member of the party central committee. enver hoxha was one of the ten members of the presidium, and a majority of the other presidium members concurrently held high party positions. because of the infrequent and short meetings of the assembly and because the real power, that is party power, is held by the presidium, it has become the actual legislative branch of government. the presidium performs several functions besides that of conducting the affairs of the assembly between sessions. it calls for the elections of representatives to the assembly and convenes its sessions. it has the power to issue decrees and to ratify international treaties. the presidium also appoints or recalls diplomats, receives credentials and letters of recall of foreign diplomats, and appoints and recalls the supreme commander of the armed forces. between sessions of the assembly, the presidium is empowered to decree general mobilization and a state of war and to appoint and relieve ministers as proposed by the premier. the presidium also designates ministry jurisdiction over various enterprises according to the recommendations of the premier. the council of ministers the council of ministers, referred to as the government in the constitution, is the highest executive organ and constitutionally is appointed by, and responsible to, the people's assembly or its presidium. the chairman of the council of ministers, by virtue of his position, is also the premier or prime minister. mehmet shehu, who assumed this position in 1954, still held it in 1970. shehu was also a member of the politburo of the party central committee. the council of ministers is composed of the chairman, three deputy chairmen, thirteen ministers, and the chairman of the state planning commission, who has ministerial rank. the constitution provides for the establishment of new ministries and the abolishment or combining of old ones. the council of ministers, as a unit, is constitutionally responsible for preparing the overall economic plan and the budget, which must then be approved by the people's assembly. after approval, which is pro forma and usually granted without discussion or debate, the council is responsible for implementation. the council also directs the monetary system; assures protection of citizens rights and the maintenance of public order; directs the organization of the army; oversees foreign relations; and, in effect, administers the entire economic and cultural life of the nation. the interlocking of the party with the council of ministers has been standard practice since its inception. in 1970 eight of the seventeen principal officers of the council were members or candidate members of the politburo, six were central committee members, and the remaining three were regular members of the party. with every key position occupied by a politburo member, the party elite maintained direct control over the entire governmental structure. local government people's councils are the constitutional agencies on the local level. elected for three-year terms to administer districts, cities, and villages, they are responsible to their constituencies as well as to the higher organs of state power. according to the constitution, the councils are charged with economic and cultural matters and direct the affairs of the administrative organs within their jurisdictions. councils are responsible for maintaining public order, for implementing laws, and for drawing up local budgets. the constitution also requires that the councils call periodic meetings of their constituents to keep the people informed on council activities. each council chooses an executive committee from among its membership, and it is through this committee that the actual work of local government is accomplished. other committees or departments may be established at the discretion of the executive committee for the performance of specific tasks or for the supervision of a particular enterprise. in performing such functions, the special committees and departments are constitutionally responsible to the people's councils and to corresponding sections at higher levels of the bureaucracy. the people's councils are elected from lists of the local organizations of the albanian workers' party. court system the people's court system consists of the supreme court and courts at each of the territorial subdivisions. other types of courts may be created by law. the constitution provides that the people's courts are independent of the administration. a law on the organization of the courts passed in 1968, however, specified that the "people's courts will be guided in their activities by the policy of the party. in carrying out their responsibilities, they must strongly rely on the working masses and submit to their criticism and control." decisions are made collegially. in cases where the supreme court and district courts have original jurisdiction--that is, when a case is to be first heard by them--assistant judges participate in the ruling, unless the case is such that the law specifically states otherwise. people's courts at the village and city levels decide cases with the participation of an assistant judge from the district court and two so-called social activists, who are actually local party members. if a case is before the supreme court by appeal, three judges make the verdict; when a case is before a district court by appeal, assistant judges participate. trials are generally open to the public. in order to facilitate the political and social education of the population, courts are held in places of employment, villages, and any other place that makes them more accessible to the people. assistant judges from the district courts and several social activists make up the village and city courts. the social activists are elected for one-year terms by a people's meeting. this level of the court system has jurisdiction over minor social crimes and simple civil cases. the district courts are composed of a chairman, judges, and assistant judges. the judges are elected for three-year terms by the general population, and the people's council appoints the chairman from among the elected judges. the district courts have original jurisdiction in all penal and civil cases unless otherwise specified by law. they also hear appeals from lower court decisions. military courts, called military collegiums, are appointed by the presidium of the people's assembly to operate at the district level. they are composed of a military judge and several military assistant judges. these courts have original jurisdiction over crimes committed by military personnel. the highest court is the supreme court. it has original jurisdiction in important cases that the chairman of the supreme court takes over from the district courts. it also hears appeals from the rulings of all lower courts. supreme court judges are elected for four-year terms by the people's assembly. the court consists of a chairman, deputy chairmen, and assistant judges, the exact number being determined by the presidium of the people's assembly. the supreme court is broken down into collegiums to handle different types of cases, such as penal, civil, and military. it also sits in a plenum in order to issue directives concerning legal practices, to hear appeals from decisions made by its collegium, and to study the operation of the court system in its entirety. political dynamics the dictatorship of the proletariat as officially defined by the constitution, the state is a form of dictatorship of the proletariat. the power of the state constitutionally belongs to the workers and peasants, represented locally by the people's councils, which supposedly make up the political base of the state. in legislation and in official documents dealing with elections, it has been stated that the people not only enjoy freedom of choice concerning candidates but also have the right to supervise the work of their elected representatives and the right of recall if they are dissatisfied. in practice, such people's democracy does not exist, and the dictatorship of the proletariat--that is, the rule of the people over themselves--is a facade behind which the real dictatorship of the party elite operates. the constitution provides for direct, secret vote to elect representatives to all governmental bodies, from the people's councils in villages to the highest organ of the state, the people's assembly. the voters themselves do nothing on their part to be registered in the electoral lists. these lists are drawn up for every type of election by the people's councils and are supposed to include all citizens who reach age eighteen on or before the day of the elections. the democratic character of these elections is allegedly guaranteed by the procedure or right for nominating candidates. this right legally belongs to the party, the democratic front, trade unions, and social organizations and is exercised by the central organs of these organizations and their organs in the districts. nominations, with party approval, also are made at the general meetings of workers and employees in the enterprises and state farms, of soldiers in their detachments, and of peasants in their agricultural collectives or villages. all meetings for the selection of candidates are held under the auspices of the democratic front, in whose name all the candidates are presented for election. the only legal requirement of a candidate is that he enjoy the right to election, that the organization which proposes him confirm its intention in writing, and that he accept his candidacy for that of the assembly was a "vivid expression of the socialist democ-him. in practice, all candidates are preselected, and the meetings simply confirm the party choice. political power, according to official documents, is thus vested in the broad masses who, through various organizations to which they belong, choose the candidates to be elected to all state organs, including the people's courts. the candidate who receives one more vote than half the number of voters registered in the electoral zone is proclaimed the winner and becomes, in theory, the agent representing the sovereignty of the people. the highest organ of state power, according to official dogma, is the people's assembly, composed of representatives elected by direct vote who exercise the sovereignty and will of the people. the aim of the people's assembly, this dogma alleges, is to carry out the main functions of directing and supervising the people's democratic state. the assembly's sphere of action includes practically all the political, economic, social, and cultural fields through the passage of laws. "these laws," according to an official document published in 1964, "on their part determine the juridical form of the line pursued by the albanian workers' party in building socialism in albania." the same document that stated that the laws passed by the assembly were but the juridical form of party policies declared that the concentration of all state power in the hands of the assembly was a "vivid expression of the socialist democracy of the state system of the people's republic of albania." another document, published in 1963, asserted that economic power and political power were indivisible and that a combination of the two formed the state power. the representative nature of the socialist state, the document declared, was rooted in the socialist economic basis of the country, derived from the state ownership of the means of production and from the property of the cooperative and collective organizations, principally the agricultural collectives. all mines and subsoil resources, waters, forests and pastures, industrial enterprises, the means of air, rail, and sea communications, post, telegraph, telephones, radio broadcasting stations, and banks had become the property of the people. it is thus the contention of the regime that the creation of the socialist sector of the economy not only placed all economic levers in the hands of the people but also altered old relations in production, resulting in a planned organization of the economy. economic planning, it is argued, makes possible the elimination of exploitation of man by man. also, through the planned organization of the economy the people are guaranteed the right to work. with a view to regulating relations in work, the regime passed a series of legislative acts that were subsequently embodied in the labor code. as a result of this legislation, it was asserted, conflicts between a worker and an enterprise were no longer possible, for the enterprise was the property of the state and the state was of and for the worker. accordingly, both the worker and the enterprise strove to achieve the same results, namely, to increase production and improve the material and cultural conditions of all the workers. to assure their own welfare, the workers in turn had to assume certain obligations; they were duty bound to guard socialist property, which was the "sacred and inviolate basis of the people's democracy, the source of power of the homeland and of the welfare and culture of the workers." the theoretical mechanism evolved for the exercise of power through freely elected representatives had no resemblance to the actual locus of power and the state institutions created to wield this power. the source of political and economic power was neither the workers and peasants nor the organs presumably elected by them. a perfect example was the actual power and influence of the people's assembly, to which official documents attributed the power to appoint all the higher state organs and on which all state organs were dependent. in actual practice, the people's assembly held only two sessions a year, each lasting about two days; the delegates heard reports made by party and government officials, approved without debate all bills and appointments presented to them, and then adjourned. the presidium of the people's assembly was also given wide constitutional powers in the fields of legislation and control of the state apparatus, but in reality its main function was to promulgate draft laws submitted to it by the council of ministers. the albanian workers' party national organization the real source of all power was the party, whose all-powerful politburo was the country's top policymaking body. but even this body, composed of eleven regular and five candidate members, was under the firm control of party first secretary enver hoxha, who has headed the party since it was founded on november 8, 1941, and prime minister mehmet shehu, who emerged as the military strategist in the communist-dominated army of national liberation during world war ii. although hoxha, as first secretary and as the only surviving member of the small group of communists who founded the party, was considered the leader and the foremost albanian marxist-leninist, he and shehu have shared almost equal power since 1949 (see ch. 2, historical setting). the real base of their power has rested in the security and armed forces, and hoxha and shehu have divided this power. as minister of defense until 1953, hoxha personally controlled the armed forces, and since then he has controlled them through beqir balluku, his lieutenant (see ch. 9, internal and external security). shehu, as minister of the interior from 1948 to 1954, personally controlled the security forces, composed of the directorate of state security (drejtorija e sigurimit te shtetit, commonly known as the sigurimi), the people's police, and the frontier guards. since then he has controlled them through his brother-in-law major general kadri hasbiu, who succeeded shehu as minister of the interior in 1954 and who still held that position in 1970. the top executive branches of the politburo were the four-man secretariat and the various directorates of the central committee. in 1970 the secretariat was composed of hoxha as first secretary and ramiz alia, hysni kapo, and xhafer spahiu as secretaries. hoxha supervised the whole work of the secretariat; the other three secretaries were responsible for general areas of operation. alia was responsible for ideological affairs, kapo for organizational matters, and spahiu for the state administration. policy guidelines adopted by the politburo were passed by the secretariat to the appropriate directorate, which elaborated and drafted them in final form for implementation by the respective party and state organs. the directorates had direct connections with all implementing bodies. for instance, the directorate of agitation and propaganda, known as agitprop, issued directives not only to the agitprop sections of the district party committees but also to all propaganda outlets in the government, mass organizations, and the armed and security forces. the most important directorates were the: directorate of cadres and organizations, headed by hysni kapo, the third ranking man in the party hierarchy; directorate of agitation and propaganda, headed by ramiz alia; directorate of education and culture, headed by nexhmije hoxha, wife of the first secretary; directorate of state administrative organs, headed by llazi stratoberdha; and directorate of mass organizations, headed by politburo member adil carcani. when important policy issues were decided by the politburo, special commissions were created in the central committee to draft implementing guidance for a specific decision. thus, for instance, in the spring of 1968 the politburo decided on a complete reorganization and reorientation of the country's educational system. a central commission on education was immediately created in the party central committee; the commission was headed by prime minister mehmet shehu and included some fifty experts in the ideological, academic, and military aspects of education. after a year's work the commission completed its report and, in june 1969, submitted it to the central committee, which gave its formal stamp of approval. in december of the same year the government submitted a bill to the people's assembly for the reorganization of the educational system; in its preamble the bill said that it was based on the report of the previous june as approved by the party central committee (see ch. 5, social system). the central committee was the next highest echelon in importance in the party organization. in 1970 it was composed of sixty-one regular and thirty-six candidate members. it was to the central committee that the politburo submitted its policy decisions for formal approval. as a rule, in recent years the central committee has approved politburo reports and decisions with little, if any, debate. but there have been occasions when the central committee has been called upon to decide on issues of the utmost importance for the country. for example, in february 1948 the central committee was convened to discuss and decide the issue of a possible merger of albania with yugoslavia. although the forces favoring such a merger were in the majority, the dissenting voices were sufficient to block the proposed merger. another central committee meeting, held in september of the same year, purged the top party group that had advocated the merger with yugoslavia. a similar crucial issue arose in the fall of 1961 on the question of relations with the soviet union. the central committee approved the politburo decision to break with moscow and issued a declaration to that effect. the party's ideological principles, tasks, and organizational structure were delineated in the party's statute, originally adopted by the first party congress in 1948 and amended several times since then. in it, control by the party was detailed specifically, and the statute rather than the constitution was the fundamental law of the land. according to the statute, the highest leading organ of each organization was: the general meeting for the basic party organizations; the conference for the party organizations of districts and cities; and the congress for the entire party. the guiding principle of the ideological and organizational structure of the party was the leninist dictum known as democratic centralism. as described in the statute, this principle provided in theory that the leading organs of the party were elected from bottom to top at general meetings, conferences, and congresses; these organs were obliged from time to time to give account of their activities before their party organizations. strict party discipline was to be maintained under any circumstances, the minority being subject to the majority; decisions were to be reached on the basis of so-called free discussions but, from the moment a decision was reached, unanimously or by a majority of votes, all party members were obliged to execute it without question; and the decisions of the higher party organs were binding on the lower organs. the statute also provided that collective leadership was the highest principle of the leadership of the party and that the elected organs as well as the basic party organizations examined and solved collectively all party problems. the party statute considered the party congress as the highest party organ. the congress, usually called every four years, heard, examined, and approved the reports of the central committee and of other central party organs; reviewed and made changes in the party program and statute; determined the party's tactical line on major policy problems; and elected the central committee and the central control and auditing commission and fixed the number of members of these two bodies. in actual practice, however, the party congress merely heard and approved reports submitted by the politburo. according to the statute, the central committee, which should meet in plenum at least once every four months, performed such formal functions as electing both the politburo for guiding the affairs of the central committee between sessions and the secretariat for "guiding the day-to-day affairs of the party, especially for organizing the control of the execution of decisions and for the selection of cadres." during the period between two congresses the central committee guided the activities of the party; represented the party in its relationships with other parties, organizations, and institutions; organized and guided different party institutions; named the editors of the party's central press organs and granted permission for publication of the local party press; distributed the cadres and the means of the party and administered the central treasury; and guided and controlled the activities of the central organs of the people's democratic authority and social organizations by means of party groups in them. regional organization regionally, the highest party organ is the party conference at district and city levels, which is supposed to meet once a year and is comparable to the party congress at the national level. in practice, the periodic party conference becomes a pro forma meeting held for the purpose of displaying unanimity of opinion. between conferences, operations are conducted by party committees, and real power is exercised by a bureau of each committee that usually consists of about eleven members, who must first be approved by the party central committee in tirana. bureau membership includes two secretaries who are the leading communist officials in the city or district and, by virtue of their positions, the most powerful individuals. the principal functions of the district or city committees are to guide the activities of all party organizations in the district or town so as to assure the precise application of the party line; approve the establishment of basic party organizations; maintain records on members and look after their ideological and political education; distribute within the district or city the party cadres; and administer the party finances. more importantly, the district or city committee guides and regulates the activities and work of the local governmental bodies and social organizations by means of party groups within them. the statute describes the basic party organizations as the foundations of the party because they serve to link the working masses of the town and village with the party. the basic party organizations are established in factories and plants, agricultural enterprises, machine tractor stations, villages, units of the armed and security forces, state administration, schools, and other work centers where there were no less than three party members. when deemed necessary and where there are less than three party members, there can be created joint groups of the party and of the union of albanian working youth. these groups are directed by a party member chosen by the district or city committee. the basic party organizations are assigned a multitude of duties and responsibilities. they must ensure that party orders are fully implemented, the masses are politically oriented, the communists obtain the required ideological and political education, new members are accepted into the party, the masses are mobilized in production work, the activities of the mass organizations are checked and guided, and control is exercised over all economic sectors and over all local governmental bodies. the statute provides that in the armed forces party affairs are to be directed by the political directorate of the ministry of people's defense and in the ministry of the interior they are to be directed by appropriate political organs. party organizations in the armed forces operate on the basis of special instructions issued by the party's central committee. all chiefs of political branches in military units and installations must be party members with no less than five years of membership. the political organs in the military units are required to maintain close contact with the local party committees (see ch. 9, internal and external security). the latest official figures for party membership were given by party first secretary hoxha in his report to the fifth party congress in 1966. he placed the total membership at 66,327, of which 3,314 were candidate members. since the fourth party congress in 1961 the membership had grown by 12,688. according to hoxha, the social composition of the party membership was as follows: workers, 32.9 percent; collective farmers, 25.8 percent; private farmers, 3.2 percent; state, party, and mass organization officials and armed forces personnel, 37.2 percent; and students and housewives, 0.9 percent. of the total party membership, women comprised 12.5 percent. hoxha also said that nearly 68 percent of all communists lived in cities and only 32 percent in villages, despite the fact, he commented, that the rural population was three times as large as that of the cities. party operations a fundamental factor in the party's exercise of political power and control is the selection of candidates for all elected positions. although the candidates for such elective organs as the people's assembly, the people's courts, and the people's councils at all levels are formally nominated by the meetings of mass organizations or of workers and peasants, they have been, in fact, handpicked by the local party organizations and approved by the party central committee. the procedure at all nominating meetings is standard and simple: a list of candidates, previously prepared by the party district or city committee, is read; the qualifications of each candidate are described; and the list is unanimously approved. since the first national and local elections held in 1945 in which the list of candidates included non-party people, lists have been restricted to party members only. veterans of hoxha's partisan forces of the so-called war of national liberation still predominate among candidates for office. a similar situation prevails with regard to the appointment of government officials. after each national election, the people's assembly has appointed a new government. the procedure for this appointment has never varied: at the first meeting of the new people's assembly the party first secretary has submitted for approval the list of the new ministers, which invariably has received unanimous approval. because of purges in the top echelons of the party, especially in the late 1940s and early 1950s, the government list has undergone several changes. since the elimination of the pro-yugoslav faction in 1948, however, these changes have affected mostly the technical and economic ministries. the three key posts in the government, however--namely, those of prime minister, minister of the interior, and minister of defense--have been consistently held by enver hoxha and mehmet shehu or their trusted lieutenants. the appointment of all government officials as well as the managers of the state economic enterprises rested formally with the agencies involved, but no official has been appointed without the prior approval of the appropriate party organization. in reality, all key positions are held by party cadres who have been selected and appointed by the party district or city committees. the party statute empowers the basic party organizations in all governmental organs and economic enterprises to check and guide the activities of all officials and to see that they are properly oriented in the political and ideological fields. the prime requisite in filling these positions is party loyalty. party schools in 1970 the party operated a number of schools and courses for its cadres as well as three research and study institutes, attached to the central committee. the highest school was the v.i. lenin institute, headed by fiqrete shehu, wife of the prime minister. it was attended by the higher and more promising party members. the three party institutes were the institute of marxist-leninist studies, headed by nexhmije hoxha, wife of enver hoxha; the institute of party history, headed by ndreci plasari, who was also editor in chief of the party's theoretical monthly, _rruga e partise_ (party path); and the institute for economic studies, under the direction of myqerem fuga. in addition, there were a number of secondary party schools for training low-level party functionaries and one-year schools for refresher ideological courses, attended both by party officials and leaders of mass organizations. the party also operated intermittently, as the need arose, political courses and study groups for its activists and propagandists. in 1969, for example, more than 20,000 study centers were organized throughout the country for the study of the official, newly published _history of the workers' party of albania_. the teaching program of all the party schools and study centers included such topics as the importance of communist education; the origins and development of communist morality; socialist attitudes toward work and property; the importance of patriotic education; the history, theories, and tactics of the international communist movement; and the history and statutes of the party. mass organizations in its exercise of power and control over every phase of the people's lives, the party also utilizes several mass, or social, organizations, the most important of which are the democratic front, the union of albanian working youth, the union of albanian women, and the united trade unions of albania. in a speech at the fourth congress of the democratic front held in september 1967, enver hoxha said that the mass organizations, as components of the system of the dictatorship of the proletariat were "levers of the party for its ties with the masses" and that they carried out their political, executive, and organizational work in such a way as to enable the party directives to be correctly understood and implemented by all segments of the population. party secretary hysni kapo, in a speech delivered at a party seminar in january 1970, declared that the party carried out its mission through its own organizations and through the activities of its "levers, the mass organizations, such as the trade unions, youth, democratic front, women's, and the people's councils," thus revealing that even the people's councils were mere party levers. by relying on these powerful levers, kapo added, the party guaranteed its links with the masses and obtained their support for its policies. he remarked further that, although there were not communists in every family in the country, everyone in the family belonged to some kind of organization. the party has set the implementation of its line as a general primary goal for all mass organizations. considered as powerful party levers, they are required to convey the party line to the people and to bring to the party the people's attitudes and grievances. as party instruments they must mobilize, organize, and orient the people during the process of the building of socialism. the mass organizations also assist the party in its control over the administration and management of state enterprises and initiate new actions and new movements in all work centers. the party places particular importance on the union of albanian working youth, described officially in such terms as the "greatest revolutionary force of inexhaustible strength," a "strong fighting reserve of the party," and a "vital force of our revolution." according to the party statute, the union operates directly under the guidance of the party, and the union's local organizations are guided and checked by the appropriate district or city party committees. organized in the same way as the party, the union has parallel basic organizations, district and city committees, a central committee, a politburo, and a central control and auditing commission. in 1967 official reports credited the youth organization with 210,000 members, ranging in age from fifteen to twenty-five and, in a few cases, even older. the main function of the union is to select and prepare future party members. it is also required by the party to control all pioneer organizations, which embrace all children from seven to fourteen years of age; to see to it that all party directives and policies are implemented by the country's youth, especially in schools and in military units; and to mobilize the youth into so-called voluntary labor brigades to work on production projects. the party often gives the union special storm trooper or red guard types of missions to perform. for example, in february 1967 enver hoxha assigned to the organization the mission of shutting down all places of worship in the country; within a period of a few months, the union had accomplished its mission. the democratic front, successor to the national liberation front, was defined by enver hoxha, who has headed it since 1945 and was still its president in 1970, as the greatest political revolutionary organization of the albanian people and as a powerful weapon of the party for the political union of the people. in 1970 the democratic front continued to be a key element in the party's control mechanism. considered officially as the broadest mass organization, it was supposed to give expression to the political views of the entire population and to serve as a school for mass political education. the tasks and objectives of the democratic front, as set forth in its statute and as constantly reiterated by party leaders, include the strengthening of political unity among the people and the mobilizing of the people for the implementation of party policies. the spreading of the marxist-leninist ideology is also a task of the front, as is the purging of any attitudes that are considered backward and reactionary. in essence, the front is an instrument of the party, expressly designed for the political control of the entire population. enver hoxha declared in a speech to the fourth congress of the democratic front in 1967 that all citizens over age eighteen were members of the front, including party members and members of all other mass organizations. the union of albanian women is also referred to as a powerful weapon of the party. the union, headed in 1970 by vito kapo, wife of secretary of the party central committee hysni kapo, controls and supervises the political and social activities of the country's women, handles their ideological training, and spearheads the party's campaign for the emancipation of women. the campaign was launched by hoxha in june 1967 and renewed in october 1969 in a hoxha speech to the party central committee. the union of albanian women, according to reports by visitors has a good record of assistance to the party in making legal, economic, and social equality for women a reality. by 1970 women shared responsibility in the government at all levels, had entered all the professions, and worked side by side with men for equal pay in most occupations. by 1967 the union was able to boast that more than 284,000 women took part in production in some way, mostly in industrial plants and agricultural collectives. in the same year there were about 40 women, out of a total of 240 deputies, in the people's assembly; 1,878 women in the people's councils; and 1,170 in the people's courts. since 1967 task forces of women from the cities have been dispatched to tour backward regions, particularly the highlands, explaining the party's line on the emancipation of albanian women. reforms such as giving women equal rights to inherit property, an equal voice in the people's councils, and equal political rights, however, have created considerable hostility in a country where man has traditionally been the master of the family. the tasks of the united trade unions are similar to those of the democratic front, albeit on a more limited scale. during ceremonies in february 1970 marking the twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of the trade unions, it was stated that they were created by the party, that they had since struggled to implement the party line, and that they recognized the party leadership as the "decisive factor of their force and vitality." it was stated further that they were created jointly with the dictatorship of the proletariat for its consolidation and defense and as an important component part of this dictatorship. in a conference in tirana on february 10, 1970, gogo nushi, then president of the trade unions, boasted that they had become powerful levers of the party in implementing the party line among all the country's workers, who had grown from some 30,000 in february 1945 to about 400,000 in february 1970. at the same conference politburo member adil carcani, in a speech dealing with the functions of the trade unions, attributed to them the task of exercising control over all workers. other duties and responsibilities of the trade unions in 1970, according to tonin jakova, general secretary of the general council of the united trade unions of albania, were to carry out the political and ideological education of the workers; to influence all the other strata of the population so that the class ideology should gradually become the sole ideology of the society; to broaden their control and sphere of action in all fields of life--political, ideological, cultural, artistic, social, economic, and educational; to increase labor productivity by increasing work norms; and to struggle against old traditions and backward customs, with emphasis on religious beliefs. in listing the duties and responsibilities of the trade unions not a word was said about their safeguarding the interests of the workers, such as improving their living and bargaining with the management. organizationally, the united trade unions of albania was composed in 1970 of three general unions--the trade union of workers of industry and construction, consisting of workers in industry, mines, construction, and transportation; the trade union of workers of education and trade, made up of the workers in the state administration, trade, health, education, and culture; and the trade union of workers of agriculture and procurements, composed of workers in agriculture, forestry, and procurements. over 2,000 individual trade union organizations existed in enterprises, factories, plants, offices, schools, and other work centers and cultural and social institutions. in the exercise of political power through the party, the mass organizations, the state organs, and the security and armed forces, the tirana rulers have consistently followed stalinist methods of rule. in major policy speeches these rulers have in recent years often praised stalin's political system and have consistently attempted to emulate it in albania. as _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people) phrased it on april 13, 1963, "without reinstating stalin and his work, [throughout the communist world] our revolutionary movement and the cause of marxism-leninism can make no headway." foreign relations after centuries of foreign domination, albania in 1912 was ill prepared for independence, and the chaos brought by the balkan wars and by world war i allowed little opportunity for the development of statehood. one of its first moves in foreign relations was to secure support for its independence from some of the great powers of europe. in the years between world war i and world war ii, albanian foreign policy was dominated by the italians. in the years immediately after world war ii, albania was a satellite of yugoslavia, which in turn was a satellite of the soviet union. this situation deprived albania of any initiative in foreign affairs, and it remained out of the mainstream of eastern european affairs until 1948, when ties with yugoslavia were broken and albania became a full-fledged satellite of the soviet union. albania's position vis-ã -vis the other satellite countries was improved when it came under the direct tutelage of the soviet union; it then became the recipient of economic aid, military assistance, and military and economic advisers, not only from its powerful sponsor but also from the other communist nations. in time it also became a member of the warsaw pact and the council for economic mutual assistance. soviet influence in albanian affairs was pervasive from 1948 to 1960 but, from a material point of view, albania benefited from the relationship. the soviets canceled a large debt and sent aid and advisers to help develop the backward albania economy. internally, the ruling elite, headed by enver hoxha, maintained a rigid regime of the stalinist type. in foreign affairs the country became a cold war participant completely accepting directions from moscow. its thirteen years as a soviet satellite were years of turmoil for albania, particularly after the death of joseph stalin and the rise of nikita khrushchev to the soviet leadership. khrushchev's policy of seeking a rapprochement with yugoslavia worried both hoxha, the party leader, and shehu, the premier, because of the difficulties they had encountered in purging their party of a strong pro-yugoslav faction while in the process of securing their own positions of power. in the albanian view stalin had been a great hero, and tito of yugoslavia, a great villain. khrushchev's denunciation of stalin and wooing of tito brought consternation to tirana, but reliance on soviet aid apparently tempered albanian reactions. during the 1950s the albanian leadership, coaxed by moscow, made some attempts at restoring normal relations with yugoslavia. after the riots in poland and the revolt in hungary in 1956, however, the albanians raised strident voices against yugoslavia's so-called revisionism--that is the alleged perversion of marxism-leninism--which they asserted was the basis for the troubles afflicting eastern europe. according to official albanian dogma the two greatest evils in the world were revisionism and imperialism, personified, respectively, by yugoslavia and the united states. toward the end of the 1950s it became apparent to hoxha and shehu that they were closer ideologically to peking than to moscow, and only the latter's economic aid prevented an open break. in 1960, as khrushchev sought to line up communist parties for a condemnation of communist china, albania refused to participate and, by the end of the year, the soviet-albanian dispute was made known openly. by the end of 1961 diplomatic relations between the two countries were severed, soviet aid ceased, and soviet advisers and technicians left albania, to be replaced by those of communist china. although not formally breaking off diplomatic relations, the other eastern european communist countries also halted aid programs and withdrew advisers. khrushchev then became the object of violent attacks in the albanian press, being castigated as more of a revisionist than tito. khrushchev counterattacked to defend himself but, in addition, used albania as a proxy for violent propaganda blasts that were obviously directed against the chinese communists. after the final break with the soviet union, albania entered the third stage of its communist existence--the alliance with communist china. stages one and two had been as a satellite, first of yugoslavia and then of the soviet union. in stage three, if not a satellite, it was a client of a powerful sponsor. albania, throughout the 1960s and into 1970, continued to require the economic support of an outside power. communist china has provided that support, though apparently on a much reduced scale. in return for chinese support the albanians accept the chinese view of world affairs and speak for their sponsor in eastern europe and in the united nations. albania successfully defied moscow, but its internal and international positions remained weak. in 1968 hoxha withdrew his country from the warsaw pact in protest against the invasion of czechoslovakia, but this was primarily a symbolic move because albania had not participated in warsaw pact affairs since 1961. by 1970 albania was attempting to normalize relations with its balkan neighbors, but its main propaganda thrusts continued to be against revisionism and imperialism. overtures toward both greece and yugoslavia were made in 1970, which may indicate that the hoxha regime recognized the futility and danger of an isolationist policy. official attitudes toward the soviet union remained as they had been for ten years--strident and abusive--but better relations were being sought among eastern european nations as well as with some non-communist states. seemingly the regime recognized that communist china was a distant ally, that the chinese could not support the albanian economy, and that, if albania was to remain a viable national entity, it would have to relate to its european neighbors and, in effect, become a part of europe. chapter 7 communications and cultural development information channels in 1970 were relatively well developed compared with those of the pre-world war ii period. the press was the most advanced, although by 1970 a substantial radio network existed. throughout the 1960s there was only a single experimental television transmitter, at the end of 1969, however, the government reportedly requested the french to install a television system. the press and radio were indispensable instruments in the efforts of the albanian workers' party (communist party) to revolutionize all aspects of life. to supplement the formal channels, there were several thousand party activists who orally transmitted the party line to the people on a more personal and informal level. the various aspects of culture, such as literature, art, music, and drama, were also structured to promote the goals of the party. they have been used extensively to promote support among the masses for the party and its principles, to combat religion, and generally to increase the political and social consciousness of the people. the guidelines set forth by the party for all writers and artists to follow in their creative endeavors are the principles of socialist realism. the general definition of this approach to art and literature is that the form of creative works must be national, but their content must be socialist. the principle of art for art's sake has been rejected by the communist leaders. all cultural developments must reflect the efforts to create a socialist society. the information media are controlled by the party directly or indirectly through the government and such organizations as labor unions, youth groups, and cultural societies. private ownership of such media has been prohibited since the communist regime came to power. nature and functions of the information media the media are invaluable instruments for the achievement of the goals of the communist leaders. when the communist regime came to power in november 1944, it seized control of all such media, although they were not formally nationalized until 1946. from the outset, the press and radio were used to justify and extend communist rule. in general, the function of the media has been to propagate marxist-leninist ideology, as modified to relate to the specific conditions in albania, and to liquidate the traditional religious, social, and economic beliefs of the people (see ch. 4, the people; ch. 2, historical setting). the functions of the media have remained essentially unchanged throughout the twenty-six years of rule by the albanian workers' party. the leaders have used the media extensively in their efforts to revolutionize all aspects of the national life. in this connection, there are many specific functions performed by the press and radio that generally fall into the categories of education, organization, and control. the first functional category has two aspects: the press and radio are instruments of political and social indoctrination, and they help to raise the educational and cultural levels of the masses. in practice, however, these two aspects are often combined--that is, in the process of education, marxist-leninist ideology is usually interjected. in general, the educational function has been performed by conducting campaigns against illiteracy and ignorance, encouraging maximum utilization of the educational and cultural facilities set up throughout the country, and making literary works accessible to the population (see ch. 5, social system). the media, in the final analysis, are used to saturate the population with marxist-leninist ideology. the content of the media--whether it is news, music, or literature--is structured to promote the goals of the party and designed to further the building of a communist society. in order to facilitate ideological indoctrination, content is devised to appeal to sentiments of albanian nationalism. the development of communism, for example, is related to the theme of developing the nation and preserving its independence; and enver hoxha, the party leader, is quoted as frequently as are marx and lenin. one of the most important uses of the press and radio, which falls into the category of organization, has been to mobilize the people actively to support, and participate in, the implementation of specific policies, such as the fulfillment of economic plans or antireligious campaigns. often, in conjunction with mobilization campaigns, the media are used to transmit specific information that is necessary for the implementation of various aspects of the policies. in the economic sphere, for example, discussions of industrial processes or agriculture often appear in the press. the media are also means of party control over officials at all levels of the government and the party hierarchies, as well as over the population in general. this function is performed primarily through exposure of corruption, negligence, and inefficiency on the part of various officials or workers or by issuing warnings against such crimes and behavior. in addition, the press and radio are channels through which the top leaders issue directives or communicate changes in the party line to the lower level administrators and activists throughout the country. the importance of the pervasive role of the press was stressed in the following statement by enver hoxha that was quoted in the december 1965 issue of _rruga e partise_ (party path): "without the press there can be no education of the masses; without the press there can be no conscientious mobilization of them, organization, nor solution to the problems of the economic and cultural construction in the new socialist society." although the article dealt specifically with the press, it can be assumed that the role assigned to it also pertains to the other media of communication. the functions assigned to the media necessitate strict control over their operation and content by the party. although there appears to be no formal institution for censorship, an elaborate system was created whereby the party leaders could maintain the necessary control either directly or indirectly through the government and mass organizations. fragmentary information suggests that the party leaders have several mechanisms for the maintenance of control over the dissemination of information. within the party there is a hierarchical organization that implements decisions made by the party leaders concerning public information and propaganda activities. it is headed by the directorate of agitation and propaganda, which is directly under the central committee of the party. the directorate is divided into various functional sectors, for example, one dealing with the press. throughout the party and government hierarchies, as well as in the mass organizations, there are sections for agitation and propaganda that are directed by the central directorate. the political bureau (politburo), the highest decision-making body of the albanian workers' party, formulates policy concerning ideological indoctrination and the use of the media of mass communication. the directorate of agitation and propaganda coordinates the implementation of such policy (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). perhaps the most effective control mechanism is that which is built into the party structure and in the party's relationship to the government and to society in general. the media are formally owned and operated by the government with the exception of the party press and publications of the mass organizations. since all government officials are members of the party or its front organization, the democratic front, and since the mass organizations are dominated by party members, party supervision of all publications is assured. radio broadcasters, film directors and editors, administrators and editors of the publishing houses, journalists, and newspaper editors are also party members. thus all individuals who work with the mass media, either directly or indirectly, are subject to party discipline. failure to adhere to directives from the politburo is a crime against the party, and punishment for such crimes can be severe (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). to supplement the formal media of communication, there are about 25,000 party agitators who propagandize among the masses. these agitators work in factories, villages, neighborhoods, and on farms with the objective of bringing the party line to every individual. besides explaining the content of the press and radio to the people, the agitators conduct courses, present lectures, and guide discussions on party history, the oppressiveness of religion, friendship with communist china, soviet revisionism, and other such topics. for example, in the weekly meetings held for women, emphasis is placed upon how religion causes discrimination against them. in the factories the agitators explain the party line to their coworkers and rally them to compete to outproduce each other, a practice called socialist competition. agitators in rural areas are usually of peasant origin and consequently are better able to gain the trust of the peasantry. they explain the party line to them in a manner that is relevant to local conditions and mobilize them to produce their quotas. the agitators also sponsor cultural and sports activities, such as organizing trips to museums and arranging for athletic events. when new laws are passed, the agitators explain them to the masses in terms that they will understand. before elections the agitators mobilize the people to go out and vote, even though there is only one candidate on the ballot. to aid the agitators in their work, the _agitators' notebook_ is published monthly listing the various points of the party line which do change from time to time. the agitators also have books, pamphlets, pictures, and films to facilitate the indoctrination of the masses. in addition to the activities of the agitators, the statutes of the albanian workers' party require that all party members work to educate the masses in marxist-leninist ideology. the same requirement is made of the members of the union of albanian working youth. the press the press is the most developed of the information media. according to official statistics, in 1967 there were nineteen newspapers and thirty-four periodicals as compared with six and fifteen, respectively, in 1938. circulation figures per issue for all newspapers and periodicals are not available, but the government statistics indicate that total circulation for newspapers increased by about sixteen times between 1938 and 1967, and the figures for periodicals indicate a sixfold increase for the same period. most publications originate in tirana, although during the 1960s the regime began to establish local newspapers. information on the press is sparse, and it is difficult to ascertain how many publications were in circulation in 1970; there are indications that new publications were added, while others were consolidated after 1967. there are three daily newspapers, all of which are published in tirana (see table 7). _zeri i popullit_ (the voice of the people) is published by the central committee of the albanian workers' party, and in 1967 it had a daily circulation of 86,000. _bashkimi_ (union) is published by the democratic front and is the mouthpiece of the government. it had a daily circulation of 20,000 in 1967. _puna_ (work) is the daily newspaper of the central council of the united trade unions of albania. in 1967 it reportedly had a circulation of 18,000. _zeri i rinise_ (the voice of youth), a twice weekly newspaper of the central committee of the union of albanian working youth, had a circulation of 36,000 in 1967. circulation figures do not necessarily give an accurate picture, however, because many of the subscriptions are held by institutions, libraries, and cultural houses rather than by individuals. factories, farms, schools, and other institutions have reading rooms with subscriptions to newspapers and magazines. in addition, the party agitators frequently read articles aloud to groups. thus there is greater exposure to the press than the circulation figures indicate. local newspapers are all published by the local party committees. examples of such newspapers are: _jeta e re_ (new life), published in shkoder; _perpara_ (forward), published in korce; _pararoja_ (vanguard), published in gjirokaster; and _adriatic_, which is published in durres. these newspapers have been assigned the function of explaining party policies in relation to the specific conditions found in the various localities. they also propagandize against religion and such so-called crimes as laziness and indifference. local newspapers give a great deal of attention to the economic, social, cultural, and political problems that are specific to their districts. _table 7. selected albanian newspapers, 1967_ ------------------------------------------------------------------- newspaper frequency publisher circulation ------------------------------------------------------------------- _zeri i popullit_ daily central committee 86,000 (the voice of the of the albanian people) workers' party _bashkimi_ do. democratic front 20,000 (union) _puna_ do. central council 18,000 (work) of albanian trade unions _zeri i rinise_ twice central committee 36,000 (the voice of the weekly of the union of youth) albanian working youth _jeta e re_ n.a. shkoder party n.a. (new life) committee _perpara_ n.a. korce party n.a. (forward) committee _pararoja_ n.a. gjirokaster party n.a. (vanguard) committee _adriatic_ n.a. durres party n.a. (adriatic) committee --------------------------------------------------------------------- n.a.--not available. in addition to the local newspapers there are wall newspapers, or flash bulletins, as they began to be called after the 1966 initiation of the so-called cultural revolution in the party drive to rekindle among the people a marxist-leninist revolutionary spirit. these wall newspapers are usually single sheets that are posted on bulletin boards in factories, farms, schools, offices, cultural houses, and other such places. they are usually written by either the party agitators or members of the youth organization, and they serve the same purposes as the formal press--that is, agitation for increased productivity by workers and peasants, antireligious campaigns, and so on (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). the periodical press is as important as the newspaper press and is slightly more diversified. the number of periodicals published grew from fifteen in 1938 to thirty-four in 1967. in 1967 there were almost twice as many periodicals published as newspapers. thus it is possible to design many of the periodicals for consumption by specific audiences. the party, many government ministries, and each of the various mass organizations publish periodicals (see table 8). _rruga e partise_ (party path) is the theoretical journal of the party and is published by its central committee. _ylli_ (star) is the monthly illustrated review that supplements _zeri i popullit_. it was first published in 1960. _table 8. selected albanian periodicals, 1967_ ------------------------------------------------------------------------- title publisher ------------------------------------------------------------------------- _arsimi popullor_ ministry of education and culture (people's education) _bujqesia socialiste_ ministry of agriculture (socialist agriculture) _buletin i shkencave high agricultural institute bujqesore_ (bulletin of agricultural sciences) _drita_ union of albanian artists and writers (light) _fatosi_ central committee of the union of (the brave one) albanian working youth _hosteni_ union of journalists (the goad) _kultura popullore_ ministry of education and culture (people's culture) _llaiko vima_ democratic front (in greek) (the people's voice) _luftetari_ ministry of defense (the warrior) _mesuesi_ ministry of education and culture (the teacher) _nendori_ union of albanian artists and writers (november) _pionieri_ central committee of the union of (the pioneer) albanian working youth _rruga e partise_ central committee of the albanian (party path) workers' party _shqiperia e re_ committee for foreign cultural relations (new albania) (in albanian, chinese, english, french, and russian) _shqiptarja e re_ union of albanian women (the new albanian woman) _sporti popullor_ general council of the union of the (people's sport) federation of sports of albania _teknika_ ministry of industry (technology) _tregetija popullore_ ministry of commerce (people's trade) _ylli_ central committee of the albanian (star) workers' party ------------------------------------------------------------------------- source: adapted from _europa year book, 1969_, london, pp. 457-458. the albanian telegraphic agency (agjencia telegrafike shqipetare) is government controlled and the only source of news, both domestic and foreign. it supplies all national and local newspapers with news items, as well as radio stations and the single television station. the agency has agreements with foreign news agencies for the exchange of news items. radio and television the radio is another important instrument of political and social indoctrination. it was barely in existence when the communist regime came to power. in 1945 there were only two radio transmitters in the entire country. since that time the radio system has been developing rapidly, although it still lags behind the press. in 1969 there were fifty-two radio transmitters, and in 1968 there were 150,000 receivers. the radio system is under the jurisdiction of the directorate of radiobroadcasting, which is under the council of ministers. in actuality, however, the party is in control because the members of the directorate, as well as all personnel involved in radio broadcasting, are party members. all but eight of the transmitters are shortwave, which is indicative of the emphasis placed upon transmitting propaganda abroad. broadcasts from mediumwave transmitters, however, are directed to the countries of eastern europe, parts of the soviet union, italy, and some arab countries. shortwave is used for domestic programs in cases where the mountainous topography creates an obstacle to the mediumwaves. there are only six radio stations in albania (see table 9). radio tirana is the largest, with four mediumwave transmitters and forty-one shortwave transmitters. radio gjirokaster and radio korce each have only one mediumwave transmitter. radio kukes and radio shkoder each have one mediumwave and one shortwave transmitter. radio stalin has only one shortwave transmitter. radio tirana broadcasts all of the programs directed abroad and has the most powerful transmitter (50,000 watts) for domestic programs, whereas local transmitters usually have only 200-watt power. quite possibly the local stations simply relay programs from radio tirana. the domestic service is on the air 13-â½ hours daily and 17 hours on sundays. in 1969 domestic programs were scheduled between 4:30 and 7:00 a.m. and 11:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. daily. the sunday schedule was from 5:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. included in the domestic programs were twelve daily newscasts, children's programs, theatrical presentations, operettas, and other types of cultural programs. foreign broadcasting is done in seventeen different languages and on five beams directed to latin america, north america, africa, asia, and australia. besides albanian, the foreign broadcasts are made in arabic, bulgarian, czech, english, french, german, greek, hungarian, indonesian, italian, polish, portuguese, romanian, russian, serbo-croatian, and spanish. _table 9. albanian radio stations, 1969_ --------------------------------------------------------------------- total number of station transmitters shortwave mediumwave --------------------------------------------------------------------- radio gjirokaster 1 ... 1 radio korce 1 ... 1 radio kukes 2 1 1 radio shkoder 2 1 1 radio stalin 1 1 ... radio tirana 45 41 4 --------------------------------------------------------------------- source: adapted from foreign broadcast information service, _broadcasting stations of the world_, part i: amplitude modulation broadcasting stations according to country and city, washington, september 1, 1969. as late as the end of 1967 the albanian government reportedly was not jamming broadcasts from abroad. this probably was not because of a relaxed attitude on the part of the ruling elite; rather, it was more likely because of the lack of technology necessary for jamming operations and the expense involved. in 1964 the albanian government published statistics on the distribution of radio receivers by social composition. the categories of "workers," "employees," and "peasants" were not explicated; however, it can be assumed that workers refer to blue-collar workers or manual laborers and that employees refer to white-collar workers or office, administrative, and professional personnel. in 1963, out of a total of 70,913 radio receivers, 28,672 were owned by workers, 30,391 were owned by employees, and 6,303 were owned by peasants. clubs and institutional enterprises held 1,236 receivers, and 4,311 were listed under the heading "other." the albanians opened their first television station for experimentation in may 1960. at the end of 1969 they were still experimenting, transmitting programs three times a week. the government had reportedly asked the french to install a television network at the end of 1969. at that time there were about 2,100 television receivers in the country. book publishing and libraries there were three book-publishing enterprises in 1970, all of which were located in tirana. ndermarja e botimeve ushtarake (enterprise for military publications) was operated by the ministry of national defense. n.i.s.h. shtypshkronjave "mihal duri" (state printer "mihal duri") was operated by the party, and shtepia botonjese "naim frasheri" (state publishing house "naim frasheri") was directed by the ministry of education and culture. ndermaja shteterore tregetimit te librit (the book selling state enterprise), located in tirana, had a monopoly over the distribution of books under the direction of the ministry of education and culture. according to official albanian statistics, there were 628 books published in 1967, with a total of 5,605,000 copies printed. this is a great increase over the number published in 1938: 61 books with a total of 183,000 copies printed. according to the latest statistics available, a total of 502 books were published in 1965, of which 110 were literary works. another 197 dealt with the social sciences; 42, with philology; 61, with pure science; 47, with the applied sciences; and 24, with geography and history. it was not indicated how many of these titles were first editions or how many were translations. in 1966, 140 translations from abroad were published, of which 72 dealt with the social sciences, 57 were literary works, 10 were pure science books, and 1 dealt with applied science. because books are an additional channel for propaganda, foreign works to be translated into albanian are carefully scrutinized. literary works must be of the sort that portray the ills and conflicts within capitalist societies. often, although a literary work might be generally ideologically acceptable, parts of it are unacceptable. in such cases, the book is carefully edited and abridged before publication in the albanian language is permitted. scientific and technical literature from abroad, on the other hand, is actively sought for translation. on december 21, 1967, the council of ministers issued a decision "on the assurance, publication, organization, and massive utilization of technical-scientific literature" from abroad. in this decision, the ministry of foreign affairs was called upon to devise new ways for obtaining such literature through its embassies and through international organizations. once the foreign works are obtained, the decision stresses that their translations must be of the best quality. such translations are done under the direction of the ministry of education and culture. there are numerous libraries of varying sizes throughout the country. official sources report that in 1967 there were twenty-nine people's libraries with a total of 1,367,000 volumes, compared with only five such libraries in 1938 with a total of 12,000 volumes. the largest of these libraries is the national library in tirana, which in the late 1960s had 450,000 volumes. the second largest library is the university library, also in tirana, which in the late 1960s had 321,680 volumes and 19,640 periodicals. each district has at least one library. the local libraries are on a much smaller scale than those in tirana in terms of their total number of volumes. in addition to the district libraries, there are several hundred houses of culture, cultural circles, and clubs that subscribe to the libraries in order to make books more accessible to the population. cultural development intellectual and artistic expression in 1944, when the communist regime came to power, there was little or no heritage in the various areas of cultural activity--literature, music, drama, or painting and sculpture--upon which the communist leaders could build. since the end of world war ii, however, a consistent effort has been made to foster the growth of an albanian cultural tradition and to generally raise the cultural level of the people. writers and artists are supported by the state, and cultural institutions have been established throughout the country to ensure maximum cultural exposure of the masses. in 1967 there were 35 houses of culture in cities, 395 in villages, and 1,266 cultural circles throughout the country. in addition, there were 24 national museums and 25 local museums. the various cultural institutions sponsor plays, concerts, and literary readings; subscribe to libraries; arrange trips to museums; and direct other such activities. often courses in the arts, such as music lessons, are conducted. the activities of the houses of culture and the cultural circles are not restricted to cultural recreation, however. they also have been assigned the general task of educating the masses. special cadres of culture are trained to direct the cultural institutions. their preparation extends beyond the realm of culture to marxism-leninism, however, and they are generally trained to enable them to become involved in all aspects of the life of the community. the various cultural institutions, while genuinely serving to expose the masses to culture, are also important instruments of political and social indoctrination. in practice, the principles of socialist realism require that literary and artistic works actively promote the goals of the party and reflect communist ideology. besides generally being "a weapon for the education of the new man with the ideals of socialism and the principles of communist morality," literature, drama, music, and art must inspire nationalism and allegiance to the party and stimulate the people to work toward fulfillment of party plans, whether they are in the economic or the social spheres. the criterion used to evaluate cultural works is the degree to which they further the goals of the party and socialist development. in conjunction with the initiation of the cultural revolution, enver hoxha expounded upon the vital role of the various aspects of culture in a speech to the fifth congress of the albanian workers' party in november 1966. the task set by the party is that "literature and art should become a powerful weapon in the hands of the party for the education of the working people in the spirit of socialism and communism; that literature and art should stand at the vanguard of the struggle for the education of a new generation ideologically and morally pure; that all artistic creation should be of a high ideological level and be permeated by both the party's militant revolutionary spirit and a healthy national spirit." such demands have been made of authors, artists, and musicians since the inception of the albanian people's republic. since 1966, however, when the cultural revolution was initiated, the importance of culture has received greater emphasis and the demands for ideological purity of all creative works have increased. the cultural revolution was still in motion as of the early months of 1970. the dominant themes of albanian culture under communism have concerned the history of albania, the struggle of the communist-led partisans during the war of national liberation, and the transformation of the backward, superstitious society into one that is modern and governed by progressive, socialist principles. in the mid-1960s, however, the party called upon writers and artists to go beyond these themes and to portray the contemporary struggles for the creation of socialism. party guidance stipulates that it is not enough to describe the past struggles and achievements. the ongoing hardships faced by the peasants and workers must be reflected in artistic works. the heroes are to be workers, peasants, and engineers, as well as the partisans. throughout the period of the cultural revolution, artists and writers have been going to the mountain villages, industrial centers, and agricultural cooperatives to live for varying lengths of time. living and working with the people provides the writers and artists with insights into the life and problems that the various types of people must face. these experiences are designed to help them create themes that reflect the contemporary developments more accurately and to make cultural works more relevant to the masses. given the influential role of culture in society, it was imperative that the party establish strict control over all creative activities. authors, dramatists, musicians, and artists must belong to the union of artists and writers. this organization is nominally independent of the party, but in reality it is firmly under party control. another source of control is the ministry of education and culture, which has close ties with the directorate of education and culture under the politburo of the party. furthermore, all individuals involved in cultural pursuits are dependent upon the state for their income as well as for the financing of their various projects. the twofold task of the party leaders in the cultural field--that of fostering cultural development while maintaining control over the content of the cultural works--was difficult in many respects and easy in others. the lack of a firmly established tradition in many cultural fields, as well as the lack of a substantial cultural community, facilitated the establishment of party control. writers and artists who received their training under the party's tutelage know only the socialist realist approach. on the other hand, the lack of experience and personnel in many fields, such as drama, meant that the developments in these areas would be slow. furthermore, the leaders were dependent first upon the yugoslavs and, after 1948, on the soviets to train people in the areas that were totally lacking in albania's cultural heritage. the paucity of artistic and intellectual achievements, compared with those of other nations throughout the world, was basically the result of albania's long history of foreign domination and of the rugged topography of the country, which facilitated the isolation of many communities for centuries. during the several centuries of turkish rule, the albanians were forbidden to develop a written language. furthermore, there were no schools that conducted classes in the albanian language; there were only turkish schools for the muslim population and greek schools for the orthodox population. to compound these difficulties, there are two major dialects of albanian--geg, spoken in the north, and tosk, in the south. albania did not have a uniform alphabet until november 1908, when a congress of intellectuals agreed upon the use of the latin alphabet. it was not until the communist regime came to power that it was decided that tosk would be the official literary dialect (see ch. 2, historical setting; ch. 3, physical environment; ch. 4, the people). an additional obstacle to the development of a substantial intellectual and artistic community and tradition was the fact that until 1957 there were no universities in the country. the state university of tirana, albania's only university, was not established until that year. before world war ii albanian students went abroad, primarily to western europe, in the pursuit of higher education. after world war ii students were usually sent to the soviet union or other eastern european countries to attend universities and other institutions of higher learning (see ch. 5, social system). in 1970 there was still evidence that the communist leaders were not entirely satisfied with the cultural works produced in the past twenty-six years. there were also indications that many creative works were not ideologically pure. few cultural works produced during the communist period are known in the west owing to albania's virtual isolation. evaluation of literature, drama, music, and art can only be made on the basis of criticism and praise of such works that appear in the press. literature albania has a strong tradition of folklore, which had been transmitted orally for several centuries. at the end of the nineteenth century and in the early twentieth century, much of this lore was written down in anthologies and collections. the folklore consists of heroic songs, lyrics, tales, and proverbs. the predominant themes are the heroic feats of the mountain tribes in the north against the slavs across the border, the important role of the albanians in the ottoman empire, and the glorious resistance led by the country's national hero, gjergi skanderbeg, against the turks in the fifteenth century. there are also a large number of love songs and wedding songs found in the folk tradition. an oral tradition was also developed by the albanians who had left their homeland in the second half of the fifteenth century, during and immediately after the wars against the turks led by skanderbeg. the songs and poetry of the italo-albanians reflect fifteenth-century albanian society. the most important theme is the heroic resistance against the turks. there are also lyric songs that portray love for one's mother and wife. lyric songs were also developed in the albanian settlements in greece, although less is known about them. there were no heroic songs from this area until the nineteenth century when the albanian communities fought to preserve their independence and orthodox christianity against muslim incursions. the first written literature found in albania dates back to the fifteenth century. until the nineteenth century such literature was of a religious nature. nationalist literature was not developed until the nineteenth century and, because of the restrictions imposed by the turks, such literature first appeared in the albanian settlements abroad. the most outstanding writer of the nineteenth century was naim frasheri, who played an important role in the awakening of albanian nationalism. the literature of the early twentieth century also was produced outside albania. the writers were instrumental in the development of the movement for albanian independence, and their works were increasingly nationalistic. after independence was achieved in 1912, albanian writers were able to return to their country to work. several volumes of lyric poetry were produced by such people as p. vincenc prennushi, dom ndre mjeda, and asdreni. bishop fan s. noli lived in the united states most of his life but made important contributions to albanian literature. in 1907 he published a three-act play entitled _israelites and philistines_, and he later translated several world renowned literary works into albanian, including shakespeare's _macbeth_, _hamlet_, and _othello_; ibsen's _inger of ostrat_; and cervantes' _don quixote_. in the 1920s and 1930s albanian literary and philosophic periodicals appeared both at home and abroad. the journal _djaleria_ (youth) was published in vienna by albanian students. it was in this journal that the poetry of lasgush poradeci first appeared, and his works made a tremendous impact on albanian youth. two periodicals appeared in the 1930s, _illyria_ and _perpjekia shqiptare_ (the albanian effort), which reflected the intellectual fervor of the decade. new ideas were spread throughout the country by students who returned from universities in italy, france, and austria. the depression and italian penetration of albania also incited intellectual ferment. during world war ii the balli kombetar (national front), a democratic resistance movement, was founded by midhat frasheri, a prominent nationalist writer. the first resistance literature to be openly published, however, was found in the periodical _hylli i drites_ (the star of light), published by the franciscan brothers in shkoder. the fascist occupation forced the publication of this review to cease in 1941. beginning in 1942, clandestine resistance literature began to increase in volume. it was published by the balli kombetar and by the national liberation movement (communist front organization). after world war ii literature came under the control of the communist regime and, consequently, all literary works were made to conform to the principles of socialist realism. the predominant theme of literary works in the early postwar period was the war of national liberation. a few works also dealt with the reconstruction after the years of ravaging war. among the writers of the early communist period were the poets mark ndoja, llazar siliqi, gjergi kominino, ziza cikuli, and vehbi skenderi. zihni sako, fatmir gjata, and jakov xoxe wrote short stories. during the 1944-48 period translations of serbo-croatian works were published, and several books were translated from russian. at the end of 1949 the soviet union and stalin, in particular, became additional themes for albanian literature; after 1960 the chinese were substituted for soviet heroes. theater and cinema there were no professional theaters before 1945. sokrat mijo, an albanian who had studied drama in paris, tried to set up a professional theater in the 1930s but was unable to generate interest in the project. occasionally, amateur groups performed plays, but that was the extent of theatrical experience before the communist era. the people objected to the presence of women on the stage, and in most amateur performances men played the feminine parts. the plays performed by the amateur groups were primarily of a romantically patriotic nature. the absence of repertory theaters did not inhibit the emergence of albanian playwrights and, although their works were rarely performed, they did have readers. the first playwright to appear on albanian territory was pasko vasa pasha, who wrote _the jew's son_. pasha was able to write in his native land because he lived in the city of shkoder, which was the only area to enjoy some immunity from the rigid restrictions imposed by the turks against cultural activity in albania. his play was produced in 1879 by an amateur group at xaverian college. several playwrights emerged in the albanian settlements abroad, and a few within albania, but their works had to be published abroad before 1912. two of the most prominent of these writers were sami frasheri, who wrote _besa_ (the pledge), and kristo floqi, who wrote _religion and nationality_. ernest koliqi made significant contributions to albanian dramatic literature after independence was won. the potential of the theater as an instrument of political and social indoctrination was recognized by the communist leaders, and in 1945 they invited the president of the society of yugoslav actors to come to albania to establish a professional theatrical group. with the aid of sokrat mijo, who had become the director of the school of drama in tirana, such a group was formed. their first performance, in september 1945, was a presentation of _the lover_, which was adapted from a play written by yugoslav playwrights. in 1949 a professional theater was created in shkoder, and in 1950 another theater was founded in korce. since then numerous professional and amateur groups have sprung up throughout the country. they perform serious drama, comedies, variety shows, and puppet shows, the themes of which must conform to the principles of socialist realism. in 1964 it was reported that there were twenty-two professional drama and variety theaters. there is evidence that the lack of experience in the theatrical field created problems for the political leaders' efforts to foster its development. periodically, articles appear in the press that criticize various shortcomings in the production of drama and variety shows. the targets of criticism range from content to the skills of the performers to the management of the stage and theater. cinematography is another field that was not developed until after world war ii. there had been a joint italian-albanian company established in tirana during the italian occupation that produced mostly documentary films, but the film industry did not actually begin to develop until 1949 and 1950. the soviet union was instrumental in the foundation of this industry, and it initially provided the albanians with the necessary equipment. since that time great efforts have been made to increase the number of films produced and to expand facilities for showing them to the public. a few full-length, artistic films are produced each year, and a greater number of short films and documentaries are completed annually. often literary works are made into art films. figures are not available as to the exact number of each type of film produced. films are also imported, under the direction of the ministry of education and culture, mostly from communist countries, although a few western films are shown after careful editing. the foreign films are usually dubbed into albanian. few, if any, albanian productions have been seen in the west. the film industry has been nationalized since its inception. the ministry of education and culture controls the exhibition and distribution of motion pictures. in 1967 there were 50,000 performances, which were attended by about 8.25 million people. music albania has a rich tradition in folk music. heroic and lyric songs, usually accompanied by folk instruments, were passed down from generation to generation over the centuries. in the mountains of the north the _lahute_ (lute), which is a stringed instrument, is popular. other albanian folk instruments are the _roja_, which is a bagpipe, and the _tupan_, which is similar to a tambourine. orchestras, called _saze_, are found in many towns in the southern part of albania. these are usually composed of about five instruments and often provide music for folk dances at weddings and on other special occasions. western music was first spread throughout the country in the 1920s by an albanian brass band that had received training in the united states. after touring the larger towns, it established itself in korce, giving regular popular and classical concerts. the royal band was later established in tirana, whose repertoire consisted of western music but, generally, indigenous music predominated and western music made little impact. western-trained albanian singers appeared in the mid-1930s. tefta tashko, gjorgjija filce, and maria paluca were well-known sopranos who sang both operatic music and folk tunes. kristaq antoniu began his career as a tenor before world war ii and continued it under the communist regime. filce and paluca also remained musical stars after world war ii. kristro kono was the only composer of significance in pre-world war ii albania. he remains a highly rated composer under the communist regime. in the 1950s he wrote several songs, some of which were dedicated to enver hoxha and stalin. some of his orchestral pieces are "fantazi shqiptare" (albanian fantasies) and "agimi" (the dawn). konstantine trako is another popular composer of the communist period. the predominant musical creations are songs with lyrics because they are effective means of inspiring patriotism and pro-communist sentiments. all activity in the musical field is controlled and supported by the party, primarily through the union of artists and writers and the ministry of education and culture. there are state-supported music academies and institutions for training in this field. besides the many local musical groups, there are the state-supported opera and ballet theater of tirana and the song and dance ensemble of tirana (see ch. 5, social system). fine arts the first art school was established in tirana in the 1930s. the curriculum of this school did not go beyond the fundamentals of art and, consequently, talented students had to go abroad. vangjush mijo and androniqi zengo were the first to introduce modern art to albania in the form of impressionism. mijo had studied in italy and zengo in greece. odhise paskal was the only notable sculptor of prewar albania. he had received his training in florence. his creations include the skanderbeg monument in tirana and the national warrior monument in korce. paskal and zengo continued to work under the communist regime. courses in the fine arts have increased since the end of world war ii. artists and sculptors are supported by the state, and the main themes of their creations are workers, peasants, partisan heroes, youth working on agricultural and industrial projects, soldiers, and liberated women in their various activities. examples of artistic creations praised in the albanian press are: "high revolutionary spirit" by m. dhrami, "the adult of the republic" by k. rama, and "the partisans of the revenge battalion" by s. shijaku. besides paskal, j. paco and a. mana have been cited as distinguished sculptors. chapter 8 economic system in mid-1970 the economy, which is wholly controlled by the albanian workers' party, approached the conclusion of the fourth five-year plan, during which it made a further advance along the road of industrialization, in line with the totalitarian leadership's goal of transforming the economy from the stage referred to as agricultural-industrial to a more advanced industrial-agricultural level. the fourth five-year plan (1966-70) actually called for a more rapid growth of agriculture than that of industry and for an increase in the share of agriculture in the national product by 1970. this departure from proclaimed policy was dictated by the failure of agriculture to meet the goals of the third five-year plan (1961-65) and by an overriding need to increase farm production in order to reduce to the maximum extent possible the perennial food deficit. despite government efforts, the five-year plan goals for agriculture are not being achieved, even though substantial advances in production have been made. the agricultural output target set by the annual plan for 1970 is significantly below the five-year plan figure for that year. by contrast, the five-year plan goal for industrial output was reported to have been surpassed in 1969 and to have been raised in the annual plan for 1970 substantially above the original level. the basic reasons for the failure to attain the planned farm output targets, apart from their magnitude, lie in the difficulty of inducing peasants to relinquish age-old traditions in favor of modern scientific farming methods and of motivating them to work industriously in a collective farm system that they strongly reject. although problems of adaptation and motivation are also present in industry, the much smaller size of the industrial labor force and the presence of foreign technicians in key areas mitigate the difficulties and make possible a somewhat more rapid rate of growth. reliable information on albania is scarce. few foreigners capable of observing and evaluating conditions objectively have been able to visit the country in the past twenty-five years. articles from official journals or newspapers available in english translation, which constitute the major source of data, provide only a partial coverage and must be used with caution because of a lack of means for verification. published statistics, available in detail to 1964 and nonexistent after 1967, leave many important gaps. because of apparent shortcomings in the underlying statistical methods, only data in physical terms can be accepted with some degree of assurance as to their accuracy. the economy is administered through a small number of specialized ministries, and most information about it comes from communist sources. control over labor is maintained through trade unions, which constitute a political arm of the party (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). economic activity is governed by a series of five-year and annual plans prepared by the state planning commission in accordance with party directives. agriculture is organized into state and collective farms, which are dependent upon machine-tractor stations for the performance of mechanized farm operations. industry is poorly balanced with regard to the country's domestic needs and is heavily oriented toward exports. foreign trade primarily serves the purpose of obtaining needed resources for the development of production. limited domestic resources are only partially developed, and the economy depends heavily on foreign economic and technical assistance. the country's political orientation has restricted the sources of such aid to other communist states, and its alignment with communist china in the sino-soviet dispute brought about the loss of soviet support with severe repercussions to the economy. after twenty-five years of forced draft economic development, the country in 1967 was described by a correspondent of a european journal as a mixture of the fourteenth and twentieth centuries, where oxen and buffaloes were to be seen side by side with modern foreign-made tractors, and where a policeman directed traffic in the main square of the capital city like a conductor waving his baton at a nonexistent orchestra. after a visit in the fall of 1969, a specialist on balkan affairs reported that austerity and regimentation were still the rule despite a substantial measure of economic progress achieved during the period of independence. he also expressed the view that albania undoubtedly remained the poorest country in europe but that the economic and social advances attained could be envied by the countries of the near east. labor although economic development is still in its infancy, growing concern has been officially expressed about the adequacy of the labor force to meet the needs of industrialization and of expanding social services without adversely affecting agricultural production. the main cause of the incipient labor shortage is low productivity owing to a lack of industrial experience, a low level of mechanization, and the survival of backward traditional methods in agriculture. officially, low productivity has been ascribed to poor labor discipline and inefficient management arising from an inadequately developed sense of political and social responsibility. it has also been blamed on a failure of manpower planning and on the relaxation of central controls over enterprise funds. at the end of 1969 the central committee of the party adopted a decision on means for correcting this situation. an important element of the program is the education and political indoctrination of the workers. this task is a major function of the trade unions, which are primarily a political arm of the party for the control of labor, without any significant responsibilities in the field of labor relations (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). in 1967, the last year for which official employment data are available, the working-age population comprised 932,000 persons, 739,200 of whom were actually employed. the number of employed did not include roughly 6,000 peasants working on the private holdings still remaining in that year. including these peasants, the participation rate in the labor force was 80 percent. two-thirds of the labor force was employed in agriculture, the remainder in a variety of nonagricultural pursuits, chief among which were industry, construction, trade, and education. apart from the peasants working their own land, farm labor included about 427,000 persons on collective farms and 64,000 on state farms. the industrial labor force of 105,300 accounted for 14.1 percent of total employment, and 40,000 construction workers, for 5.4 percent. the nearly 32,000 workers in trade and 25,000 workers in education constituted, respectively, 4.2 and 3.4 percent of the employed manpower. the officially reported labor force, which comprises nonagricultural labor and state farm workers only, increased by 53 percent between 1960 and 1967, from 203,800 to 312,400 persons. the increase represents an annual growth rate of 6.3 percent. at this rate, the labor force in 1970 would be about 375,000 persons. it has been informally reported as 400,000. collective farm employment rose, in round numbers, from 282,000 in 1960 to 336,000 in 1966 and to 427,000 in 1967. the unusually large increase in 1967 resulted from an intensive drive to collectivize the remaining privately owned farms and also from a government policy of reversing the population flow from the farms to the cities. with the major reservoir of individual farms exhausted, the number of collective farm workers could increase up to 1970 by roughly 45,000 to 50,000 through natural population growth. absence of data on rural-urban population shifts precludes any firm estimate of the size of the collective farm labor force in 1970. according to preliminary estimates by the planning authorities, an increase of between 120,000 and 130,000 workers outside the collective farm sector would be needed to implement the industrial and social programs of the five-year plan for the 1971-75 period if productivity remained at the level of the 1965-69 period. the natural growth of the able-bodied urban population during this period was estimated not to exceed 29,000 persons. an outflow of up to 100,000 persons from the rural areas would therefore be necessary to meet the estimated manpower needs. such a contingency could not be countenanced because of the severe damage it would inflict on the rural economy. attainment of a higher rate of participation in the labor force and of a substantial increase in labor productivity has therefore been considered by the party leadership of utmost urgency to ensure sustained economic development. the latest evidence of the leadership's profound concern about these basic labor problems was provided by the party's central committee plenum held at the end of december 1969, devoted to a discussion of means for raising productivity and tightening labor discipline. in its report delivered to the plenum, the political bureau (politburo) of the central committee expressed strong dissatisfaction with what it considered an unsatisfactory rate of participation in employment by the collective farm population. it placed the blame for this situation on local government organs, which had become reconciled to the backward traditional concepts that keep homemakers and some young girls in the home and that require a member of the family to look after the family's privately owned livestock and thus be unable to seek outside work. the party's report also called attention to the prevalence of a petty bourgeois attitude among many families of workers, employees, and servicemen that keeps their members from accepting employment. to facilitate the employment of women, the party urged more widespread provision of amenities, such as nurseries and dining halls, that would free them from household duties. meaningful information on labor productivity is not available because statistics on this subject have not been published and because essential details of the methods used in calculating the percentage rates of increase in productivity that appear from time to time in official public statements are not sufficiently known. based on physical output and labor data, western observers believe that the published data overstate the actual advance achieved. according to the politburo report, productivity in industry rose 2.2 times between 1950 and 1968, and this growth accounted for 60 percent of the increase in industrial production during that period. in agriculture 67 percent of the increase in output during those years was attributed to the growth of productivity. these figures indicate a slightly faster advance in agricultural productivity, but in absolute terms productivity in agriculture has been very much lower than in industry. during the third five-year plan (1961-65) labor productivity reportedly rose by an annual average of 2.1 percent in industry, 4.6 percent in construction, and 2.7 percent in automotive transport. data for the years after 1965 had not been published by mid-1970 except for official statements that the planned levels had not been reached. the lag of productivity has been attributed by the central committee to a pronounced shortage of skilled manpower and to various manifestations of poor labor discipline and faulty management. chief among the cited shortcomings in the field of labor are excessive absenteeism, resulting in part from inadequate medical and public dining facilities; loafing on the job; and a generally negligent attitude toward work that entails a loss of time and a low quality of the product. on the management side, the main shortcomings include poor organization of production, acceptance of unjustifiably low work output norms, and labor hoarding. both workers and managers have been accused of a reluctance to adopt progressive production techniques and of frequently putting their own personal interest or that of their enterprise ahead of the public good. a disorganization of the material supply arising from frequent noncompletion of production assignments and poor coordination among plants and industry branches has also been cited as an important factor responsible for substantial losses of worktime and, consequently, of reduced productivity. enterprise managers have been repeatedly accused of irresponsibility in the use of resources, which has entailed a wasteful use of machinery and labor. inadequate planning of production schedules and poor maintenance are said to cause an inordinate loss of machine time. managers have also been charged with abusing the legal provision that allows them to employ up to 2 percent more workers (presumably to meet emergencies or to increase output) than are called for by the enterprise plan. such abuse has been facilitated by the elimination sometime in the middle or late 1960s of the control by banks over enterprise funds allotted for the payment of wages. a change in the method of productivity planning, which involved a redefinition of productivity as a calculated index, is reported to have been widely misinterpreted as downgrading the importance of productivity. this misconception has been reinforced by the circumstance that productivity levels are planned for only about 70 percent of the nonagricultural workers. in many enterprises labor norms--that is, the minimum amount of work a worker in any given job is required to perform per unit of time--are officially said to be inordinately low. there are reported to be many enterprises in which the established norms are substantially overfulfilled despite the fact that the effective workday does not exceed 6 to 7 hours. these norms, it is said, require only about 5-â½ to 6 hours of work per day and are thus responsible for a 25to 35-percent loss of output or, conversely, of labor wastage. yet, despite the low norms, about 14 percent of the workers fail to complete their assigned tasks. although a politburo decision in april 1967 called the attention of party, government, and economic organs to the importance of correct labor norms, this matter has been generally neglected and little has been accomplished. many of the existing norms have become obsolete. the politburo's program that was adopted toward the end of 1969 for raising productivity is based essentially on an appeal to the social consciousness of all participants in the economic process and calls for improved performance in all aspects and at all levels of production through greater self-discipline and more stringent controls. a practical difficulty faced by the leadership in the execution of its program is the lack of a precise concept of productivity and of an effective methodology for establishing sound productivity targets or for measuring actual performance. the problem is particularly pronounced in agriculture. experimentation with new concepts and methods has been underway for some time under the joint guidance of the state planning commission, the ministry of industry and mining, and the ministry of construction. results of the experimentation are to serve as a basis for further decisions by the council of ministers in 1970. a distinctive feature of the country's labor scene is the practice of mobilizing large numbers of the population for so-called voluntary work on various types of construction and agricultural projects, including the building of railroads, housing, and irrigation canals; land improvement; harvesting; and the planting of trees. thousands and, at times, tens of thousands of individuals from all walks of life, including members of the armed forces, are assembled by the government to carry out specific jobs with simple tools or with their bare hands. party dogma holds that these projects, which use vast numbers of people, reflect the party's strength, the might of the masses, and the great reserves to be found in their midst. the projects are considered to be not only of great economic and social importance but also of great ideological, political, and educational significance because, among other things, they reflect the determination and readiness of the broad working masses to implement the party's line. official complaints about flagging enthusiasm for housing construction in 1968 suggest a less favorable public acceptance of this practice than that proclaimed by the party dogma. agriculture agriculture is organized on the stalinist soviet model: all activity is centrally planned, and farm operations are carried out by state and collective farms. government policy has accorded a high priority to the expansion and modernization of agricultural production as a means of attaining self-sufficiency in foods. in an effort to obviate the historical dependence on grain imports, the government has placed special emphasis on increasing the output of bread grains, which furnish the bulk of the people's diet, and on a rapid rise in the production of potatoes as a substitute for bread. great importance is attached to the expansion of industrial crops, such as cotton, tobacco, sugar beets, and sunflowers, in order to provide raw materials for the growing domestic industries, in addition to maintaining traditional exports. expansion of grape vineyards, olive groves, and other fruit and vegetable growing has also been promoted to develop larger exportable surpluses. according to official data, farm output increased half again as fast as the population between 1950 and 1967, but it is still inadequate to supply the country's minimum needs for bread and livestock products. the government's ambitious farm modernization program has been imposed on tradition-bound peasants averse to rapid change. a large part of the land improvement and irrigation work has been accomplished through mass mobilization of peasants and of the urban population for so-called voluntary work on the model of the chinese coolie system. socialization of the land has had a deleterious effect on work incentives, with a consequent lag in the planned growth of agricultural production. measures adopted by the government to ensure better work performance on the collective farms did not prove sufficiently effective, and a scaling down of the five-year plan target for agricultural production could therefore not be avoided. to provide the additional acreage needed for crop expansion, large-scale programs of land reclamation and melioration have been executed. at the same time, heavy stress has been laid on the improvement of farm techniques and on mechanization as means for increasing yields and production. a planned expansion of livestock herds and of the output of livestock products has been hampered by inadequate incentives for peasants and by a shortage of fodder. the agricultural potential is limited by the predominance of rugged mountain terrain and by frequent spring droughts that cause extensive damage to crops. to minimize the adverse effects of the droughts, an extensive irrigation system is being developed. in 1967 the area of land in agricultural use, excluding forests, roads, and homesites, amounted to about 3.0 million acres, or 43 percent of the country's total area. more than half of the agricultural land was in unimproved natural pastures, with an additional small acreage in natural meadows. cultivated land bearing field and tree crops totaled about 1.4 million acres, of which about 1.1 million acres were arable land, equivalent to about two-thirds of an acre per capita. almost half of the cultivated land was located in hilly and mountainous zones, which are less productive than the coastal plains. the agricultural acreage was expanded by 3 percent between 1950 and 1967, but a significant further expansion is precluded by the country's rugged terrain. a high priority has been placed by the leadership on expanding the cultivated area and raising its productivity through land reclamation, soil improvement, and irrigation. most of this work has been accomplished manually, through mobilization of large numbers of people for massive projects and with the participation by members of the armed forces. between 1950 and 1969 the area of cultivated land rose by almost one-half to a total of more than 1.4 million acres, at least 185,000 acres of which have been reclaimed since 1965. the bulk of the increase in cultivated land was achieved at the expense of natural pastures and meadows, the area of which has declined by about 265,000 and 50,000 acres, respectively, since 1950. about 70 percent of the increase in cultivated land was added to arable acreage. by the end of 1969, however, the reclamation work had fallen behind the five-year plan schedule. in early 1970 the government therefore took special measures to ensure that the entire 285,000-acre reclamation program would be completed as planned, bringing the total cultivated acreage to about 1.5 million acres. very substantial progress in this endeavor was reported to have been achieved by the end of march, largely through the mobilization for this task of about 200,000 persons from urban and rural areas. expansion of the irrigation network has proceeded somewhat more slowly than planned, with the use of the same mass construction methods. as reported by the state planning commission to the people's assembly in mid-february of 1970, about 140,000 acres had been brought under irrigation during the 1966-69 period, and approximately 55,000 more acres were to be added in 1970. these figures imply a total irrigated area of about 645,000 acres in 1969 and about 700,000 acres planned for 1970--an increase of 2,470 acres over the original five-year plan target. attainment of this goal would require a construction volume in 1970 equal to the total achieved during the first two years of the five-year period and almost half again as large as the volume in 1968. about half the arable acreage was irrigable in 1969. the agricultural organization consists of two types of farms: state farms, operated under the direction of either the central or the local government, and collective farms. state farms, modeled after the _sovkhozes_ of the soviet union, were established beginning in 1945 on lands confiscated from large landowners and foreign concessionaires and contain some of the most productive land in the country. managers and workers of state farms are salaried government employees, who may receive special bonuses for superior production achievements. collective farms were organized through the forcible consolidation of private holdings. begun in 1946 against strong peasant resistance, collectivization did not assume major proportions until 1955 and was virtually completed only in 1968 with the consolidation of remote mountain villages. the basic features of the collective farm are: complete government control; collective use of the land and other principal means of production; obligatory common work by the members, based on established minimum work norms and enforced through economic and other sanctions; and distribution of the net income to members on the basis of the quantity and quality of work performed. with regard to income distribution, collective farm members are residual claimants entitled to share whatever remains after completion of compulsory deliveries to the state; provision of prescribed investment and operating funds for the farm; payment for irrigation water, machine-tractor station services, and other outstanding obligations; and setting aside 2 percent of the income for social assistance to members. information on farm income levels is not available. nominally, the general assembly of all the members is the highest ruling organ of the collective farm, but actual control rests with the farm's basic party organization (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). an important feature of the state and collective farms is the small private plot allotted to a member family for its own personal use. since 1967, when these allotments were reduced in size, the maximum legal size of the private plots, including the land under all farm buildings other than the family dwelling, has ranged from 1,000 to 1,500 square meters (about 10,750 to 16,150 square feet, or one-quarter to three-eighths of an acre), depending upon the location and availability of irrigation. the collective farm statute also entitles each family to maintain a few domestic animals privately. only one cow or one pig is authorized, but up to ten or twenty sheep and goats may be allowed. in typical cases a family may have a cow or pig and a few sheep or goats. more liberal allowances for poor mountain farms may include both a cow and pig as well as the maximum number of sheep and goats. in 1964 there were thirty-eight large, centrally controlled state farms with an average of about 7,700 acres of farmland, including about 4,800 acres of cultivated land. in 1968 the average size of the state farms, the number of which had remained stable, was reported to be about 7,350 acres, a reduction of almost 600 acres since 1964. this decline in acreage was brought about by a transfer of some state farmlands to small collective farms as a means of increasing their viability. in 1964, 250 locally administered state farms were reported to average about 380 acres and have probably continued unchanged. in 1970 state farms cultivated 20 percent of the total acreage under cultivation, and collective farms worked 80 percent. the number and average size of collective farms have varied widely as a result of the continuing creation of new farms and the consolidation of existing units. in the fall of 1969 there were 805 collective farms, compared with 1,208 in 1967. the consolidated farms included 568 units consisting of two to three villages each, eighty farms of six to ten villages, and another five farms of eleven villages each. eighty-seven percent of all collective farms had less than 2,470 acres of cultivated land each, and only nine percent had more than about 6,200 acres. highland farms were among the smallest, many being smaller than 750 acres. in 1968 the average size of all collective farms was reported to be about 1,400 acres of cultivated land. in 1967, before collectivization was completed, the population on collective farms consisted of 184,400 families--an average of about 150 families per farm--which provided about 427,000 farmworkers. as a result of further consolidation, the number of families per farm increased significantly. although available statistics are inadequate for a comprehensive review of the crop and livestock situation, five-year plan data and fragmentary information contained in annual official reports on economic plan fulfillment provide a reasonable approximation of the production volume of major crops but only a rough approximation of the size of the livestock herds (see tables 10 and 11). published data on total agricultural production claim a virtual doubling of output between 1960 and 1969. during this period the share of field crops in total output is reported to have increased at the expense of livestock production--a direct result of the government's emphasis on bread grains. the share of field crops is reported to have risen from 44 percent in 1960 to 59 percent in 1967, whereas the share of livestock output declined from 43 to 29.5 percent. fruit production contributed about 10 percent of total output during the period, and collection of wild medicinal plants, another 1 to 4 percent. bread-grain production, including wheat, rye, and corn, increased by 80 percent in the 1966-69 period, but attainment of the five-year plan target requires a reversal of the downward trend in annual output increases since 1966 and a tonnage increase in 1970 from 20 to 38 percent greater than those obtained in the 1967-69 period. the output of potatoes in 1969 was eleven times larger than production in 1965 yet was only half the volume planned for 1970. the required doubling of the output to meet the five-year plan target is roughly equivalent to the increase in production achieved during the preceding three-year period. nevertheless, the substantial rise in the output of bread grains and potatoes achieved during the first four years of the five-year plan significantly, although not entirely, reduced the need for grain imports, which amounted to about 110,000 tons of wheat and 20,000 tons of corn in 1963 and 1964. production of rice, cotton, and tobacco was reported to have lagged through 1969, and the output of cotton actually declined in 1967 and 1968. this and other reported information about these crops indicate that the possibility of attaining the 1970 target is precluded for rice and is questionable for cotton. in the case of tobacco, however, reported production in 1969 was already about 1,000 tons above the five-year plan goal, in spite of the reported lag. as early as 1967 the output of sugar beets approached the volume planned for 1970, but subsequent developments regarding this crop have been cloaked in official silence. according to officially reported data, the production of vegetables in 1969 surpassed the 1970 target by some 60,000 tons, or nearly 27 percent, yet no mention of this fact was contained in the report on plan fulfillment for that year. _table 10. production of field crops and fruits in albania, 1960 and 1965-70 (in thousands of metric tons)_ ------------------------------------------------------------------------- plan 1960 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 1970 ------------------------------------------------------------------------- grains 216.7 324.6 n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. 659.0[*] breadgrains[**] (197.1) (296.6) (389.3) (445.0) (494.0) (533.4) (593.0)[+] potatoes 23.4 21.2 108.0 115.9 166.0 238.8 475.0 rice 4.6 10.2 10.5 11.3 n.a. n.a. 24.0 cotton 16.1 24.6 24.7 21.9 18.5 25.0 34.0 tobacco 8.1 13.3 13.7 13.1 14.9 17.1 16.0 sugar beets 72.7 90.2 132.9 138.5 n.a. n.a. 140.0 vegetables 71.3 140.9 156.5 172.2 180.8 283.8 224.0 fruits, deciduous 25.3 39.7 47.8 40.7 58.6 n.a. 69.5 fruits, citrus 1.7 2.0 2.2 2.6 n.a. n.a. 5.6 grapes 22.3 42.9 54.1 48.5 61.1 n.a. 94.4 ------------------------------------------------------------------------- n.a.--not available * except for the data on fruits, all figures in this column are rounded to the nearest thousand tons. ** wheat, rye, and corn. + the fourth five-year plan (1966-70) calls for more than this amount. in the absence of information on the planting of fruit trees and vines, the fruit production trends of recent years provide the only indication of the extent to which the fruit production program of the five-year plan may be realized. available data through 1968 for deciduous fruits and grapes and through 1967 for citrus fruits indicate that the 1970 goals for grapes and citrus fruits may not be reached. production of citrus fruits would have to more than double in three years, whereas an increase of only 53 percent was achieved in the 1961-67 period. similarly, grape output would have to rise by 54 percent in two years, compared with an increase of 42 percent in the preceding three years. the outlook for deciduous fruits is more favorable. the needed output increase of 20 percent over two years is well within previously attained limits. _table 11. livestock in albania, 1960, 1964-66, and 1970 plan (in thousands)_ ----------------------------------------------------- plan[*] 1960 1964 1965 1966 1970 ------------------------------------------------------ horses 49 44 44 44 n.a. mules 17 20 20 21 n.a. donkeys 57 60 60 60 n.a. cattle 420 427 424 427 475 cows 146 157 156 158 n.a. oxen 100 87 n.a. n.a. 139 buffalo 7 5 5 5 n.a. sheep 1,546 1,682 1,637 1,670 1,800 goats 1,104 1,199 1,175 1,200 1,400 hogs 130 147 141 142 n.a. poultry 1,580 1,671 1,722 1,746 3,000 ------------------------------------------------------ n.a.--not available. *fourth five-year plan (1965-70). information on livestock numbers is much more sketchy. the dearth of published data and repeated official pronouncements indicate unsatisfactory progress in this farm sector, particularly with regard to the high-priority target for cattle raising. an important cause of this lag has been an acknowledged shortage of fodder. another major reason has been an officially induced transfer of livestock from individual peasant ownership to the collective and state farms, where it is subject to the much-criticized negligent attitude of the peasants toward state and communal property. about 60 percent of the cattle and sheep and 85 percent of the hogs were kept on state and collective farms in 1969, as against only about 36 and 64 percent, respectively, in 1964. collective farm managers and local government officials have blamed the fodder shortage on the diversion of pastures and meadows to the production of bread grains. statistical evidence indicates that the output of feed grains declined by about 40 percent from the mid-1950s to the mid-1960s but that the loss of fodder from grazing lands and meadows was compensated fourfold through increased production of forage crops. the validity of the explanation offered by the farm and village officials was vigorously denied in the theoretical monthly journal of the party's central committee, which attributed the fodder shortage to a failure by collective farmers to adopt improved methods of crop production and to exploit all available fodder resources. in january 1970 all basic party organizations in farming areas were urged to eliminate distrust and every conservative idea and harmful tendency that stood in the way of the rapid development of cattle raising and to see to it that the existing gap between the collective farms and private plots was gradually eliminated. government efforts to improve livestock breeds and yields through selective breeding, artificial insemination, and better management practices have also been impeded by peasant apathy. although yields of up to 5,500 pounds of milk per cow were obtained on some state farms in 1966 and yields of about 3,300 pounds to 3,950 pounds on the more efficient lowland collective farms, the average yield of milk per cow on all lowland collective farms in that year was only about 1,750 to 2,200 pounds, and a large number of upland farms obtained even less. the latest available official albanian livestock statistics are for the year 1964. data for 1965 and 1966 have been published by the food and agriculture organization (fao) of the united nations. the fourth five-year plan indicates the numbers planned for some of the livestock categories in 1970 through percentage increases expected to be attained over the numbers in 1965. in the case of cattle, the largest increase by far has been planned for draft oxen--60 percent as against only 12 percent for all cattle--in an effort to reduce a draft power shortage. this increase would inevitably be at the expense of the growth in the numbers of cows and young stock. the growth of productive livestock herds, excluding draft animals, lagged very substantially in relation to the increase in population, at least through 1966. this has entailed a significant worsening of the initially very meager supply of livestock products. according to estimates published by the fao, total annual meat production, including all types of meat in terms of carcass weight but excluding edible offals, increased from an average of 40,000 tons in the 1952-56 period to 50,000 tons in 1967. the output in 1967 implies a per capita daily meat availability of only about 2.5 ounces, including bones. a similar situation prevailed with regard to dairy and poultry products because there were only about 75 low-production cows per 1,000 population and one head of inferior poultry per capita. total agricultural production, which was planned to increase at an average annual rate of 11.5 percent or from 71 to 76 percent for the five-year plan period as a whole, consistently fell short of the targets in the 1966-69 period and was not likely to attain the 17-percent increase planned for 1970. thus, for instance, the actual output increase achieved in 1969 was only about 10 percent as against a planned rise of 22.1 percent and in 1968, similarly, about 1.6 as against 12 percent. this persistent lag in farm output has been extensively and publicly discussed by the leadership, which is intent on raising the general level of performance in agriculture and ensuring an adequate domestic supply of food products. although some blame has been attached to unfavorable weather conditions, the lag has been ascribed primarily to the reluctance of peasants to adopt modern production techniques, poor farm management, insufficient effort to use available resources to best advantage, widespread indifference and negligence, and an excessive preoccupation with personal interests leading to an irresponsible attitude toward work in the collective sector. these shortcomings were said to exist not only among the peasantry at large but also among communists, who should be serving as models of responsible behavior. the basic reason that clearly emerges from public discussion is a widespread opposition of peasants to the collectivization of farms and an associated tendency to devote their best efforts to the cultivation of their own private plots. impressive evidence on this point is provided by official production statistics for 1964, the latest available on this subject. these data show that output per acre on the small private plots of collective farmers and state farm workers was four times larger than output on state farms and six times larger than that on collective farms. constituting only 6 percent of the cultivated land, the private plots produced 23 percent of the total farm output. nevertheless, the leadership has publicly credited the advance in agricultural production to the collectivization of farms. in 1967 the government proceeded to reduce the size of the private plots, with a view to their eventual elimination, both for ideological reasons and as a means of forcing peasants to devote greater efforts to work on collectivized land. subsequent steps were taken to transfer to collective ownership some of the livestock allotted to the farm families by the collective farm statute. this action did not measurably improve agricultural performance. shortfalls in the production of several important crops, including cotton, tobacco, and rice, were admitted to have occurred both in 1968 and 1969, and the situation in the livestock sector continued to be unsatisfactory. a scaling down of the original production goal for 1970 could therefore not be avoided. the farm output target set by the annual plan for 1970 was 12.5 percent below the minimum and 15 percent below the maximum five-year plan figures for the same year. industry a few primitive plants producing consumer goods had been built before world war ii, but industrial development began only in 1949, when construction was undertaken of a 50,000-kilowatt hydroelectric power station, a textile mill capable of producing 22 million yards of cloth per year, and a sugar mill with an annual capacity of 10,000 tons of sugar. industrial construction continued under the first and second five-year plans (1951-55 and 1956-60, respectively) during the 1950s, with substantial financial and technical assistance from the soviet union. this development was temporarily interrupted in the wake of the political break with the soviet union in 1961 but was soon resumed with aid from communist china (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). the interruption was said by the albanian leadership to have retarded industrial growth by three years. disinterested foreign observers, however, reported that the equipment acquired with the aid of communist china was better suited to the needs of the country and of better quality than that supplied by the soviet union. among the major industrial projects completed or under construction in 1970 with the assistance of communist chinese technicians were: copper, chromium, and iron-nickel mines; an oil refinery at fier with an annual capacity of 500,000 tons of crude oil, a 225,000-kilowatt hydroelectric power station at vau i dejes on the drin river; a 100,000-kilowatt capacity of 500,000 tons of crude oil; a 225,000-kilowatt/thermal power-plant at fier; a copper-ore dressing installation and a copper-wire drawing mill; a steel-rolling mill at elbasan; cement mills at elbasan and kruje; large textile combines at tirana and berat; and a knit goods factory at korce. of special benefit to agriculture was the construction of a nitrate fertilizer plant at fier, a superphosphate plant at lac, and a plant for the manufacture of tractor spare parts at tirana. a variety of smaller plants were also built for the production of such items as caustic soda, sulfuric acid, rubber products, electrical equipment and light bulbs, footwear, and vegetable oils. along with the construction of technologically up-to-date plants, others were built with outdated technology through the lack of construction experience or knowledge of more advanced methods. at the same time, obsolete plants and workshops remained in use. in 1969 these technologically backward plants produced less than half the total output but employed more than half the industrial labor force. available information on the structure of industry is ambiguous because of uncertainties regarding the pricing methods underlying the relevant data. according to the official figures for 1967 based on 1966 prices, the food industry accounted for nearly one-third and light industry for almost one-fourth of the total industrial output. the balance of 44 percent was produced by some fourteen or more industry branches, the relative shares of which ranged from 8.0 percent for metalworking and for timber and wood processing to 0.3 percent for the bitumen industry. as a group, six industry branches engaged in oil production and mining contributed about 15 percent of the output. the building materials industry accounted for 5 percent and electric power production, for not quite 4 percent. the relationship between the output of capital goods and that of consumer goods is equally ambiguous. the share of capital goods in the output of 1968 was officially reported as 55.5 percent, as against 44.5 percent for consumer goods. the apparent discrepancy between the reported shares in total output of consumer goods as compared with the production of the light and food industries may be explained, in part, by the fact that a portion of these industries' output is usually included among capital goods as, for instance, textiles used by the clothing industry and leather used by the shoe industry. foreign observers have reported the country's industry to be poorly balanced not only in a technical sense but also in terms of essential domestic needs and the availability of foreign outlets for its products. the metalworking industry, for example, which is limited to the production of automotive and industrial spare parts, apart from a few types of simple agricultural equipment and household utensils, cannot even ensure the maintenance of the existing machinery inventory because it is able to supply only about 60 to 70 percent of the country's needs. industrial production is substantially oriented toward capital goods and exports, whereas the manufacture of products for domestic consumption continues to be severely restricted. the leadership is aware of industry's structural shortcomings and is intent on overcoming them through a program involving the reconstruction and modernization of old plants and the concentration of small shops into larger, more efficient specialized units. progress in this direction, however, has been hampered by inadequate investment resources and by a reluctance of managers and workers to cooperate with this program. it has also been handicapped by a lack of effective planning and by an inability to organize comprehensive studies that would provide a basis for both overall and detailed plans. nevertheless, a few plants for the manufacture of machine spare parts and of simple equipment were formed through the concentration of milling machines previously installed in maintenance shops of various enterprises, and a step toward the consolidation of small artisan shops was taken in may 1969 by transforming artisans' cooperatives into state enterprises. owing to the lack of prior industrial experience by both managers and labor, industry also suffers from poor organization of production and of the material supply, low labor productivity, and generally inferior quality of product. extensive discussion of these problems in the official press indicates that government efforts toward reducing the magnitude of these problems are slow in bearing fruit, despite programs for vocational training and intensive campaigns of political indoctrination aimed at generating productive enthusiasm and innovative initiative among workers and managers. a major campaign is being waged to eradicate artisan traditions and to replace them with industrial production line methods. the basic difficulty in achieving greater efficiency lies in the continuing severe shortage of skilled manpower and of personnel with adequate training in the economics and mechanics of industrial production. because of the underlying pricing methods, officially reported data on total industrial production in value terms overstate the actual rate of growth attained. substantial industrial progress is, nevertheless, indicated by physical production data for a number of commodities (see table 12). since production had started from nothing or from very low levels in the early post-world war ii years, the rates of growth in output were substantially higher during the 1950s than in the following decade. the highest rates of increase during the 1960s, ranging from five to three times the initial volume, were achieved in the production of copper, electric power, and cement. increases of from 69 to 80 percent were attained for coal, oil, and iron-nickel ore. production of textiles and footwear grew by more than half, and that of knitwear more than doubled. a substantial advance was also made by the food-processing industry. least progress was made in the production of cigarettes and bricks--only about 6 to 7 percent--and the output of timber actually declined from 6 million to 5 million cubic feet. most of the mining output and a substantial share of the food industry production are exported. rapid electrification of the country has been a major goal of the leadership. electrification is intended to meet the needs of industrial development and help attain a higher standard of living in rural areas. a crash program has been underway to bring electric power to every village, even in the remotest areas. this project was originally scheduled to be completed in 1985, but the date has been advanced to november 8, 1971, the thirtieth anniversary of the founding of the ruling albanian workers' party. the program is being carried out by the prevailing method of mass mobilization for voluntary work. installed capacity in 1969 was reported to be 210,000 kilowatts, of which 128,000 kilowatts were in thermal powerplants and 82,000 kilowatts in hydroelectric power stations. this capacity reflected a fourfold increase since 1960, a large part of which was accounted for by a single thermal plant of 100,000-kilowatt capacity put into operation in late 1969. the country's hydroelectric power potential has been estimated by albanian technicians as roughly 3 billion kilowatt-hours per year, half of which is represented by the drin river. development of this potential has barely begun. the first major plant on the drin with a capacity of 225,000 kilowatts is scheduled for completion at vau i dejes in 1971, and a second station on that river with a capacity of 400,000 kilowatts is to be built at fierze during the fifth five-year plan (1971-75). _table 12. industrial production in albania, 1960 and 1964-69_ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ commodity units 1960 1964 1965 1966 1967 1968 1969 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ electric power million kilowatt-hours 194 288 322 433 589 712 n.a. crude oil thousand metric tons 728 764 822 887 984 1,137 1,310 petroleum products do. 369 476 509 590 692 n.a. n.a. coal do. 291 292 331 393 434 491 n.a. chrome ore do. 289 307 311 302 327 369 n.a. copper ore do. 82 145 219 228 267 304 326 blister copper do. 1 2 4 5 5 n.a. n.a. iron-nickel ore do. 255 351 395 395 403 440 n.a. cement do. 73 127 134 139 221 n.a. n.a. bricks million units 130 121 112 106 139 n.a. n.a. ginned cotton thousand metric tons 7 9 8 9 9 n.a. n.a. textiles million yards 28 33 33 37 44 n.a. n.a. cotton do. 27 31 ... ... ... n.a. n.a. knitwear million units 1 2 2 3 3 n.a. n.a. leather thousand square yards 109 126 124 161 158 n.a. n.a. footwear (other than rubber) thousand pairs 1,365 1,835 2,103 2,259 2,103 n.a. n.a. shoes and sandals thousand pairs 831 955 n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. n.a. rubber boots do. 155 201 191 211 248 n.a. n.a. flour thousand metric tons 125 145 152 161 157 n.a. n.a. cigarettes million units 3,436 3,990 4,390 3,310 3,620 n.a. n.a. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ n.a.--not available. electric power production is reported to have attained in 1968 the level planned for 1970. output of power rose from 194 million kilowatt-hours in 1960 to 324 million kilowatt-hours in 1965 and almost 800,000 million kilowatt-hours in 1969. the distribution system has also been rapidly extended and in 1969 included about 800 miles of high-tension transmission lines of 35 and 110 kilovolts. distribution and use of electric power were reported to be very wasteful, with losses as high as 115 million kilowatt-hours in 1969--almost 15 percent of total output. information on the pattern of electric power consumption has not been published. finance financial operations have been shrouded in secrecy, and little information can be gleaned from the limited published data. these data, nevertheless, reflect some of the leadership's basic economic policies, such as its emphasis on rapidly increasing production while restraining a rise in consumption, its preference for industrial development as against agricultural growth, and its drive to mobilize domestic resources for economic development. the budget information on budgetary practices is not available, and statistics relating to the budget are incomplete. the relation between three different budgets approved annually by the people's assembly on recommendation of the council of ministers is therefore unclear. there is a state and a national budget and a budget for local government. the budget for local government has been growing slowly in relation to the state-budget--from 16 percent in 1955 to 17 percent in 1960 and 20 percent in 1969 and 1970. only about one-fourth of local budgetary revenue is derived from local taxation, which implies a substantial subsidy from the central government budget. the amount of this subsidy is roughly double the usual 7to 8-percent difference between the state and the smaller national budget. a surmise that the state budget represents an overall budget and that the national budget serves to finance central government activities only is therefore not warranted. except for a slight decline in revenues in 1961 and 1963, coincident with the country's political and economic break with the soviet union, the annual state budget has been rising steadily to a level of 5.21 billion leks (5 leks equal us$1--see glossary) in revenues and 5.11 billion leks in expenditures for 1970. by comparison with the budget for 1960, revenues increased by 85 percent and expenditures by 102 percent, with a corresponding decline of 65 percent in the budgetary surplus. on a five-year basis, comparing the fourth five-year plan with the third five-year plan, both revenues and expenditures rose by about 40 percent, with a slightly higher increase in revenues. a relatively greater stringency of funds for budgetary purposes after the break with the soviet union is reflected in the planned annual budgetary surplus, a permanent feature since 1946 and a matter of great pride for the leadership. from a level of almost 24 percent in 1950, 15 percent in 1955, and 10 percent in 1960, the surplus dropped to 1.1 percent in 1962 and 1.5 percent in 1963. despite a slight recovery in subsequent years, except for 1968 when it declined to only 1 percent of revenues, the planned surplus did not again approach its earlier size. partial information on sources of revenue is available to 1967. published statistics listed a turnover tax on all goods produced, deductions from enterprise profits, direct taxes on the population (primarily income taxes), and social insurance premiums. these sources yielded, on an average, 60 percent of the total revenue in the 1960-65 period, and their share rose steeply to 74 percent in 1967. the balance of the revenue, omitted from official statistics, consisted primarily of income from agriculture in the form of compulsory deliveries, proceeds from state farm operations, payments to machine-tractor stations, and taxes. the most important among the listed revenue sources were the turnover tax and deductions from profits. together their yields ranged from 50 percent of total revenue in 1960 to almost 69 percent in 1967, but their relative weights changed markedly during this period. in 1960 the turnover tax yielded 40 percent and profit deductions 10 percent of revenue; by 1967 their respective shares were 43 and 26 percent. social insurance premiums contributed between 3.2 and 4.5 percent, while the yield from direct taxes on the population declined from 2.7 percent in 1960 to less than 1 percent in 1967. in 1969 income taxation was abolished for individuals and for some poor collective farms in hilly and mountainous areas. the leadership has claimed that the abolition of direct taxes on the population with the concomitant improvement in public welfare was made possible by the country's economic advance based on the party's correct revolutionary policy, and it contrasted the progressive nature of this measure with an alleged intensification of exploitation and misery of workers in what are officially called imperialist and modern-revisionist countries. this comparison ignores the existence of the turnover tax, which is particularly heavy on consumer goods, and of the enterprise profits deduction, both of which are reflected in the sales price of commodities and, consequently, represent a hidden form of sales taxes. this method of taxation is known to be regressive, in that it takes no account of differences in income and places the heaviest burden on those least able to pay. the published budget laws usually specify the amount of revenue to be derived from the socialized economy, including collective farms and cooperative enterprises. the proportion of this revenue was reported to have been 85.5 percent in 1960 and from 88 to 89 percent in the 1968-70 period. this information cannot be reconciled with the published revenue statistics, particularly with the data concerning the taxation of noncollectivized farm enterprises, the proceeds from which were reported to be less than 0.5 percent in 1964. the revenue from the nonsocialized sector consists mostly of taxes imposed on the output from personal farm plots of collective and state farm workers and, to a lesser extent, of taxes on some private artisan and other activities still tolerated by the government within narrowly prescribed limits. information on budgetary expenditures is also incomplete. published statistics failed to specify the use of 17.5 percent of the total outlays in the 1960-65 period, and no explanation is readily at hand for the decline of the unallocated residue from that level to between 3 and 4 percent in 1968-70. the published data included outlays for the national economy, social and cultural needs, defense, and administration. the proportion of total expenditures devoted to social and cultural needs and to defense remained remarkably stable between 1960 and 1970. annual outlays for these two categories fluctuated, respectively, only from 22.6 to 25.1 percent and from 7.6 to 9.9 percent of total expenditures. the share of administrative expenditures declined steadily during this period from 2.7 to 1.7 percent. outlays for the national economy were also shown by the published statistics to have been quite stable in the 1960-65 period, with an annual variation of only 2.6 percent. coincident with the decline and virtual disappearance of the unreported expenditure residue after 1965, however, the share of industry rose sharply from 46 percent in 1965 to more than 64 percent in 1968 and remained above 61 percent through 1970. the reasons for, and the implications of, this change in reporting practice are not known. an average of 47 percent of the budgetary expenditures in the 1960-67 period was devoted to investment, with annual fluctuations of this category between 39 and 55 percent. the lowest rates of investment occurred in 1962 and 1963 as an aftermath of the abrupt cessation of soviet aid deliveries. in absolute terms the volume of investment increased from 1.1 billion leks in 1960 to 1.8 billion leks in 1967. total investment for the years 1966-70 was planned at 6.5 billion leks, an increase of 34 percent over investments in the preceding five-year period. actual investment in the years 1966-69 was reported to have exceeded the plan for those years by 12 percent. in line with the party's policy of promoting a rapid growth of the country's productive capacity, from 80 to 82 percent of the investment has been devoted to the construction of facilities for material production. industry has received the largest share of investment--48 percent in the 1961-65 period and 50 percent under the plan for 1966-70. on an annual basis, industry's share ranged from a low of 36 percent in 1962 to a high of 61 percent in 1965. the proportion of agricultural investment was much lower--only 15 percent of the total in 1961-65 and less than 19 percent of the total planned for 1966-70. during the first two years of the 1966-70 period, actual investment in agriculture lagged substantially and amounted to only 11.7 and 16.2 percent, respectively. the lack of adequate investments has been a contributing cause of poor agricultural performance. there has been no consistency in the pattern of industrial and agricultural investment. the respective shares of these two sectors in total investment fluctuated widely from year to year in the 1960-67 period. an adequate explanation of the reasons for this fluctuation has not been found. investment in housing and for social and cultural purposes has been minimal--8.1 and 3.7 percent, respectively, in the 1961-65 period and 6.1 and 8.1 percent, respectively, under the plan for 1966-70. as in the case of agriculture, actual investment in 1966-67 was substantially below the planned levels and amounted to less than 5 percent for housing and 2 percent for social and cultural needs. this capital starvation has been largely responsible for the dismal housing situation and for the inadequacy of other essential amenities. money and banking the lek, divided into 100 quintars, is a nonconvertible paper currency with multiple official exchange rates. the basic official rate since august 10, 1965, has been 5 leks for 1 united states dollar, a rate that has no applicability in practice. up to 1965 the exchange value had been 50 leks per us$1. the change in par value had no economic significance because prices, wages, and all other monetary values were reduced by the same ratio. there are two types of so-called tourist or support leks. a rate of 12.50 leks per us$1 applies to the official exchange of western currencies by nonresidents and to support payments received by residents from western sources. a rate of 7.55 leks per us$1 applies to the exchange by communist country residents of their national currencies and to support and other noncommercial payments transferred by them from albania to communist states. a third variety of official exchange rates consists of the rates used to balance clearing accounts under special trade and payments agreements with communist countries. an illegal black market rate of about 60 leks per us$1 from early 1968 through early 1969 was reported by reliable sources. all currency matters are administered by the national bank jointly with the ministries of finance and trade. albania is not a member of the international bank for reconstruction and development or of the international monetary fund. adequate information is not available on the nature of the relationship between the state bank and the ministry of finance or on the bank's financial operations beyond some outdated statistics on credits and savings deposits. as the principal financial institution, the state bank carries out the financial policies of the party and government. it issues currency, provides credit to all economic sectors, accepts savings deposits, and serves as the country's treasury. in addition to these functions, the state bank helps prepare the financial plans for the economy, is called upon to assist enterprises in completing their planned assignments, and is responsible for controlling all economic activities through the use of its financial levers. in mid-1969 the state bank was severely criticized for poor performance, particularly its failure to exercise adequate control over unauthorized use of funds and waste of materials by the enterprises it helped to finance. the bank's failure was largely precipitated by uncertainties created through a decentralization of economic authority, decreed by the party, and a dilution of the bank's control function. a specialized system of state savings and securities banks was established within the ministry of finance in november 1968, for the purpose of mobilizing the population's savings for investment through loans to the state and the sale of its securities. the text of the law that created this institution contained no provision concerning the relation of these new savings and securities banks to the state bank. further information on the new banks was not available in mid-1970. the only available information on the state bank's financial operations consists of partial data on loans to agriculture and for housing and on the number and amount of savings deposits. the total volume of farm credits, exclusive of credits to state farms for which statistics have not been published, increased from 95 million leks in 1960 to 252 million leks in 1964, including long-term loans of 38 million and 44 million leks, respectively. by 1967 long-term loans had increased to 56 million leks. the statistics do not indicate whether the published data refer to the annual volume of loans granted or to the total amount of outstanding loans. a small fraction of the loans after 1960 was granted to individual peasants for the purchase of livestock. loans for housing construction and repair declined drastically from 17 million leks in 1960 to only 7 million leks in 1964. the distribution of the loans between urban and rural areas fluctuated widely, but urban loans predominated by a large margin and constituted from 69 to 93 percent of the total. the number of savings accounts increased from 235,400 in 1960 to 445,000 in 1968, and the volume of deposits rose from 119 million to 247 million leks. interest paid on these amounts totaled 3.6 million and 4.8 million leks in the respective years, which implies a reduction of the interest rate from about 3.0 to 2.5 percent. foreign economic relations foreign aid the country's foreign economic relations have been conditioned by its leadership's economic goals and political persuasion. as a poor, undeveloped country intent on modernizing and expanding its economy at a rapid pace, albania has had to rely heavily on foreign economic and technical assistance during the post-world war ii period. the leadership's extreme marxist orientation and hostility toward the western nations have precluded a recourse to non-communist sources of aid and have made the country entirely dependent upon contributions by other communist states. but even within the communist sphere political disagreements have had a disruptive effect on aid arrangements (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). from 1945 to 1948 economic and technical assistance was received from yugoslavia. after the political break between that country and albania, the soviet union assumed the role of major aid donor, and smaller contributions were made by some of the east european communist states. since 1961, when the substantial support of the soviet union was lost in the wake of the political schism within the communist world engendered by the sino-soviet dispute, albania has been able to obtain assistance only from the people's republic of china (communist china). the readjustment necessitated by the abrupt withdrawal of all soviet aid and technical advisers was said by albanian leaders to have retarded economic development by three years. the extent of aid received in the form of long-term loans, some of which became grants through debt cancellations, is only partially known. the amount of total loan commitments by the soviet union in united states dollar equivalents for the period of 1945 through 1961 was estimated by one western source at us$246 million. another western source reported the amount of loans promised by the soviet union and the east european communist states for the 1961-65 period to have been in excess of us$132.5 million. these loans were cancelled in their entirety in the spring of 1961. a partial list of soviet loan commitments, compiled by a western student from soviet economic literature, totaled us$172 million for 1957-61. the actual amount disbursed, however, was much smaller. aid deliveries, as reflected in official soviet statistics, totaled only us$39.4 million for the years 1955-61. similar information on aid deliveries from 1949 to 1954 was not readily available. western observers believe that the economic crisis created by the soviet withdrawal of aid forced albania to default on the outstanding loans. loans granted by east european communist states and outstanding in 1965 (in terms of united states dollar equivalents) were given by a soviet source as follows: bulgaria, us$11 million; czechoslovakia, us$25 million; east germany, us$15 million; and romania, us$7.5 million. information about repayments of these loans was not available. only a fraction of the outstanding amounts could have been liquidated through albania's trade surplus with these countries. some western estimates placed the debt to the soviet union and east european communist states at the end of 1968 at a minimum of the equivalent of us$500 to us$600 million. economic aid by communist china dates back at least to late 1954. stated in united states dollar equivalents, albania received in that year a grant-in-aid of us$2.5 million and a loan of us$12.5 million. an additional credit of us$13.75 million was made available in early 1959, and a loan of us$123 million for the purchase of industrial equipment during the third five-year plan (1960-65) was extended in early 1961, after albania's break with the soviet union. two more loans, for undisclosed amounts, were negotiated in june 1965 and november 1968 to finance the fourth and fifth five-year plans, respectively. in public references to the 1968 loan, party and government officials gave the impression that it was substantially higher than the loan of us$123-million obtained in 1961. aid has been provided by communist china free of interest. a western scholar reported unidentified sources to have suggested that the 1965 loan amounted to about us$214 million, a sum substantially in excess of the credits granted up to that time. another western source estimated total direct credits for the 1960-68 period to have been more than us$450 million, exclusive of substantial grants. yet, other western sources thought at the time, and also in 1970, they had discerned evidence of disappointment on the part of the leadership with the extent of the financial assistance, delays in the supply of machinery, and an unwillingness or inability to supply much-needed consumer goods. the leadership's awareness of the inadequacy of foreign aid in relation to the planned development program has been evidenced, in its appeals for greater productivity, by the high frequency of references to the party's principle of reliance on the country's own efforts and in its continuing campaign for the utmost economy of resources. the country's cumulative clearing debt to communist china on the commodity trading account at the end of 1968 was estimated at roughly us$300 million. this amount did not include the substantial additional costs of assistance in the form of technical advisers who have guided the construction and operation of major industrial projects. estimates of these costs or of the number of aid technicians in the country were not available. foreign trade because of the dearth of domestic resources in relation to the needs for economic development and consumption, foreign trade has consistently shown a negative balance. a marked improvement in this respect has taken place since 1955, even though the absolute deficit has been growing with the rising trade volume. in the 1960s exports covered 60 percent or more of imports, compared with 47 percent in the 1956-60 period and 31 percent in the preceding eleven post-world war ii years. this improvement in the trade balance has been achieved through a consistent policy of diversifying domestic production with a view to import substitution, developing all possible resources for the production of exportable goods, improving product quality, and severely restricting domestic consumption. the annual trade deficit in 1967 and 1968 was about 200 million leks. the volume of trade has been rising quite steadily from 140 million leks in 1950 to 950 million leks in 1968. during this period imports increased from 110 million to 580 million leks, and exports rose from 30 million to 370 million leks. the fourth five-year plan calls for an increase of 31 percent in total trade over the volume of the preceding five years, including an increase of 36 percent in exports and 28 percent in imports. these figures imply a planned average annual trade volume in the 1966-70 period of 885 million leks, of which 355 million leks were exports and 530 million leks imports. although the rate of trade expansion during 1966-68 exceeded the target, the export-import ratio was not as favorable as that called for by the plan. the directional pattern of the country's foreign trade has conformed to the general observation that trade follows aid. the assumption by communist china in 1961 of the major aid donor position previously held by the soviet union had an immediate and pronounced impact on the direction of trade. in 1960 communist china accounted for only 7 percent of the total trade volume, as against 54 percent for the soviet union. by 1962 trade with communist china had grown to 51 percent of a somewhat smaller total volume, whereas trade with the soviets had ceased altogether by 1963. in 1964 communist china's share of the trade was equal to that of the soviet union in 1960, and the actual volume represented by that share was 23 percent larger. during the 1962-68 period trade with communist china amounted to about half the total trade volume, but the share of communist china declined below that level toward the end of this period. this decline was the result of a successful effort by the leadership to expand the country's trade with both communist eastern europe and the non-communist west. trade with the communist countries of eastern europe, other than yugoslavia, continued after the break with the soviet union and increased by 66 percent from 226 million leks in 1960 to about 375 million leks in 1968. the share of this group in total trade rose during this period from 35 to 40 percent, almost entirely after 1964. albania's most important trade partner in this group has been czechoslovakia, second only to communist china with a volume of 118 million leks in 1968, equivalent to about 12 percent of albania's total trade volume in that year. following czechoslovakia in order of importance were poland, east germany, and bulgaria, with trade volumes ranging from 69 million to 53 million leks. trade with hungary and romania amounted to about 40 million leks and 32 million leks, respectively. with the exception of poland and romania, albania's trade balance with the countries of eastern europe was positive between 1960 and 1968. the excess of exports over imports during this period totaled about 65 million leks. during the early years of the country's dependence upon soviet aid, trade with non-communist countries and with yugoslavia had been discontinued, but it was resumed on a very small scale by 1955. in 1964 this trade amounted to only 65 million leks (equivalent to us$13 million at the official rate of exchange), or 8 percent of the total trade turnover. fully two-thirds of this trade was accounted for by italy and france. during the following four years trade with the west and yugoslavia increased 2-â½ times to 160 million leks in 1968, and the share of this trade in the total turnover doubled. italy continued to be the major western trade partner, with a turnover of 66 million leks in 1968, but the largest advance was made in the trade with yugoslavia. the total trade turnover with that country rose fiftyfold in one year, from 400,000 leks in 1965 to more than 20 million leks in 1966. under the 1970 trade agreement the trade volume is scheduled to reach 50 million leks. in 1968 italy and yugoslavia together absorbed four-fifths of the combined exports to the west and yugoslavia and supplied more than half the imports from that area. another striking example of the country's trade expansion effort is the agreement with greece, a country with which albania has had no political or economic relations for thirty years. signed by the chambers of commerce of both countries in january 1970 and effective for one year, this agreement provided for an initial turnover of 7.5 million leks, of which 4 million leks were in imports and 3.5 million leks in exports. commercial orders worth about 1.5 million leks on both sides were reported to have been placed by mid-1970. in 1969 trade relations were officially reported to have been maintained with forty different countries. relations with thirteen of these countries, both communist and non-communist, were formalized by trade agreements. imports have overwhelmingly served the needs of production and industrial expansion. almost 50 percent of the imports in 1964 consisted of machinery, equipment, and spare parts. more than 23 percent was accounted for by minerals and metals, chemical and rubber products, and construction materials. another 16 percent was made up of agricultural raw materials, about two-thirds of which was destined for the food-processing industry. only 11 percent of the imports consisted of finished consumer goods and ready-to-eat foods. continuing party and government emphasis on increasing production and the improved domestic output of foods suggests that the production-oriented nature of imports did not change significantly by 1970. exports have consisted predominantly of minerals and mineral products but have also included significant amounts of agricultural products and manufactured consumer goods. in 1969 petroleum and natural bitumen, chromium and ferronickel ores, and copper (including copper wire), constituted 55 percent of exports. another 25 percent comprised processed foods, such as canned fish and vegetables and preserved fruits; light industry products, including cotton and linen textiles and some readymade clothes; and a few chemicals. the balance of 20 percent was represented by fresh fruits and vegetables and by agricultural raw materials, such as hides and skins, tannins, and medicinal plants. exports of fruits and vegetables to central and northern europe have been growing rapidly. the share of manufactured and semiprocessed products in exports was also officially reported to be increasing and to have constituted 51 percent of the export volume in 1968. students of albanian affairs have reported that some of the country's exports are not competitive in world markets and that communist china has been willing to absorb them at a good price only for political reasons, as did the soviet union before 1961. chapter 9 internal and external security the armed forces in 1970 were under the ministry of people's defense, and all elements were included within the people's army. total personnel strength was about 40,000. most troops were acquired by conscription, and about one-half of the eligible young men were drafted, usually at age nineteen. all of the tanks, aircraft, and vehicles used by the armed forces were of soviet design, but since 1961 all external assistance has been provided by the communist chinese. military ranks were abolished in 1966, but the force organization at lower levels in all service components was conventional. the modern armed forces grew out of the partisan units of world war ii, during which they fought against the italians, the germans, and each other. by the time of the german evacuation of albania in november 1944, the communist-led national liberation front held the dominant position among the partisans and was able to assume control of the country without fighting any major battles. the albanian workers' party (communist party) had an active organization within the services. all or nearly all officers in the regular services were party members in 1970. all cadets over eighteen years of age in the officer candidate military schools were also party members. younger cadets were members of the union of albanian working youth. probably only a very few of the conscripts were party members, but nearly all were members of the youth organization. in addition to the influence exerted by party cells, political commissars throughout the armed forces structure enforced ideological conformity. the albanian fighting man has had an excellent reputation for 2,000 years but, with the exception of skanderbeg, the fifteenth-century national hero--he was born gjergi kastrioti and renamed skanderbeg after alexander the great--the military forces of the country have disclaimed any heritage antedating the partisan activities of world war ii. skanderbeg gained brief independence for the country during his opposition to the turkish invaders, but his exploits in support of nationalism stood almost alone over the entire period between roman times and the twentieth century. moreover, national independence in 1912 did not result from a major military victory. national feelings, aroused late in the nineteenth century, became more intense during the early 1900s but, although there were clashes between fairly sizable armed groups of turks and albanians, freedom was not attained from armed struggle involving organized military forces. rather, in the interests of the balance of power the greater european powers recognized the declared independence of albania (see ch. 2, historical setting). police and security forces were under the control of the ministry of the interior. they were organized into three directorates: the directorate of state security, frontier guards, and the people's police. except for the fact that they were subject to the same system of military justice, they were entirely separate from the armed forces of the ministry of people's defense. the albanian security police in 1970 were believed to exert more rigid controls over the population than was exercised by similar forces in any other east european communist country or in the soviet union. the directorate of state security contained the internal security police. organized to protect the party and governmental system, they were responsible for suppressing resistance to, and deviation from, party ideology, and for combating crimes that had a national character. frontier guards, as their name implies, accomplished border security. the people's police were the local or municipal police, with the typical routines and local interests of such forces. it is difficult to ascertain the overall effectiveness of the various police and security forces in the maintenance of public order because no official crime statistics are published. official statements in the press provide little or no information on the extent of crime other than the inordinate coverage of those crimes that are political in nature and considered threatening to the party or the state. statements by the rare western visitors to the country concerning the police state atmosphere have led to the assumption that public order is rigidly maintained. although military and security forces were small in proportion to the size of the military age male population, they were nearly double the per capita average maintained by the north atlantic treaty organization (nato) or by warsaw pact nations. whether or not the people recognized the armed forces as a burden, the country has never had the industrial or economic base to maintain them. since world war ii it has relied, in turn, on yugoslavia, the soviet union, and communist china for aid. chinese assistance since 1961 has been sufficient to maintain equipment previously furnished by the soviet union and to replace some of the older weapons as they became obsolete. historical background the free-spirited and hardy albanian mountaineers have had excellent reputations as individual fighters. the romans recruited some of their best soldiers from the regions that later became albania. in succeeding periods many albanians became famous in the military service of the ottomans. nationalism was rarely necessary to motivate these men. before 1912 the country had independence for only one brief period. it was gained then by the national hero, skanderbeg, and freedom evaporated almost immediately upon his death in 1468. the history and legends attached to him make up a large part of the national military tradition. other than in his day, freedom was rarely fought for except in the context of defense of tribal areas against the incursions of marauding neighbors. there were few occasions when albanians rose up against occupying foreign powers. conquerors generally left the people alone in their isolated mountain homelands and, as a feudal tribal society persisted, there was little if any feeling of national unity in the country (see ch. 2, historical setting). organized military action also played an almost negligible part in attaining independence. some revolutionary activity occurred during the rise of national feeling in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. there were clashes between insurgents and turkish forces as early as 1884 but, at the same time that the albanians were resisting turkish practices they considered oppressive against themselves, they were defending the turks in their hostilities with the greeks or the slavs. they continued to be recruited into, and to serve in, the turkish army. by 1900 about 8,000 armed albanians were assembled in shkoder, but they were unopposed, and a situation resembling anarchy more than revolution prevailed in the country during the early 1900s. there were arrests, incidents of banditry and pillage, and many futile turkish efforts to restore order. guerrilla activity increased after about 1906, and several incidents occurred, which produced martyrs but which were not marked by great numbers of casualties. nevertheless, although it was unorganized and never assumed the proportions of a serious struggle, the resistance was instrumental in maintaining the pressure that attracted international attention and led the great powers, when they intervened after the balkan wars of 1912 and 1913, to recognize the independent state of albania. world war i began before the country could establish a viable governmental body--much less form, train, and equip a military establishment. during the war years it was occupied by the warring parties, and the last of them remained into 1920. ahmet zogu--as minister of the interior and minister of war until 1922 and prime minister from 1922, except for a brief exile in 1924, until he became king zog in 1928--created the first national forces of any consequence. before 1925, so that he would have some assurance of their loyalty, these consisted of about 5,000 men from his home tribal district. starting in about 1925 with italian assistance and a considerable degree of italian control over the forces, men were drawn through universal conscription. the first drafts called about 5,000 to 6,000 annually from the approximately 10,000 young men who became eligible for the draft each year. italian aid equipped the forces, and italian officers provided most of the training and tactical guidance, to the point that they had effective control over their employment. at about the same time the gendarmerie was formed with british assistance. it had an albanian director, a british general who served as its inspector general, and a staff of british inspectors. the gendarmerie became an effective internal security and police organization. it had a commandant in each of the ten prefectures, a headquarters in each of the subprefectures (up to eight per prefecture), and a post in each of the nearly 150 local communities. its communications network was for many years the most complete telephone system in the country. although the italians objected strenuously, king zog used the gendarmerie as a safeguard against the possible consequences of italian domination of his regular armed forces. he kept the force under his direct control and retained its british advisers until 1938. zog also retained a sizable armed group from his old tribal region. king zog's efforts to reduce italian control over his forces were insufficient to save them from quick humiliation before world war ii. the italians attacked on april 7, 1939, and, although annual conscription had created a trained reserve of at least 50,000 men, it was never called. resistance was overcome in about a week. later in 1939 the italians incorporated albanian units into their forces. little benefit was derived from the albanians, who could see little point in fighting for the italians, even against their traditional enemies, the greeks. they deserted in large numbers (see ch. 2, historical setting). resistance to the occupation grew rapidly as signs of italian weakness became apparent. at the end of 1942 guerrilla forces had numbered no more than perhaps 8,000 to 10,000. by the summer of 1943, when the italian effort collapsed, almost all of the mountainous interior was controlled by various resistance groups. the germans took over the occupation from the italians and inflicted near-decisive defeat upon the guerrillas in january 1944. resistance grew again, however, as final defeat for the axis powers appeared certain, and by the end of 1944 guerrilla forces probably totaled about 70,000 men. in addition, by their count, they had suffered about 28,000 casualties. the communist-controlled national liberation movement had then solidified its hold over the guerrilla groups and was able to take over the country after the war. enver hoxha had been the chief political commissar of the general staff that was created in july 1943. from that post he rose rapidly to leadership of the group and through it became the head of the communist government that took over at the end of world war ii. albania's first communist military forces were equipped, trained, and modeled after yugoslavia's. when yugoslavia embarked on its separate road to socialism in 1948 and was expelled from the communist information bureau (cominform--see glossary), albania aligned directly with the soviet union. this did not involve an immediate change in materiel, organization, or training because the soviet union and yugoslavia had had much the same relationship before their break. soviet aid included advisory personnel, a considerable amount of modern conventional armament, a few small world war ii naval vessels, and a number of aircraft. this aid was halted entirely in 1961. the soviet submarine flotilla that had been based on sazan island, off vlore, passed gibraltar in june 1961 on its way back to northern soviet ports. communist china succeeded the soviet union as albania's ally. albania can provide china with little of tactical importance, but its value as an ally from a political standpoint has been sufficient to warrant continuation of aid in quantities sufficient to maintain the armed forces at about the same levels of personnel strength and equipment that they had achieved when they were supported by the soviet union, although interruptions in training are believed to have caused a deterioration in technical skills and know-how. the military establishment position in the government the people's army, which encompasses the ground, naval, and air arms of the regular armed forces, is under the ministry of people's defense, which, in turn, is within the council of ministers. the ministers are selected from the people's assembly which, with its presidium, is at the top of the governmental structure (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). in mid-1970 the minister of defense, beqir balluku, was also a deputy prime minister and a member of the political bureau (politburo) of the albanian workers' party. balluku had a military career background and held the rank of colonel general in the army before its ranks were abolished in 1966. as defense minister he exercised direct operational and administrative control over all elements of the military establishment. the people's army the army claims no antecedents in the forces of the pre-communist regimes and dates itself from july 10, 1943, when a general staff was formed within the guerrilla forces resisting the italian occupation. petrit dume, its chief of staff in 1970, had commanded the people's army for about twenty years. he was second only to balluku in the defense hierarchy and was also a candidate member of the politburo of the party organization. enver hoxha, first secretary of the albanian workers' party, held the rank of general of the army until rank designations were abolished but, although he could exercise personal direction of the armed forces as their commander in chief, he was not considered a member of the defense establishment. all of the regular military forces are within the people's army. the air and naval arms are usually treated separately because of their distinctive functions and equipment, but their men are sometimes referred to as naval and air soldiers. major subcommands, such as the army's directorates of political affairs and rear services (logistics), serve all service components. the same is the case with such organizations as the medical service that have functions applicable to all of the armed forces. at lower levels, where the functions of the forces are specialized in relation to their weapons, organizational patterns appear to be similar to those in most of the other armed forces throughout the communist world. during the post-world war ii formative years, force structures were adapted from those of the soviet union. realignments after 1961 to cooperate with the communist chinese are not believed to have affected them to any appreciable degree. some unit designations, such as army division, are not used in the peacetime organization and, in other situations, the sizes of units may be scaled down somewhat from normal international practice. rank designations were abolished in 1966. since then, according to the governmental decree that effected the change, position in the military hierarchy is based on the responsibilities stipulated in the relevant tables of organization of the armed forces. most of the personnel who would have fallen into the lower rank categories are acquired by conscription. men without highly skilled specialties are retained for two years; noncommissioned officers and others who receive special training are required to serve for longer periods. the stated mission of the armed forces in general and the ground forces in particular is to defend the country and to secure its governing system. the stated mission notwithstanding, support of the system is primarily the responsibility of the security police forces and, against an external opponent, the armed forces are believed to have only a defensive capability. unless albanian forces engaged an enemy that was also committed against a third party in a more general conflict, they would, of necessity, revert to guerrilla fighting. most of the training and much of the propaganda directed at the local population indicate that the leadership anticipates the possibility of guerrilla warfare. the party slogan, "the pick in one hand and the rifle in the other," also illustrates the dual use of service personnel in peacetime. they assist in the construction of industrial enterprises and hydroelectric plants and in land reclamation projects, crop harvests, and the like. they were used during the early 1960s, for example, in the construction of the oil refinery at cerrik; in building a sugar factory, a lumber combine, and a textile factory; and in the draining of lake maliq to acquire additional agricultural land in a marshy lake district area north of korce (see ch. 8, economic system). ground forces the ground forces contain about three-quarters of the regular personnel and are the backbone of the armed forces. consequently, many of the people's army functions that apply to all of the service components are administered within the ground force organization. because the active personnel strength of the ground forces is around 30,000--sufficient to man only about two divisions--the brigade has been chosen as the basic tactical unit. the brigades are manned with approximately 3,000 men each, and there are probably one tank and five infantry brigades. the infantry brigades are believed to contain three infantry battalions and a lightly equipped artillery regiment. the tank brigade has soviet-built weapons. most of them are world war ii t-34 medium tanks, but there are a few of the later model t-54s. almost all artillery is light and small caliber, since movement of heavy equipment is nearly impossible over much of the terrain. in addition, heavy weapons, their transport, or even their ammunition could not be produced locally, and little resupply from external sources could be expected in any lengthy conflict. in so small an area the rapid movement of forces would serve little purpose. the minimal amount of transport equipment available includes small numbers of soviet-designed armored personnel carriers, command cars, and a few types of trucks. before 1961 training was based on soviet methods, and specialized schools were scaled-down copies of those in the soviet army. training manuals were translated from the russian. although external support of the forces has been transferred from the soviet union to communist china, the chinese have apparently not required basic changes in the training programs. most conscripts have been exposed to a considerable amount of drill and elementary basic training in school and in communist youth organizations, permitting the forces to concentrate on tactical exercises. these consist mostly of small unit activities and involve fighting techniques appropriate to the defense of the mountainous interior. physical conditioning, tactics involving light weapons, and operations using a minimum of materiel support are emphasized on a continuing basis. political indoctrination, conducted or supervised by the political commissars, is heavily administered in all training programs. naval forces naval units are subordinate to the coastal defense command which, although a part of the people's army, is operationally responsible directly to the ministry of people's defense. none of the pre-world war ii navy survived the occupation and, as with the other branches of the service, the navy forgets any earlier ancestry and celebrates august 15, 1945, as its founding date. the senior naval officer is commander of naval forces, a deputy commander of coastal defense, and deputy minister of defense for naval affairs. in late 1969 ymer zeqir held these positions. as deputy commander of coastal defense he coordinated naval operations with those of the air defense and ground forces that would participate in defense of the coastal area. as deputy minister of defense he represented the naval forces in national defense planning and coordinated personnel, logistic support, and matters that are common to other branches of the armed forces. naval forces are divided into three commands: the submarine brigade, the vlore sea defense brigade, and the durres sea defense brigade. all combat ships are assigned to one of the three. the submarine brigade is based at the pasha liman anchorages south of the city of vlore, at the extreme southwestern point in the bay. main facilities of the vlore sea defense brigade are located on the island of sazan, in the mouth of the bay about ten miles west of vlore. this was the site of the soviet submarine base before 1961. the durres sea defense brigade controls the units stationed at durres and those that are locked within lake scutari. the buene river is navigable between lake scutari and the adriatic, but only the smallest of the ships in the lake can pass beneath the shkoder city bridges. the officially stated mission of the naval forces is to provide for the military security of coastal waters; to prevent smuggling; to prevent submarines from approaching the coast or harbors; to lay and sweep mines; to intercept enemy forces; to escort convoys along the coastline; and, together with police patrol boats, to control entries to, or exits from, the country. original soviet support for the navy was provided in order to secure a submarine and minelaying base with access to the mediterranean sea. forces available are considerably weaker than those of any one of the potential enemies and, with the exception of vlore, albanian harbors provide little natural protection. it is therefore probable that the leadership thinks in terms of peacetime shore patrols and would hope, in wartime, to use what units they were able to preserve to prevent totally uninhibited use of the seas adjacent to the country. in mid-1970 naval ships included three or four submarines, eight minesweepers, twelve motor torpedo boats, one or two oilers, and perhaps twenty-five or thirty more ships, about one-half of which were classed as coastal patrol and one-half as auxiliary types. the submarines are obsolescent medium-range boats. two of the minesweepers are oceangoing vessels; the other six can sweep harbors or inshore seas only. most of the miscellaneous vessels were formerly italian, of world war ii and earlier vintages. albanian sources claim that a dozen newer torpedo boats have been supplied by the chinese, six of them hydrofoil types. naval personnel number approximately 3,000. since many of the ships put to sea infrequently, many of the navy men do part-time fishing or agricultural work. familiarity with ships helps a new conscript get a naval assignment, and many of those drafted are from the vicinities of vlore or durres and may serve their three years being only rarely out of sight of home. their morale is only fair. officers are required to have a general education that includes at least some university credits. they receive specialized courses before going to sea. before 1961 most officers and some of the higher noncommissioned officer ratings received some training in the soviet union. without this training or a chinese substitute for it, there has probably been some degradation in the technical capabilities of the officer and noncommissioned officer personnel. air force the albanian air force is the youngest of the service branches, founded on april 23, 1951. as is the case with the navy, the air force is also a part of the people's army, having organizational and logistic individuality only insofar as its equipment is different and requires different techniques and skills in its use. arif hasko, chief of the air force in mid-1970, was also a deputy minister of defense and, as was the case with his naval counterpart, advised on problems peculiar to his force and coordinated on matters of general interest to all branches of the service. air defense artillery and missile units are usually included with the air force and account for about two-thirds of its 5,000 to 7,000 personnel. air defense units received soviet equipment between 1948 and 1961, including that required at a few surface-to-air missile sites. their guideline missiles were paraded in tirana on army day of 1964 and have been shown on occasion since. the original missiles supplied by the soviets would have outlived their storage lifetimes by 1970. if a surface-to-air missile capability did exist at that time, the chinese would have supplied the necessary replacements. aircraft in 1970 included sixty to seventy fighters and fighter-bombers and about the same number of transports, trainers, and miscellaneous noncombat types. all were of soviet design. fighter-bombers or ground attack aircraft were the jet mig-15s and mig-17s provided by the soviet union before 1961. spare parts necessary to keep them operating since then have been supplied by communist china. mig-19s for the air defense interceptor role have also been furnished by the chinese. it is believed that the 1970 force included four ground support squadrons and probably two interceptor squadrons, with about ten or twelve aircraft per squadron. air-to-air missiles are an integral part of the mig-19 armament and are presumably being furnished in small quantities by the chinese. transport squadrons contain a few soviet-built piston-engined il-14s and an-2s, some soviet-built helicopters, and possibly a few helicopters built by the chinese. the five principal airbases are located near tirana, shijak (about twenty miles west of tirana), vlore, sazan island (at the mouth of vlore bay), and at stalin (about forty miles south of tirana). the base on sazan island that was built and used by the russians has been used intermittently, if at all, since the russians evacuated it in 1961. helicopter bases have been, or are being, constructed at several inland cities as well as at tirana, shkoder, and as a part of the major base at vlore. the forces had no surface-to-surface missile capability in 1970. the missions assigned to the combat elements of the air force are to repel an enemy at the borders and to prevent the violation of albanian airspace. because the force is small, could not easily be resupplied, has exposed bases, and possesses no appreciable area to retreat into, however, it could not be expected to contribute significantly to any sustained combat effort. it serves mainly to provide the regime with ostensive evidence of its power and technological progress. mobilization potential in the event of total mobilization there are just under 500,000 males between the ages of fifteen and fifty. of the total group approximately 75 percent, or nearly 375,000, are physically fit. more than half of these have had some military service, and a sizable group participates in military reserve activities (see ch. 4, the people). information as to how the existing establishment would be expanded is not available. units active in 1970 could be enlarged to about double their peacetime strengths because all units are usually maintained at considerably below combat readiness strengths. new units would probably be created in infantry or guerrilla forces. additional tank, air, and naval units would require more of their special equipment before they could become operational. some women probably would be mobilized. the national economy, however, could not provide logistic support for the number of male personnel available, and external support would be necessary. political indoctrination at the time of the communist takeover in 1944 and in the years immediately thereafter, political commissars were an integral part of the military organization. they were considered essential in order to assure that ideological beliefs were constant and were adhered to without deviation. as the years passed they lost their early importance and were eventually done away with, but they were reinstated in 1966 when alignment with communist china brought renewed revolutionary fervor. how much their organization and operations in 1970 differed from what they were in 1944 is not clearly understood, but the fact that they were still called political commissars was a strong indication that they performed basically the same functions. there is no question but that the justification for their existence was the same--that is, to ensure that the ideological and political orientation of the troops and of their leaders did not deviate from the party line. the decree that reinstated the commissars stated that they would be assigned in all units, subunits, and military establishments. this presumably means that there are commissars in all base organizations and in tactical units down at least to the company level. it is also known that political directorates in both the ministry of people's defense and the ministry of the interior control the commissars in the armed forces and the security forces, respectively. political commissars are carefully selected from the standpoint of ideological reliability. those appointed since 1966 must have had five years of unblemished party membership. those in the armed forces who are attached to the lower levels of the organizational structure are responsible to the political directorate and the party organization rather than to superior officers within the military command channels. hito cako was chief of the people's army political directorate in 1970. in addition to the military court system, discipline is enforced as part of the educational and ideological training program by the political workers who act in conjunction with the party organizations in service units. they are invited to take measures necessary against individuals whose attitude or conduct is considered harmful to the effectiveness of, or discipline within, the army. military schools other than those that are set up for specialized training, there are three military schools providing curricula aimed at producing officer personnel or offering advanced military theory. the skanderbeg military school is a secondary or preparatory school. it is attended by children of top party, government, and military leaders and prepares them for entrance into the enver hoxha united army officers school. the hoxha school is the oldest military educational institution in the country. it started a formal curriculum in 1945 but, according to party claims, was in operation before the world war ii occupation forces left the country in 1944. it is the military academy that provides a university level curriculum and whose students become commissioned officers upon graduation. the mehmet shehu military academy is named for the man who in 1970 was premier (chairman of the council of ministers) and also a member of the party politburo. shehu was a lieutenant general before 1966 and was considered one of the country's most capable military leaders. the academy is the advanced military institution that offers career training equivalent to that of command and staff or war college institutions in western military establishments. military medicine the medical services were organized during the 1950s along the lines of those in the soviet and east european communist forces in order to facilitate cooperation among them. although there has been no such cooperation since 1961, the basic organization was unchanged in 1963 and probably remained basically the same in 1970. the head of the medical establishment has the title of chief, albanian armed forces medical service. he is responsible to the chief of the rear services, which is one of the unified directorates directly beneath the ministry of people's defense. naval, air force, and ground force staffs are responsible to him, but the naval and air force groups appear to have a largely advisory capacity, except as they work to secure the services required by their branches of the service. the hospital, pharmaceutical, and personnel sections, however, are operated by the deputy chief of medical services, who is also head of the ground forces' medical department. albanian sources state that there is close cooperation between the military medical service and the ministry of health. the forces' medical personnel, facilities, equipment, and medicines have been used to improve sanitary and medical conditions in less developed areas and to provide assistance in flood, earthquake, and other emergency situations. decorations recognition for high standards of conduct, exceptional effort, or noteworthy accomplishment is bestowed lavishly. highly prized decorations include the partisan star, order of the albanian flag, order of the national hero, and order of skanderbeg. other decorations that are worn by a few of the highest military and party officials include the memorial medal, the order of liberty (or order of freedom), the liberation medal, order of the people's hero (or hero of the people), and order of valor. some of the decorations, including the partisan star and order of skanderbeg, are awarded in three classes. this group of decorations is usually awarded individually, but on rare occasions some can be presented to a group. the order of labor (or hero of socialist labor) and the red flag order (or red banner) may be presented to individuals, usually civilians, but are most frequently reported when awarded to a group or an enterprise. typical recipients would be a factory for overfulfilling its quotas, a ship after completing an unusual voyage, or a military unit that had performed well in some civic project or in an emergency relief situation. paramilitary training in november 1944, when partisan resistance forces were at their peak strength of about 70,000, about 6,000 of them were women and 1,000 were boys under fifteen years of age. formal paramilitary training was undertaken in 1945, shortly after the hoxha regime gained control, and was made obligatory for all young people in 1953. training has been developed to the point that fifteento nineteen-year-old youths can be organized into their own auxiliary units in emergencies. major revisions to the secondary school and university military training programs were announced in 1969 in preparation for implementation during the ensuing school year. the extent of training, what it would include, and aims of the new program were given wide publicity throughout 1969 in order to ease the transition. the purpose of the programs is to provide the armed forces with conscripts who are in good physical condition and who have sufficient basic military training to permit them to step directly into a military unit and perform usefully with a minimum of adjustment and little additional training. beginning in 1970 the secondary school year was to consist of 6-â½ months of academic work, 2-â½ months of physical work in agriculture or industry, 1 month of military training, and 2 months of relaxation. according to official guidance, however, the youths are encouraged to use their relaxation period for "ideological and physical steeling." the university year would consist of 7 months of academic work, 2 months of military training, 1 month of physical work, and 2 months of ideological and physical steeling. physical training of the type that contributes most to future military service is encouraged. specific goals to be derived from it are basic physical improvement in speed, agility, strength, and resistance and the moral attributes of bravery, strong will, and personal discipline. light sports, such as volleyball, are discouraged. track, wrestling, and body contact sports are advised. swimming and skiing are also considered to have military applications. it is recommended that calisthenics and physical culture activities be carried on in large groups. military instruction includes close order drill, crawling and obstacle penetration, storming techniques, and hand-to-hand combat. academic courses in the military area train in the care and use of various types of weapons, the theories of military art, and the techniques of conventional and guerrilla warfare. schools organize marches and excursions that are combined with tactical military exercises to give them a wholly military character. most of these are designed to teach guerrilla warfare tactics. overnight stalking exercises feature searches for intruder groups, a simulated target demolition, or some such objective. girls as well as boys are required to participate. tirana press photographs have shown some groups of girls engaged in mortar training, others in target shooting. in the 1969 tirana may day parade girls, in ranks of fifteen abreast, carried submachineguns. when the programs have been completely implemented, students in the first and second years of secondary schooling will receive all of their physical and military training at their schools. it will be supervised by teachers and military officers assigned to the schools. thirdand fourth-year students will have part of the training at their schools, but with entire day or week periods devoted to the program. they will also spend a part of the allocated month in military units to which the school is attached for the purpose. facilities are not adequate in many schools, and in many areas military units are not immediately available to assist in training. it will be several years before the complete revised programs can be implemented. the first year's effort, however, involves about 10,000 university students and about 170,000 other people. the latter figure includes schoolteachers, military personnel who cooperate in the training, and others who provide miscellaneous voluntary or part-time assistance, in addition to those who receive the training. students in the program have been compared with those in the communist chinese red guard, but the organization of the albanian program is designed to keep it closely aligned with the school curriculum and with active military units to prevent large-scale independent action by youth groups. paramilitary programs of party-sponsored youth organizations are similar in many ways to those in the school system. pioneers take children, both boys and girls, between the ages of seven and fourteen. a group of these young pioneers carried rifles and submachineguns in the 1968 tirana may day parade. from ages fifteen to twenty-five they may belong to the union of albanian working youth, frequently called the communist youth movement. the union of albanian working youth had 210,000 members in 1967. nearly all personnel drafted into the armed forces fall within the youth movement's age brackets, and its units within the services are active. political and ideological indoctrination is intensive in these organizations and prepares the youth for possible membership in the party in later years (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). military justice there is no distinction between the civil judicial order in general and the military order in particular, but military crimes are treated in a separate chapter of the penal code. that chapter treats those acts, committed by persons under the jurisdiction of military courts, that are directed against military discipline, military orders, and the like. they include a broad variety of violations against persons, property, or the state. a military crime, in the albanian system, has two characteristics distinguishing it from nonmilitary crimes. the crime is committed against regulations established for the performance of military service, and the defendant is a member of the armed forces. for criminal justice the security forces under the ministry of the interior and all local police are considered armed forces and are subject to military law and to trial in military courts, as are reservists or persons called to military or police duty for short periods. also, military violations are believed to include a variety of crimes against the state that might not be classed as military in western countries, including some in the so-called socially dangerous category. as is the case in the soviet union, persons who fail to report on others committing crimes are themselves liable. military courts are selected by the people's assembly or by its presidium when it is not in session. members are military personnel and ordinarily serve on a court for three years. each court has a chairman, vice chairman, and a number of members called assistant judges. the chairman and at least one of the assistant judges must be military superiors of the defendant. in exceptional circumstances the people's assembly may appoint a special court for a particular case or a group of cases. a special court may be all or only partially military. such a court was appointed, for example, when vice admiral teme seyko, commander of the naval forces, was accused in 1961 of "having been in league with the imperialist americans, greek monarcho-fascists and yugoslav revisionists." the admiral was executed. when crimes are committed during military operations, sentences are heavier than when the same offenses are committed under conditions where duress is not a factor. during combat or wartime circumstances, legislative acts call for the most severe penalties. the military establishment and the national economy according to official government pronouncements relating to the state budget, 471 million leks (5 leks equal us$1) were appropriated for defense expenditures in 1970. that amount is 9.2 percent of the total planned expenditures of 5,110 million leks, or about 225 leks per inhabitant during the year. whether or not all expenses that would fall within the defense category in western countries are included in these figures is not known. it is the practice in some communist governments to distribute peripheral defense costs among other agency appropriations (see ch. 8, economic system). the defense budget was increased drastically in 1969 and 1970 over the levels of earlier years, apparently in reaction to the soviet invasion of czechoslovakia. the midyear calculated expenditures for 1969 represented an increase of about 38 percent over those of 1968, and 1970 projections showed another 12.2 percent anticipated increase over 1969. the burden represented by 225 leks per person can be illustrated by relating it to income and costs of living. in 1967, for example, a typical head of family worker earned about 7,200 leks per year. the average family group consisted of between five and six persons, and about 90 percent of its earnings was required for food and housing. in the preponderant majority of situations where there was only one wage earner per family, therefore, per capita defense costs exceeded everything that the family had available for all uses except food and shelter. the 50,000 men in the regular and security forces represent about 2.4 percent of the population, but each annual draft takes a number that is equal to roughly one-half of the young men that become nineteen years old during the year. there is no reliable information as to how willingly the average citizen performs his military service or whether or not his contribution is appreciated by the remainder of the people. the controlled-communications media do everything possible to promote good morale among those in the service and to show that the public supports them. foreign military relations small, underdeveloped, and suffering continually from an unfavorable balance of trade, albania has always needed assistance to maintain even a small military force. accepting aid from italy before world war ii resulted in a severe curtailment of national initiative in the employment of the forces and probably contributed to their immobility at the time of the italian invasion in 1939. between 1945 and 1948 yugoslavia's control over albania's forces was tighter than italy's had been. in addition to technical advisers and instructors in regular service units, the communist party organization provided an effective vehicle for controlling the reliability of personnel, particularly the military leadership. because the soviet union, like italy, was physically separated from the country it was a more desirable ally than neighboring yugoslavia had been. it was nonetheless able to maintain tighter controls over albanian forces than either yugoslavia or italy had achieved. general petrit dume, who was commander of the people's army during its dependence on the soviet union and still was in 1970, had said in november of 1952 that his force was an integral part of the soviet army. albania became one of the original warsaw treaty organization members in 1955. separated from the other signatories, its forces were unable to participate in the pact's field exercises and after 1961, because of its rift with the soviet union, was not invited to attend the organization's meetings. in 1968, protesting the soviet invasion of czechoslovakia, albania formally withdrew from the pact. communist china was albania's only military ally in 1970. in 1970 the chinese were believed to be enabling albania to maintain its forces at approximately the same levels that had been reached by 1960 with soviet assistance (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). security forces albanian sources publish little concerning the security police except for some articles expressing gratitude for their services and a smattering of information relative to their responsibilities. few of the observers who have visited the country since 1945 have been in positions to see, or have been qualified to judge, their actual performance. it is undoubtedly true that the albanian leadership emulated many of joseph stalin's techniques for controlling the population, that it modified its attitudes and practices less than did the other east european communist countries after stalin's death, and that it has maintained a high degree of stalinism since its break with the soviet union and alignment with communist china (see ch. 6, government structure and political system). there is probably credibility in reports stating that no other communist country has as extensive a police and security organization relative to its size as that which operates in albania. hoxha has regarded the security police as an elite group, and they have been the mainstay of his power. by 1961, although arrests had tapered off from earlier levels, fourteen concentration or labor camps were still in use. foreign visitors in tirana have reported that it is impossible to move around the city without escorts and that conversations with ordinary citizens are discouraged. local police, servicemen, and security police are in evidence everywhere. all security and police forces were responsible in the governmental structure to the ministry of the interior. the minister in 1970 was kadri hasbiu. each organization--the directorate of state security, the people's police, and the frontier guards--constituted a separate directorate of the ministry. the total regular uniformed security personnel numbered approximately 12,500. this figure did not include the plainclothes security police, informers, or the citizens who were performing their two months of mandatory auxiliary duty attached to local police units. a larger proportion of personnel in the security forces are party members than is the case in the regular military forces. in the state security organization, nearly all of those who serve in important positions are believed to be party members. in the frontier guards the officers and many of the men are party members. the directorate of state security the directorate of state security (drejtorija e sigurimit te shtetit--commonly abbreviated to sigurimi) is organized into four battalions and has more plainclothes personnel than uniformed. it celebrates march 20, 1943, as its founding day and is credited by hoxha and others of the party leadership as having been instrumental in the victory of his faction of the partisan effort. actually the people's defense division, from which the sigurimi evolved, was formed in 1945. composed at that time of some 5,000 of the most reliable of the resistance fighters, it was headed initially by koci xoxe, who was executed as a titoist four years later. mihalaq zicishti was its chief in 1970. the stated missions of the security police are to prevent counterrevolution and to eliminate opposition to the party and government. its interests are directed toward political and ideological opposition rather than crimes against persons or property unless such crimes appear to have national implications. in the late 1950s the sigurimi had seven sections: political, censorship, public records, prison camp, two sections for counterespionage, and a foreign service. the political section's primary function was the penetration of opposition political factions. one of the counterespionage sections was specialized and had only a responsibility for eliminating underground organizations. the censorship section operated not only with the press, radio, publications, and other communications media but with cultural societies, schools, and schoolteachers. the public records section was also charged with ideological supervision of economic agencies. sigurimi personnel at labor camps attended to the political reeducation of the inmates and evaluated the degree to which they remained socially dangerous; camp guards were local police. the foreign service section placed its personnel as widely as possible in order to maintain contact with aliens or foreigners in the country and in diplomatic and visiting groups. sigurimi personnel may be conscripts called during the annual draft or may be career volunteers. personnel are screened, and the conditions of service are made sufficiently attractive to secure as reliable and dedicated men as possible. frontier guards the frontier guards are organized into five battalions. individual units are manned with fewer personnel than sigurimi battalions, however, and the total strength of the force is lower. although the force is organized strictly along military lines, it is under the ministry of the interior and is more closely associated with the security police than with the regular armed forces. the stated mission of the frontier guards is to protect the state's borders and to take action against spies, criminals, smugglers, and infiltrators along the boundaries. in the process they also prevent albanians from leaving the country. frontier guards personnel, like those of the sigurimi, may be acquired during the annual conscription. career personnel are often those who have served tours in the regular services. a guards' school was established in 1953 in tirana. its students, as well as others allowed in the force, are carefully screened for political reliability. people's police the people's police has five branches--the police for economic objectives, communications police, fire police, detention police, and general police. the police for economic objectives serve as guards for state buildings, factories, construction projects, and similar enterprises. communications police guard bridges, railways, and wire lines. firefighting is a police function, accomplished by the fire police. detention police are prison and camp guards. the fifth branch, the general police, attend to traffic regulation, local crime, and other duties usually performed by local or municipal police. general police functions overlap those of the security police to some extent, but the force operates in the local, as opposed to the national, environment. headquarters in the larger towns have security sections that maintain records on suspected anti-communists, an alien section that maintains contact with albanians outside their own districts as well as aliens, and a political commissar who is so placed as to assure the proper political orientation of all other personnel. citizens are required to carry identification cards. these contain family and employment data and, as they are needed even for intervillage travel, constitute an effective control over movement of the population. minimum service on the police force is for three years. individuals with earlier service in the armed forces, security police, or frontier guards are preferred. auxiliary police a 1948 law requires that all able-bodied men serve two months assisting the local police. they perform with the regular people's police of their localities, wear the police uniform made distinguishable only by a red armband, and serve without pay. the auxiliary police program serves a dual purpose. it provides additional help for the police forces. of more overall value, it gives a sizable portion of the population some familiarity with, and presumably a more sympathetic understanding of, police activities and problems. bibliography recommended sources "albania: first atheist state in the world," _radio free europe research departments: communist area_, october 1967, 1-3. _albania: geographical, historical and economic data._ tirana: naim frasheri state publishing house, 1964. albanian historical society of massachusetts. _the albanian struggle in the old world and new._ (works progress administration series.) boston: writer, 1939. amery, julian. _sons of the eagle: a study in guerrilla war._ london: macmillan, 1948. brezezinsky, zbigniew k. _the soviet bloc: unity and conflict._ (rev. ed.) cambridge: harvard university press, 1967. conti, massimo. "l'albania," _la stampa_ (turin), august 31-september 12, 1969. coon, carleton s. _the mountain of giants: a racial and cultural study of the north albanian mountain ghegs._ cambridge: harvard university press, 1950. dhima, dhimo m. _e drejta kushtetuese e republikes popullore te shqiperise._ tirana: n.i.s.h. shtypshkronjave "mihal duri," 1963. "dog wags tail," _economist_, ccxix, no. 6404, may 21, 1966, 814. _europa: the world of learning_, 1969-70. london: europa publications, 1970, 57. _europa year book_, 1969, i. london: europa publications, 1969, 454-458. _the facts about soviet-albanian relations._ tirana: naim frasheri state publishing house, 1964. "4 albanians end athens trade visit, first in 20 years," _new york times_, june 30, 1970, 9. gardiner, leslie. "albania: last lonely stronghold," _u.s. naval institute proceedings_, xciii, no. 10, october 1967, 53-59. gegaj, athanas, and krasniqi, rexhep. _albania._ new york: assembly of captive european nations, 1964. great britain. admiralty. naval intelligence division. _albania._ (geographical handbook series.) london: n.pub., 1945. griffith, william e. _albania and the sino-soviet rift._ cambridge: massachusetts institute of technology press, 1963. grovski, vladimir, and grzybowski, kazimierz. _government, law, and courts in the soviet union and eastern europe_, i and ii. new york: praeger, 1959. hamm, harry. _albania: china's beachhead in europe._ new york: praeger, 1963. hoffman, paul. "albania signs new trade pact with china and condemns u.s.," _new york times_, january 21, 1970, c-8. hoxha, enver. "ne cdo pune te zbatojme nje metode dhe stil leninist revolucionar," _rruga e partise_ (party path), xvi, no. 7, july 1969, 4-15. ----. _vepra_, i. tirana: shtepia botonjese "naim frasheri," 1968. _illustrated library of the world and its peoples: yugoslavia, rumania, bulgaria, albania._ new york: greystone press, 1965. instituti i studimeve marxiste-leniniste prane kq te phsh. _mbi klasat dhe luften e klasave._ tirana: shtepia botonjese "naim frasheri," 1967. kertesz, stephen d. _east central europe and the world: developments in the post-stalin era._ notre dame: university of notre dame press, 1962. _kodifikimi i pergjithshem i legjislacionit ne fuqi te republikes popullore te shqiperise_, i. tirana: shtepia botonjese "naim frasheri," 1958. koliqi, ernesto. "albania." pages 370-531 in _enciclopedia dei popoli d'europa_, i. milan: m. canfalonieri, 1965. _kongresi i peste i partise se punes te shqiperise._ tirana: shtepia botonjese "naim frasheri," 1966. krasniqi, rexhep. "persecution of religion in communist albania," _acen news_, no. 128, march-april 1967, 17-20. kristo, frasheri. _the history of albania: a brief survey._ tirana: n.pub., 1964. may, jacques m. (ed.) _the ecology of malnutrition in five countries of eastern and central europe_, iv: east germany, poland, yugoslavia, albania, greece. new york: hafner, 1963. pano, nicholas c. _the people's republic of albania._ baltimore: john hopkins press, 1968. pipa, fehime. _nji shekull shkolle shqipe, 1861-1961._ rome: arti grafiche editoriali a. urbanite, 1961. plasari, n.; mara, h.; and misja, _v. partia e punes s shqiperise._ tirana: n. sh. botime "naim frasheri," 1962. pounds, norman j.g. _eastern europe._ chicago: aldine, 1969. prybyla, jan s. "albania's economic vassalage," _east europe_, xvi, no. 1, january 1967, 9-14. republika popullore e shqiperise. "aresimi dhe kultura." pages 115-130 in _vjetari statistikor i r. p. sh._, 1967-1968. tirana: 1968. ----. "mbi sistemin aresimor," _gazeta zyrtare_ (tirana), no. 10, december 31, 1969, 112-117. roucek, joseph s., and lattich, kenneth v. _behind the iron curtain._ coldwell: caxton printers, 1964. shehu, mehmet. "mbi konklusionet e diskutimit popullor per revolucionarizimin a metejshem te shkolles tone," _arsimi popullor_ (people's education), no. 4, july-august 1969, 21-103. skendi, stavro. _the albanian national awakening, 1878-1912._ princeton: princeton university press, 1967. ----. _the emergence of the modern balkan literary languages--a comparative approach._ (school of international affairs, institute on east central europe, columbia university.) wiesbaden: otto harrassowitz, 1964. ----. "the history of the albanian alphabet: a case of complex cultural and political development," _sudost forschungen_ (munich), xix, 1960, 263-284. ----. _the political evolution of albania, 1912-1944._ new york: mid-european studies centers, march 8, 1954. skendi, stavro (ed.). _albania._ new york: praeger, 1956. _statistical yearbook, 1967._ paris: united nations educational, scientific and cultural organization, 1968. _statistical yearbook of the german democratic republic, 1969._ berlin: state publishing house, 1969. stokes, william lee. _essentials of earth history._ englewood cliffs: prentice-hall, 1966. thomas, john i. _education for communism: school and state in the people's republic of albania._ (hoover institution studies, xxii.) stanford: hoover institution press, 1969. triska, jan f. (ed.) _constitutions of the communist party-states._ (hoover institution publications 70.) stanford: hoover institution on war, revolution, and peace, 1968. _twenty years of socialism in albania._ tirana: naim frasheri state publishing house, 1964. u.s. congress. 83d, 1st session. senate. committee on foreign relations. _tensions within the soviet captive countries: albania._ (document no. 70, part 6.) washington: gpo, 1954. u.s. department of commerce. bureau of the census. foreign demographic analysis division. _projections of the population of the communist countries of eastern europe, by age and sex, 1969 to 1990._ (international population reports series, p91, no. 18.) washington: gpo, 1969. u.s. department of commerce. office of technical services. joint publications research service (washington). the following publications are jprs translations from foreign sources: "abuses of principle of compensation according to labor," by dervish gjiriti, in _puna_ (labor), tirana, 1970. (jprs: 50,847, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 310, 1970.) "advanced technology: an important factor in surmounting the artisan stage of industrial production," by koco theodhosi, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 47,891, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 114, 1969.) "against the handicraft method of management in the engineering industry," by vangjush gambeta, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 47,544, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 92, 1969.) "the agricultural tasks of 1970 demand greater use of organic fertilizer," by xhemal barushi, in _bashkimi_ (unity), tirana, 1970. (jprs: 50,065, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 265, 1970.) "bank activities and bank control as a component part of state control must be improved," by zeqir lika, in _ekonomia popullore_ (people's economy), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 48,892, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 186, 1969.) "concentration and specialization cannot be accomplished without a struggle against outdated concepts," by fejzo rino, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 46,647, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 41, 1968.) "control by the working class and problems of finance and accounting," by mensur saraci, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 46,647, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 41, 1968.) "the country's power resources and the ways to use them more economically," by harilla nishku, in _ekonomia popullore_ (people's economy), tirana, 1970. (jprs: 50,784, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 305, 1970.) "development of the machine industry," by thoma afezolli, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1969 (jprs: 48,685, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 171, august 26, 1969.) "disappearance and reduction of social and general diseases, great victory of the party in the health field," by josif adhami, et al., in _shendetesia popullore_ (people's health), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 50,302, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, 1969.) "elements of internal democracy in the agricultural cooperatives in berat district," by omer mero, in _bashkimi_ (unity), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 46,439, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 34, 1968.) "expansion of mechanization in agriculture," by xhelal shkreta, in _ekonomia popullore_ (people's economy), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 47,515, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 90, 1969.) "the extension and protection of the forests is the responsibility of all the people," by thoma dine, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 48,096, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 129, 1969.) "for the implementation of the tasks concerning the further revolutionization of our schools," by mehmet shehu, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968 (jprs: 45,432, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 256, 1968.) "the great revolutionary transformations in the development of our socialist health on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the victory of the people's revolution and the establishment of the dictatorship of the proletariat," by ciril pistoli, in _shendetesia popullore_ (people's health), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 50,345, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological, and military affairs_, no. 207, 1970.) "immediate interests must be correctly combined with long-term ones," by perikli samsuri, in _bashkimi_ (unity), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 49,222, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 221, 1969.) "improper use of investment funds," by andrea nako, in _bashkimi_ (unity), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 46,570, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 38, 1968.) "the improvement of fodder: a fundamental condition of the development of livestock," by andrea shundi and petrit disdardi, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1970. (jprs: 49,941, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 256, 1970.) "increased savings deposits: an index of growing prosperity," by ramadan citaku, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 49,222, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 211, 1969.) "labor productivity in industry must be raised," by jonuz drishti, in _ekonomia popullore_ (people's economy), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 46,163, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 21, 1968.) "let us expand and perfect our labor force plans," by besim bardhoshi, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 46,940, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 57, 1968.) "let us further develop the struggle for the mechanization of work processes," by pjeter kosta, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1969, (jprs: 48,647, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 166, 1969.) "let us further intensify the participation of the working masses in reinforcing the savings regimen," by aleks verli, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 48,349, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 143. 1969.) "let us strengthen the movement of the working class for the overall development of the villages," by sotir kamberi, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 45,815, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological, and military affairs_, no. 9, 1968.) "let us take all necessary measures to organize better the export of vegetables and fruit," by thechar fundo, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 45,432, _translations on eastern europe_, no. 256, 1968.) "massive scientific experimentation is an important factor in the socialist transformation of our agriculture," by pirro dodbiba, in _bashkimi_ (unity), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 47,948, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 118, 1969.) "the maximum utilization of labor time demands regular material and technical supply," by pjeter kosta, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1970, (jprs: 50,112, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 286. 1970.) "on fulfillment of the 1969 state plan and budget and on tasks of the 1970 draft state plan and budget," by abdyl kellezi, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1970, (jprs: 50,060, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 264, 1970.) "on some of the problems of setting work norms in agricultural cooperatives," by lefter peco, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 49,190, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 209, 1969.) "on the work of the party and mass organizations and of economic and state organs for a further increase of productivity and strengthening of proletarian discipline at work," by xhafer spahiu, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 49,716, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 242, 1969.) "powerful fraternal aid in the spirit of proletarian internationalism," by pupo shyti, in _ekonomia popullore_ (people's economy), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 47,677, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 100, 1969.) "problems of mechanization in raising livestock and of farm machinery repair and maintenance bases," by xhelal shkreta, in _ekonomia popullore_ (people's economy), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 47,677, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 100, 1969.) "progress of the machine industry" by tago adhami, in _ekonomia popullore_ (people's economy), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 46,163, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 21. 1968.) "proper utilization of work time: an important factor for fulfilling and surpassing planned tasks," by hajredin celiku, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 47,550, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 93, 1969.) "protection of mother and child health, the high expression of socialist humanism, realized by the party during the 25 years of people's power," by vera ngjela et al., in _shendetesia popullore_ (people's health), tirana, 1969 (jprs: 50,302, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological, and military affairs_, no. 204, 1970.) "the ratio between means of production and consumer goods," by besim bardhoshi, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 47,242, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 77, 1969.) "rebuilding: one of the most important ways to modernize industry," by harilla papajorgji, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1970. (jprs: 50,304, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 378, 1970.) "relations of collective ownership in agricultural cooperatives are improving," by munir como, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1970. (jprs: 50,304, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 278, 1970.) "rising labor productivity: an economic law of socialism," by zeqir lika, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1970. (jprs: 50,201, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 272, 1970.) "shortcomings of the vegetable supply," by avni oktrova, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968 (jprs: 46,205, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 22, 1968.) "some of the problems of the socialist organization of labor," by koco stefani, in _bashkimi_ (unity), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 49,305, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 214, 1969.) "the strengthening and growth of the various branches and sectors: important factors in cooperation between and the overall development of cooperative villages," by baki karalliu, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 47,134, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 71, 1968.) "the struggle to raise healthy children and reduce the mortality rate: a great social and medical problem," by sh. josa, r. cikuli, and xh. basha, in _shendetesia popullore_ (people's health), tirana, 1969. (jprs: 50,345, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological and military affairs_, no. 207, 1970.) "why are unnecessary materials imported?," by gaslli vllamasi, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 46,876, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 53, 1968.) "the youth discharged from the army: a great force for the development of subsidiary activities in our socialist villages," by vasil premti, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 47,134, _translations on eastern europe, economic and industrial affairs_, no. 71. 1968.) _vjetari statistikor i r. p. sh._ tirana: republika popullore e shqiperise, drejtoria e statistikes, 1967-68. vokopola, kemal. "the albanian customary law," _quarterly journal of the library of congress_, xxv, no. 4, october 1968, 306-315. ----. "church and state in albania," _committee on the judiciary, united states senate_, ii, april 2, 1965, 33-47. whitaker, ian. "tribal structure and national politics in albania, 1910-1950." pages 253-293 in _a.s.a. monographs, no. 7: history and anthropology._ london: tavistock publications, 1968. "with a hand across your lens," _economist_, ccxxiv, no. 6,464, july 15, 1967, 210. _world radio-tv handbook, 1970._ (ed., j.m. frost.) (24th ed.) soliljevej: h.p.j. meakin, 1970. _worldmark encyclopedia of the nations_, v: europe. new york: harper and row, 1967. _yearbook on international communist affairs, 1968._ (ed., richard v. allen.) standford: hoover institution press, 1969. zavalani, t. _histori e shqipnis_, ii. london: poets and painters press, 1966. other sources used "albanian drama under foreign influences," _radio free europe: research departments_, may 6, 1965. "albania's 1969 plan fulfillment and the 1970 plan," _radio free europe research: communist area_, march 2, 1970, 1-11. "albania's rapid economic growth at the expense of the consumer," _radio free europe research: communist area_, january 10, 1970, 1-5. capps, edward. _greece, albania, and northern epirus._ chicago: arganout, 1963. churchill, winston s. _the second world war:_ vi: triumph and tragedy. cambridge: riverside press, 1953. ciano, galeazzo. _the ciano diaries, 1939-1943._ garden city: doubleday, 1946. cusack, dymphna. _illyria reborn._ london: heinemann, 1966. djilas, milovan. _conversations with stalin._ new york: harcourt, brace and world, 1962. _fjalor i gjuhes shqipe._ tirana: instituti i shkencavet sekcioni i gjuhes e i letersise, 1954. foreign broadcast information service. _broadcasting stations of the world._ part i: amplitude modulation broadcasting stations according to country and city. washington: gpo, september 1, 1969. frasheri, kristo. _the history of albania._ tirana: n.pub., 1964. _gazeta zyrtare_ (tirana), no. 6, september 29, 1966, 151-169. instituti i studimeve marksiste-leniniste prane kq te phsh. _historia e partise se punes te shqiperise._ tirana: shtepia botonjese "naim frasheri," 1968. jacomoni de san savio, francesco. _la politica dell' italia in albania._ rocca san casciano: cappelli editore, 1965. kasneci, lefter. _rruga e lavdishme e ushterise popullore._ tirana: "naim frasheri," 1963. koliqi, ernesto. "albania." pages 370-531 in _enciclopedia dei popoli d'europa_, i. milan: m. canfalonieri, 1965. kondi, piro. "to follow the experience of work in studying the history of the party," _zeri i popullit_, february 3, 1970, 2. lendvai, paul. _eagles in cobwebs--nationalism and communism in the balkans._ garden city: doubleday, 1969. logoreci, anton. "politics in flux; albania: the anabaptist of european communism," _problems of communism_, xvi, no. 3, may-june 1967, 22-28. _1970 world population data sheet._ washington: population reference bureau, 1970. omari, luan; dode, petro; and beqja, hamit. _20 vjetori shqiperi socialiste._ tirana: n. sh., botime "naim frasheri," 1964. "opposition to the albanian cultural revolution," _radio free europe: research departments_, september 22, 1966. _organizatat-baze te partise per revolucionarizimin e metejshem te jetes se vendit._ tirana: shtepia botonjese "naim frasheri," 1968. pacrami, f. "duke kaluar nga diskutimi ne zbatim per revolucionarizimin e metejshem te shkolles, rruga e partise," xvi, no. 8, july 1969. _political handbook and atlas of the world: parliaments, parties, and press._ (ed., walter h. mallory.) new york: simon and schuster, 1968. _the road to communism._ (documents of the 22nd congress of the communist party of the soviet union, october 17-31.) moscow: foreign languages publishing house, n.d. "situation report," _radio free europe: research departments_, april 19, 1967. sphiu, xh. "mbi disa probleme te punes se partise ne fshat per ngushtimin e dallimeve esenciale midis qytetit dhe fshatit, midis zonave fushore dhe atyre malore," _rruga e partise_, xvi, no. 8, august 1969, 1-20. "the state of wall posters in albania," _radio free europe: research departments_, april 13, 1967. stickney, edith pierpont. _southern albania or northern epirus in european international affairs, 1912-1923._ stanford: stanford university press, 1926. swire, joseph. albania: _the rise of a kingdom._ london: williams and norgate, 1929. _twenty years of socialism in albania._ tirana: naim frasheri state publishing house, 1964. united nations educational, scientific and cultural organization. _world communications._ new york: 1964. u.s. congress. 83d, 2d session. house of representatives. _communist takeover and occupation of albania._ (special report no. 13.) washington: gpo, 1954. u.s. department of commerce. office of technical services. joint publications research service (washington). the following publications are jprs translations from foreign sources: "the class struggle--the dividing line between marxism and revisionism," by bujar hoxha, in _zeri i popullit_ (voice of the people), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 45,815, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological and military affairs_, no. 9, 1968.) "the elimination of backward customs requires continued and persistent work," by kol tollumi, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 45,815, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological and military affairs_, no. 9, 1968.) "let us strengthen the movement of the working class for the overall development of the villages," by sotir kamberi, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 45,815, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological and military affairs_, no. 9, 1968.) "the problems raised by comrade enver in his speech 'the rights and freedoms of women must be fully understood and protected by all' and what should be done to solve them," by piro kondi, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1970. (jprs: 50,462, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological and military affairs_, no. 214, 1970.) "remnants of patriarchalism in the family and society: a serious hindrance to the complete triumph of the socialist way of life," by kol gjoka and lluke pashko, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1968. (jprs: 46,588, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological and military affairs_, no. 32, 1968.) "social and family relations: a broad field for the class struggle," by hysni kapo, in _rruga e partise_ (party path), tirana, 1970. (jprs: 50,200, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological and military affairs_, no. 198, 1970.) "some problems of the academic, cultural, and aesthetic education of youth," by ismail hoxha, in _nendori_ (november), tirana, 1967. (jprs: 43,672, _translations on eastern europe, political, sociological, and military affairs_, 1967.) (the periodical, _ekonomia popullore_ [tirana], november to december 1965, was used in the preparation of this book.) glossary albanian workers' party--the communist party of albania. this name adopted by the first party congress in 1948. basic party organization--the albanian workers' party unit established in state enterprises and institutions, on collective or cooperative farms, and in military organizations. in some communist states--for example, the soviet union--the equivalent is a primary party organization. bektashi--a dervish order, offshoot of the shia branch of islam, emphasizing abstinence from violence and charity to all people. _besa_--a pledge to faithfully fulfill an obligation or promise. formerly used to effect a truce during hostilities involving clans or conflicts between individuals. _bey_--the head of a feudal estate or an administrative official under the turks. became the dominant class after albanian independence in 1912. also formerly used as a title of respect. cema--council for economic mutual assistance; members: bulgaria, czechoslovakia, east germany, hungary, mongolia, poland, and the soviet union. civil war--the hostilities from september 1943 to november 1944 in which partisans of the communist-led national liberation front fought the two principal anti-communist organizations, balli kombetar (national front) and levizja e legalitetit (legality movement). clan--an organization that included several families and provided controls as stipulated by unwritten codes. in 1945 the clans were broken up by the communist regime. collective or cooperative--an organization in which members retain only their personal effects; all other belongings become community property. production from group efforts goes into a common fund. members are paid on the basis of their contribution of work units. cominform--communist information bureau. international organization of communist parties, established in 1947 and dissolved in 1956. democratic front--the largest and most important social organization utilized by the albanian workers' party to gain the support of the masses for their objectives. its work includes political, economic, social, and cultural tasks. it succeeded the national liberation front in 1945. district--the major subdivisions of the country. there were twenty-six in 1970. gegs--the larger of the two subgroups of albanians. they inhabit the area north of the shkumbin river. differentiated until world war ii by their tribal organization and primitive life style; also have distinctive physical features. kosovo--an autonomous region within the serbian republic of yugoslavia. this area previously called kosovo-metohija and frequently referred to as kosmet. lek--the standard monetary unit. does not have an international official exchange rate. nominally valued in tirana at 5 leks to 1 united states dollar; the tourist rate in early 1970 was 12.5 leks to us$1. devalued in august 1965 by exchanging 1 new lek for 10 old leks. marxism-leninism--from the albanian communist viewpoint, the ideology of karl marx and vladimir lenin as reflected in the experience of the soviet union until the death of joseph stalin. mass organization--generally of a social or professional nature with broad membership designed to link the party with the masses and to gain support for party objectives. national liberation front--created in 1942; communist-led; fought italian and german occupying forces and immobilized other albanian factions to seize power in 1944. ottoman--relating to the turks or to turkey. derived from name of fourteenth-century founder of the ottoman empire. party cadre--a thoroughly indoctrinated and reliable party group. utilized wherever deemed necessary to maintain efficiency and performance. frequently specially trained in management. _pasha_--a person of high rank; formerly used as a title of respect; title given to appointed provincial heads during the ottoman period. people's army--the armed forces of albania. composed of ground, air, and navy elements. people's council--the highest government organ at district and lower echelons. members are elected for three-year terms. politburo--the highest and most powerful executive body of the albanian workers' party. in early 1970 it consisted of eleven full members and five candidate members. presidium of the people's assembly--administers and conducts governmental functions between assembly meetings. issues decrees and judges constitutionality of laws. in early 1970, composed of a president, two vice presidents, and ten members. revisionism--as interpreted by albanian communists, the actions and ideologies of communist states that are inconsistent with albanian interpretations of marxism-leninism. sigurimi--name applied to state security police under the communist regime; derived from the directorate of state security (drejtorija e sigurimit te shtetit). sunni--one of the two major branches of islam. tosks--the smaller of the two subgroups of albanians. they live south of the shkumbin river. differences in social organization between the two groups lessened under communist rule. they abandoned their tribal pattern of life earlier and were more influenced by foreign cultures before 1945 than were the gegs. zogu, ahmet--served as prime minister and president during the early 1920s; then ruled as king zog from 1928 until 1939. was leader of conservative forces composed of landowners, former ottoman bureaucrats, and tribal chiefs. index abazi, dede (religious leader): 98 administrative divisions: vii, 33, 34 (fig. 3), 35 adult education: 87, 88, 90-91 agas: 95 agrarian reform: 15, 16, 75; law, 21, 96 agreements. _see_ treaties and agreements agriculture (_see also_ collective farms, crops, state farms): deterrents to goal attainment, 145; exports, 151, 174; five-year plans, 145, 152, 155-59 _passim_; imports, 173; investment, 167; land use, acreage, 152; mechanization, 146, 152; new methods, 145, 152; pattern of organization, 146, 151, 153; production, 145, 151-52, 155-56 (tables 10, 11), 157-59; productivity, 149; share of labor force, 147; summary, viii aid, foreign (_see also under specific country and under_ communist countries): 3, 4; economic, 146, 169-71; military, 175-79 _passim_, 190; summary, ix air force: 180, 184-85; chief, 184 air transport: ix, 46-47 airbases: 184-85 albanian (language): 55-56, 137 albanian party political bureau. _see_ politburo albanian telegraphic agency (news agency): 131-32 albanian workers' party (_see also_ central committee, central commission on education, directorate of, politburo, secretariat): v, 1; activists and agitators, 107, 125, 128, 129; book publishing, 134; communication channels, 125; conference, 114; congress, 113; control over people and institutions, 2, 93-94, 111, 135, 137, 140, 142, 146, 147, 176, 185-86, 192-93, 194; and the courts, 107; discipline, 114; economic goal, 145; founded, 17; institutes, 117; mass organizations as levers of, 117-18; members in security forces, 193; membership, 115; national and regional organization, 111-15; operations, 115-16; organization within armed forces, 175; political power, 103-04, 106; religious policy, 100; schools, 116-17; slogan, 181; stalinist methods, 121; statutes, 113-14, 115, 116, 118, 128 albanian writers' union: 56 ali, hafez musa haxhi (religious leader): 98 alia, ramiz (politburo secretary): 111, 112 alphabet, albanian: 49, 56, 83 american agricultural school (kavaje): 84 american junior red cross: 84 american technical school (tirana): 84 anti-communists: organizations, 18; records on, 195 antoniu, kristaq (singer): 142 apponyi, geraldine (wife of zog i): 16 area: vii, 1, 25 armed forces (_see also_ people's army): chief of staff, 180; civilian activities, 152, 181; decorations, 187-88; defense budget, 191; equipment, 175, 179, 181-82, 183, 184; foreign aid, 175-79 _passim_, 190; historical background, 177-79; medical services, 187; military courts, 108; military schools, 186-87; mission, 181; mobilization potential, 185; party control of, 111, 185-86; party organization within, 115, 175; political indoctrination of, 185-86, 190; rank designations, 175, 180; resistance to italian occupation, 178-79; strength, 175, 181, 183, 184; summary, ix army of national liberation: 18, 64, 111 arts, fine: 142-43 asdreni, ---(poet): 139 austria-hungary: 14 authority: under communism, 68; traditional attitude toward, 67, 71 automobiles: 65 bajraktari, muharem (chieftain): 72 _bajraktars_ (tribal chieftains): 67, 71, 74 balance of trade, 171 balli kombetar (national front): 18, 74, 139; supporters, 72 balluku, beqir (min. of defense): 111, 180 banking: 168-69 _bashkimi_ (newspaper): 129, 130 (table 7) bektashi (religious group): 97, 98 belishova, liri (former politburo member): 23 _besa_ (pledge): 53 _beys_: 2, 5, 10, 13, 17, 72, 73, 74; creation of the class, 95; during civil war, 74; seizure of their land, 21; social position, 67, 70, 73 bibliography: 197-207 bicycles: 65 birth rate: 51 books: publishing and distribution, 133-34 boundaries: 25, 26, 31-33; border security (_see_ frontier guards); potential for dispute, 4, 9, 31; settlement (1913), 14, 25 broz, josip (tito): 19, 21, 22, 122 budget (_see also_ expenditures, revenue, taxes): 164-67; defense, 191; responsibility for preparing, 106; social and cultural sectors, 58 buene river: 39, 47, 183 bulgaria: aid and trade, 170, 172 byron, lord: 96 cako, hito (chief, army political directorate): 186 capital goods: output, 160-61 carcani, adil (politburo member): 112, 120 central commission on education: 92, 94, 112 central committee: 92, 94, 105, 113, 116, 117, 127; composition, 77, 112; functions, 114; and labor situation, 147, 148, 149; members in council of ministers, 106; publications, 129, 131 charles i of anjou: 11 children: welfare provisions, 64 china, communist: aid, economic, 122-23, 160, 170, 171, 172; aid, military, 175, 176-77, 179, 184, 190; debt to, 171; economic effect of alignment with, 146; education and training in, 92; influence, 23; jointly owned shipping line, 47; relations with, v, 3, 104, 121-23; trade, 172, 174 christianity: introduction, 11, 95 chrome: 44 churchill, winston: 19 ciano, count (italian foreign min.): 16 cikuli, ziza (poet): 140 cities: growth, 75; population, 49, 50, 51, 56 civil war (1943-44): 18-19; fate of anti-communists, 74 clans. _see_ tribes and clans clergymen: 73; communist actions against, 96, 97-98, 99-101 climate: vii, 4, 26, 35, 36 (table 1), 37 collective farms: 145, 146, 151; basic features, 153-54; labor force, size, 147, 148; number and size, 154-55; patriarchalism, 80; personal income, 153-54; private plots, 154, 157, 159, 166; work performance, 151-52 cominform. _see_ communist information bureau communications (_see also_ press, radio, television): 125-35; ownership, 110; summary, ix communist information bureau (cominform): 21, 179 communist countries: aid, 21, 169, 170; education and training in, 91; trade, 172 communist party. _see_ albanian workers' party communist regime: attitudes toward population growth, ethnic differences, and blood feuds, 51, 53; consolidation of power, 20-23; efforts to alter social structure, 67-69, 73-83; gains claimed, 6, 45, 50, 53, 58, 59, 75, 91, 94, 145, 149, 151, 155, 159, 165-66; goals, 2; installation date, 9; policy toward religious groups, 96, 97, 100 communists: seizure of power, 17-20 concentration camps. _see_ labor camps cooperatives: agricultural, 136 copper ore: export, 44 conference of peze (1942): 17 constituent assembly: people's republic proclaimed by, 20 constitution: first communist, 20, 74, 86, 96, 113; independence, 14; provisions, 101, 104-08 _passim_ consumer goods: output, 161 cotton: 151, 155, 156 (table 10) council for economic mutual assistance (cema): 21; member, 121 council of ministers: 132, 134, 150, 164, 179; description, 106; and religious control, 97 courts: 107-08; military, 108, 190; summary, viii crime: 79, 128, 176; military, 190 crops (_see also specific crop_): industrial, 151; production, 155, 156 (table 10); yields, 41 culture: achievements, 137-38; development, 135-43; dominant themes under communism, 136; indoctrination through institutions, 135; party control of activities, 135, 137, 140, 142 currency: viii, 167-68 czechoslovakia: 123; aid, 170; trade, 172 dako, kristo (school founder): 84 death rate: 51 defense: budgetary expenditures, 166 deljana, thoma (min., education and culture): 88 democratic front: 1, 103, 109, 117; described, 118-19; newspaper, 129; nlf renamed, 19 dhrami, m. (artist): 143 diet: 62 directorate of: agitation and propaganda (agitprop), 112, 127; cadres and organizations, 112; education and culture, 92, 94, 112; mass organizations, 112; radiobroadcasting, 132; state administrative organs, 112; state security, 111, 176, 193-94 disease: 59-60 divorce: 79-80 doctors: 61 drainage. _see_ lakes, rivers drin river: 37, 39, 47, 160, 164 dume, gen. petrit (army chief of staff): 180, 192 durres (port): 11, 183; facilities, 47; population, 51, 57; transportation, 46 east-west conflict: position in, 2, 121 economic planning: communists view of, 110 economic plans (_see also_ five-year plans): responsibility for preparation, 106 economy: major objective, 7; status of, 146; summary, viii education (_see also_ schools): 83-94; discrimination, 77; eight-year, obligatory, 88-89; first objective, 69; function of information media, 126-27; indoctrination of youth, 69; medical training, 61; military, 88, 90; party control, 93-94; pre-communist period, 83-85; reform, 88; and social mobility, 69; status of, 6; summary, viii; system, 87-89 (fig. 5), 90-94; technical, 86-87 educational reform law (1946): 86 elbasan (city): 46, 49, 57 elections: 1, 19, 20; assembly representatives, 105; candidate selection, 103, 104, 107, 109, 116-17; character and procedure, 108-09; mobilization of voters, 128 electricity. _see_ power, electric elite: party, 64, 69, 77, 78, 106; ruling, 2, 10, 68, 73, 96, 121 employment: 147 ethnic groups: 5, 6, 9, 49, 52-55; minor, 54-55 european nations: relations with, 123; trade, 174 expenditures: 165, 166-67; defense, 191 exports: 172, 173-74; agricultural, 151, 174; industrial, 161, 162, 174; principal, 44; summary, viii faja, baba. _see_ martaneshi, baba mustafa faja family: under communism, 74; efforts to revolutionize, 68, 81-83; rate of increase in number of, 75; role in politics, 77; as social force, 6; traditional organization, 67, 70-71 farm credits: 169 farms. _see_ collective farms, state farms fejzo, baba (clergyman): 98 fertilizer: 160 feuds, blood: 6, 53-54, 71 fier (city): oil refinery and power plant, 160; population, 49, 57 filce, gjorgjija (singer): 142 films: 141 finance (_see also_ currency, banking, budget): 164-69; summary, viii five-year plans: first (1951-55) and second (1956-60), 159; third (1961-65), 145, 149, 165, 170; fourth (1966-70), 145, 152, 155-59 _passim_, 165, 171, 172; fifth (1971-75), 164, 171 floqi, kristo (playwright): 140 food: prices, 64; processing, 162 foreign aid. _see_ aid, foreign foreign relations: 121-23 forests: 26, 41-42 france: relations with, 23; trade, 173 franciscans: 97, 100, 139 frasheri, midhat (political leader): 18, 139 frasheri, naim (writer): 139 frasheri, sami (playwright): 140 frontier guards: 111, 176, 194 fruit: citrus, 30; exports, 174; production, 151, 155, 156 (table 10) fuga, myqerem (institute head): 117 gas: reserves, 44 geg (language): 56, 137 gega, lira (former politburo member): 22 gegs (ethnic group): 6; ethnic characteristics, 53; population, 52; social structure, 70-72 germany: resistance to occupation by, 179 germany, east: aid and trade, 170, 172 gjata, fatmir (writer): 140 glossary: 209 government: appointment of officials, 116; character of, 1, 103, 104, 108; local, 106-07; party control of, 103, 104, 106; structure, 104-07; summary, vii grain: bread grain production, 151, 155, 156 (table 10) great britain: 178 greece: albanians living in, 55; boundary claim, 14, 26; relations with, 9, 123; shared border, 25, 31, 32; trade, 173 greeks (ethnic group): 54 gross industrial product (gip): minerals share, 44 gross national product (gnp): per capita, 50 gypsies: 54, 55 harbors: 183 hasbiu, gen. kadri: 77, 111, 193 hasko, arif (air force chief): 184 health and medicine: facilities, 61; military medicine, 187; mobile medical teams and equipment, 61; personnel and training, 61; services, 58; status of, 6, 50, 59-62; summary, viii history: 9-23 hitler, adolf: 17 holidays: 10, 78 hospitals: 61 houses: description, 63 housing: investment, 167; loans, 169; status, 51, 62-63 hoxha, enver (party first secretary): 1, 3, 11, 17-23 _passim_, 53, 62, 77, 80, 84, 88, 100-05 _passim_, 111, 115-27 _passim_, 136, 142; relation to defense establishment, 180; relation to security police, 193; rise to leadership, 179 hoxha (enver) united army officers school: 186 hoxha, nexhmije (party official): 77, 93, 112, 117 hoxha-shehu duumvirate: overthrow attempt, 22 hungary: 172 hunyadi (hungarian king): 12 hydroelectric power: potential, 40, 162, 163; station, 159, 160, 164 identification cards: 195 illiteracy: 7, 86, 94, 126 imports: viii, 172, 173 income: collective farm workers, 153-54; national, major source, 7; taxes, 165 independence: 2, 3, 9, 10, 13-16, 139, 176, 177; proclaimed, 14 indoctrination: political and social, 69, 126, 135, 140, 147, 185-86, 190 industry: 146, 159-64; budgetary expenditures, 166, 167; construction projects, 159, 160; deterrents to development, 161; exports, 161, 162, 174; five-year plans, 159, 164,170; imports, 173; nationalization, 21, 110; production, 160-63 (table 12); productivity, 149-50, 161; progress toward goal, 145; structure, 160; summary, viii infant mortality: 50, 60 information media (_see also_ press, radio, television): functions, ownership, and control, 2, 125-29 institute for economic studies: 117 institute of marxist-leninist studies: 117 institute of party history: 117 intellectuals: 73, 76-77 interest rate: 169 investment: budgetary expenditures, 167 iron: 44 irrigation: 40, 152, 153 islam. see muslim religion italy: aid, military, 178, 192; and albanian independence, 13-14; invasion and annexation by, 3, 9, 16-17; relations with, 9, 16, 23, 121; resistance to occupation by, 178-79; trade, 173 jakova, tonin (trade union officer): 120 jakova, tuk (former politburo member): 100 jesuits: 83, 97 judges: election of, 108 justice (_see also_ courts): summary, viii kapo, hysni (party official): 77, 82, 112, 117, 118 kapo, vito (women's organization head): 77, 119 kastrioti, gjergj. _see_ skanderbeg kastrioti, john of kruje (tribal chieftain): 12 kellezi, abdyl (chmn., people's assembly): 105 khrushchev, nikita: 22, 23, 122 kisi, archbishop kristofor: 98 koliqi, ernest (playwright): 140 kominino, gjergi (poet): 140 kono, kristro (composer): 142 korce (city): 51, 57 kosmet: disposition of, 18 kosovo area (yugoslavia): 31, 33 kryeziu, gani bey (chieftain): 73 kupi, abas (founder, political organization): 18 labor (_see also_ labor force): summary, vii; voluntary, 150-51, 162 labor brigades (youth): 118 labor camps: 20, 74, 77, 98, 193, 194 labor code: 110 labor force: adequacy, 146-47; attitude toward employment, 148; attitude toward industrial modernization, 161; education and indoctrination, 147, 161-62; effect of socialization of the land, 151; labor norms, 150; nonagricultural workers, 73; party control over, 146, 147; productivity and discipline, 147-50 _passim_, 161; size and distribution, 147-48; working conditions, 78 lakes: 31, 32, 38 (fig. 4), 39, 47 land: in agricultural use, 152; arable, 26, 41; private plots, 154, 157, 159, 166; reclamation and melioration, 152; seizure and redistribution, 21; socialization, 151 language: 49, 55-56; foreign broadcasts, 132-33; official, 56; summary, viii league for defense of rights of the albanian nation: 13 legality movement: 18, 74; supporters, 72 lek (currency): exchange rates, 167 lenin (v. i.) institute: 117 leshi, haxhi (head of state): 72, 105 libraries: 134-35 life expectancy: 51 limestone: 30, 31, 44 literature: 138-40 livestock and livestock products: 154; production, 152, 155, 156 (table 11), 157-58 living conditions: 49-50, 58-65 loans and credits: 169, 170-71 machine tractor stations: 146, 153, 165 machinery: 161 malaria: 59 malnutrition: 60 mana, a. (sculptor): 143 management: attitude toward industrial modernization, 161; and productivity lag, 149-50 marriage: under communism, 74; customs, 68, 71; laws and rate, 79 martaneshi, baba mustafa faja (clergyman): 98 marxism-leninism: 67, 68, 104, 121, 122; teaching of, 86, 87, 88, 94, 117, 119, 126, 128-29, 135 medical services. _see_ health and medicine midwives: 61 migration: 51, 75, 148 mijo, sokrat (theater entrepreneur): 140 mijo, vangjush (artist): 142 military training (_see also_ schools, military): in school system, 88, 90 minerals: 30, 31, 44, 160, 173 ministry of: education and culture, 87, 93, 134, 137, 141, 142; foreign affairs, 134; health, 59, 60, 61; interior, 115, 176, 190, 193, 194; national defense, 134; people's defense, 115, 175, 176, 179, 186 mjeda, dom ndre (poet): 139 mugosha, dusan (party founder): 17 mukaj agreement (political parties): 18 museums: 135 music: 141-42 muslim religion: 7; conversion to under ottomans, 12, 67, 94-95; number of members, 95 mussolini, benito: 16 name of country: vii, 11 national liberation front: 1, 175; seizure of government, 19 national liberation movement: 103, 139, 179; created, 17; supporters, 72, 73 nationalism: 5, 9, 126, 136, 139, 175, 177 nationalization: effect on social structure, 75; of industry, 21, 141; information media, 126; of schools, 84 naval forces: 180, 182-84; commander, 182 ndoja, mark (poet): 140 ndreu, dalli (former gen.): 22 near east foundation: 84 _nendori_ (literary monthly): 100, 101 news agency: 131-32 newspapers: 129, 130 (table 7) nigris, monsignor (apostolic nuncio): 99 nikon, bishop: 99 noli, bishop fan s.: 15, 16, 73, 139 north atlantic treaty organization (nato): 176 nurseries (day care): 68, 148 nurses: 61 nushi, gogo (president, trade unions): 120 nutrition: 62 oil: production, 163 (table 12); refinery, 160; reserves, 44 organizations: anti-communist, 18; mass, 117-21 orthodox church of albania: 7, 67, 98; members, 95 ottoman rule: 3, 12-13 paco, j. (sculptor): 143 paisi, archbishop: 99 paluca, maria (singer): 142 paramilitary training: 188-90 pasha, mehmet ali (governor of egypt): 12 pasha, pasko vasa (playwright): 140 _pashas_: 2, 5, 13; creation of the class, 95; social leadership, 70 paskal, odhise (sculptor): 142 pastures: 41, 152 patriarchalism: 67; efforts to eradicate, 68, 80-83 peasants: attitude toward collectivism and modern methods, 145, 151, 157, 158, 159; conditions under communism, 78-79; religion, 95 people's army (_see also_ air force, naval forces): ground forces, 181-82; organizational patterns, 180; position in government, 179-80; rank designations, 180-81; strength, ix, 181, 183, 184; training and paramilitary training, 182-90 _passim_ people's assembly: 106, 108, 116, 164, 179-80, 190; aim and sphere of action, 109; description, 104-05; power and influence, 110 people's councils: description, 106-07; as party levers, 117-18 people's police: 111, 176, 195 periodicals: 130, 131 (table 8) pioneer organizations: 118 pipeline: xiv (fig. 1), 44, 46 plasari, ndreci (institute head): 117 poetry: 139 poland: 172 police. _see_ directorate of state security, frontier guards, people's police politburo: 21, 105, 112, 113; communication media policy, 127; composition, 77; and the educational system, 92; and the labor situation, 148, 150; members in council of ministers, 106; secretariat, 111; top executive branches, 111 politics: and creation of the modern state, 15-17; historical background, 5-6; locus of power, 2, 103, 108-11 _passim_; role of family connections, 77; the system, 108-21 popovic, miladin (party founder): 17 population: control by party and police, 2, 93-94, 137, 146, 176, 192-93, 194; ethnic composition, 1, 5, 6, 9, 49, 52-55; growth rate, 49, 51; rural character, 50, 56; social composition, 76 (table 4); statistics, 1, 49, 50-52 (table 3); summary, vii; working age, 147 poradeci, lasgush (poet): 139 ports: ix; facilities, 47 potatoes: 155, 156 (table 10) power, electric (_see also_ hydroelectric power): extent of use, 50, 58, 162, 163 (table 12); insufficiency, 44; production, 163 (table 12), 164; thermal plant, 160, 162 prennushi, p. vincenc (poet): 139 presidium: 108; description, 105-06, 111; president, 72, 105 press: 125-28 _passim_, 129-32; use for party purposes, 126-27 prices: consumer commodities, 64-65 proletariat: dictatorship of, 108-11 _puna_ (newspaper): 129, 130 (table 7) radio: foreign broadcasting, 132-33; receivers and stations, 132, 133 (table 9); use for party purposes, 126-27 radio tirana: v, 132 railroads: ix, xiv (fig. 1), 45-46 rainfall: 4, 26, 27, 29, 35, 36 (table 1), 37 rama, k. (artist): 143 red cross: 61 regions, natural: 26-31 religion (_see also_ clergymen, orthodox church, muslim religion, roman catholic church): 5; under communists, 96-102; eradication efforts, 7, 69, 96-102; law to control, 96-97; summary, viii; traditional attitudes toward differences, 67, 96; wealth confiscation, of religious bodies, 96 resources, natural: 41-44; ownership, 110 revenue: 164, 165-66 rice: 155, 156 (table 10) rivers: 37, 38 (fig. 4), 39-40 (table 2) roads: ix, xiv, (fig. 1), 25, 27, 45 rockefeller foundation: 59 roman catholic church: 7, 67; actions against, 99-100; membership, 95 romania: aid and trade, 170, 172 _rruga e partise_ (party monthly): 117, 127, 131 russia: 13, 14 sako, zihni (writer): 140 salt: 44 sanitation: 58, 62 sazan island: air base, 185; sea defense brigade, 183 schools: catholic, 99; enrollment, 91, 92 (table 5), 93 (table 6); higher institutes, 86, 90, 93 (table 6); military, 186-87; nationalization, 84; number of, 92 (table 5); paramilitary training, 188-90; party, 116-17; pre-communist period, 83-85; secondary, 90 security forces (_see also_ directorate of state security, frontier guards, people's army, people's police): 175-95; control of population by, 176, 192-93; party control of, 111; summary, ix sejko, teme (former naval commander): 22, 190 semen river: 39 settlement: patterns, 4, 49, 56-58 shehu, fiqrete (party school head): 77, 117 shehu, mehmet (prime minister): 1, 22, 77, 84, 88, 90, 92, 103, 104, 105, 111, 116, 122 shehu (mehmet) military academy: 187 shijak: airbase, 184 shijaku, s. (artist): 143 shipping: 47 shkoder (city): population, 51, 57; theater, 140 siliqi, llazar (poet): 140 skanderbeg (national hero): 5, 10, 12, 138, 175, 177 skanderbeg military school: 186 skenderi, vehbi (poet): 140 social insurance, 63-64 society (_see also_ authority, divorce, elite, family, marriage, peasants, tribes and clans, women, youth): character of, 1-7; under communism, 68, 73-83; structure, 67-102; traditional patterns and values, 67, 69-73; by type of employment, 76 (table 4) soils: 26, 41 soviet union: aid, economic, 7, 122, 141, 154, 169, 170; aid, military, 175, 176, 179, 183, 184, 192; break with, 122; debt to, 170; de-stalinization campaign repercussions, 21; education and training in, 61, 87, 91; farm model, 153; relations with, v, 2, 3, 21, 23, 104, 112, 121, 122, 123; trade, 172 spahiu, xhafer (politburo secretary): 111 stalin, joseph v.: 19, 22, 121, 122, 140, 142, 192, 193 stalin (formerly kucove): pipeline from, 44, 46 stalin-tito rupture: 21 standard of living: 7, 49-50, 58 state farms: 146, 151, 153; labor force size, 147; number and size, 154; private plots, 154, 157, 159, 166 state planning commission: 58, 146, 150 state university of tirana: enrollment, 91; established, 137-38; faculty of jurisprudence, 74; faculty of medicine, 61; library, 135; linguistics and history institute, 56; paramilitary training, 188 status: social mobility, 69 steel-rolling mill: 160 stratoberdha, llazi (directorate head): 112 sugar beets: 151, 155, 156 (table 10) sugar mill: 159 summary: vii-ix sunni (religious group): 97, 98 tashko, koco (former party leader): 23 tashko, tefta (singer): 142 taxes: 164, 165-66; and property confiscation, 20; turnover tax, 165, 166 teachers: number of, 91, 92 (table 5); party membership, 94; training, 83, 87 television: 125, 133 temperature: 36 (table 1) tepelena, ali pasha (lion of yannina): 13 textbooks: 86, 87 textiles: mills, 159, 160; production, 163, (table 12) theater: 140-41 tirana (capital city): airbase, xiv (fig. 1), 184; description, 57; population, 51, 56, 57; transportation, 46 tito. _see_ broz, josip tittoni-venizelos agreement: 15 tobacco: 151, 155, 156 (table 10) topography: vii, 4, 26-27, 28 (fig. 2), 29 tosk: official language, 49, 56, 137 tosks (ethnic group): 6, 52; characteristics, 53, 54; social structure, 70-72 tractors (_see also_ machine tractor stations): spare parts, 160 trade, foreign: 146, 171-74; agreements, 173 trade union workers: agriculture and procurements, 120; education and trade, 120; industry and construction, 120 trade unions (_see also_ united trade unions): 120; administration of social insurance activities, 63; and control of labor, 147 trako, konstantine (composer): 142 transportation: problems, 4-5; status, 44-47; systems, xiv (fig. 1) treaties and agreements, international: boundary, 14, 15, 32; defense, 16; summary, ix; trade, 173 treaty of san stefano: 13 trials: accessibility, 107 tribes and clans: description, 70; social patterns and values, 69-73 tuberculosis: 60 turkey: ottoman rule period, 12-13 union of albanian women: 117, 119 union of albanian working youth: 1, 93, 115, 117, 175; described, 118; newspaper, 129; paramilitary training, 190 union of artists and writers: 137, 142 unions. _see_ trade unions, united trade unions united nations: communist china mouthpiece in, v; relief and rehabilitation administration (unrra): 59 united states: albanians living in, 55; relations with, 23, 122 united trade unions: 1, 117, 129; description, 120 university. _see_ state university of tirana urbanization: 56, 75; government policy, 50-51, 147-48 values: traditional, 69-73 _passim_ vegetables: exports, 174; production, 151, 156 (table 10) vegetation: 26, 41 vijose river: 37, 39 villages: description, 57-58; electric power, 58; health services, 61-62; population, 49, 56 vlachs (ethnic group): 54-55 vlora, ismail qemal bey (independence leader): 3, 14 vlore (port): airbase, 185; facilities, 47; pipeline to, 44, 46; population, 51, 57; sea defense brigade, 183; transportation, 46 vocational and technical training: 86-87 vodica, pashko (clergyman): 98 voting: constitutional provision, 108 wages: 64 warsaw pact: 121, 123, 176, 192 west, the: east-west conflict, position, 2, 121; relations with, 23; trade, 172, 173 wied, prince wilhelm zu: 15 wildlife: 43 wilson, woodrow: 15 women and girls: attitudes toward, 81, 82, 148; and blood feuds, 6, 71; mobilization potential, 185; paramilitary training, 189; part in production and government, 119; position in society, 54, 119; rights, 119-20; social changes under communism, 68; union of women, 117, 119; welfare benefits, 64 workers' compensation: 64 world war i: 3, 15, 32, 121, 177 world war ii: 45, 50, 62-63, 175, 178-79 xoxe, jakov (writer): 140 xoxe, koci (government official): 21, 22, 193 _ylli_ (periodical): 131 youth (_see also_ pioneer organizations, union of albanian working youth): antireligious mission, 100, 118; attitudes toward, 82; organizations, 118; paramilitary training, 188-90 yugoslav communist party: 17, 18, 19 yugoslavia: aid, economic, 169; aid, military, 176, 179, 192; albanians living in, 55; influence, 21; relations with, v, 2, 3, 9, 22, 23, 104, 121, 122, 123; shared border, 25, 32; trade, 173 zengo, androniqi (artist): 142 zeqir, ymer (commander, naval forces): 182 _zeri i popullit_ (party's official daily): 80, 81, 91, 121, 129 _zeri i rinise_ (newspaper): 129, 130 (table 7) zicishti, mihalaq (chief, state security): 193 zogu, ahmet (king zog i): 15, 16, 70, 72, 73, 178 published area handbooks 550-65 afghanistan 550-44 algeria 550-59 angola 550-73 argentina 550-20 brazil 550-61 burma 550-83 burundi 550-50 cambodia 550-96 ceylon 550-26 colombia 550-60 communist china 550-91 congo (brazzaville) 550-67 congo (kinshasa) 550-90 costa rica 550-22 cyprus 550-54 dominican republic 550-52 ecuador 550-28 ethiopia 550-29 germany 550-78 guatemala 550-82 guyana 550-21 india 550-39 indonesia 550-68 iran 550-31 iraq 550-25 israel 550-30 japan 550-34 jordan 550-56 kenya 550-41 republic of korea 550-58 laos 550-24 lebanon 550-38 liberia 550-85 libya 550-45 malaysia and singapore 550-76 mongolia 550-49 morocco 550-64 mozambique 550-88 nicaragua 550-81 north korea 550-57 north vietnam 550-94 oceania 550-48 pakistan 550-92 peripheral states of the arabian peninsula 550-72 philippines 550-84 rwanda 550-51 saudi arabia 550-70 senegal 550-86 somalia 550-93 republic of south africa 550-55 south vietnam 550-95 soviet union 550-27 sudan 550-47 syria 550-62 tanzania 550-53 thailand 550-89 tunisia 550-80 turkey 550-74 uganda 550-43 united arab republic 550-97 uruguay 550-71 venezuela 550-75 zambia +-----------------------------------------------------+ | transcriber's note: | | | | inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the | | original document have been preserved. | | | | page 109 in the paragraph starting "all meetings | | for the selection of candidates" the second | | line from the end is a misprint. no correction | | is available. | | | | typographical errors corrected in the text: | | | | page 4 county changed to country | | page 11 thorfare changed to thoroughfare | | page 12 christiandom changed to christendom | | page 14 adriatric changed to adriatic | | page 29 stablized changed to stabilized | | page 39 semen changed to seman | | page 46 skhoder changed to shkoder | | page 55 be changed to by | | page 70 ancester changed to ancestor | | page 84 scare changed to scarce | | page 96 at changed to as | | page 102 plenun changed to plenum | | page 134 shtypshkonjave changed to shtypshkronjave | | page 162 hydrolectric changed to hydroelectric | | page 178 ahmed changed to ahmet | | page 184 betweeen changed to betweeen | | page 186 dicipline changed to discipline | | page 197 drejte changed to drejta | | page 198 rezhep changed to rexhep | | page 199 metejshme changed to metejshem | | page 201 furthur changed to further | | page 202 bardhosi changed to bardhoshi | | page 202 pjetar changed to pjeter | | page 214 bektash changed to bektashi | +-----------------------------------------------------+ through the lands of the serb by mary e. durham london edward arnold 1904 dedicated to my mother [illustration: montenegrin women, cetinje.] contents part i montenegro and the way there i. cattaro--njegushi--cetinje ii. podgoritza and rijeka iii. ostrog iv. nikshitje and dukle v. our lady among the rocks vi. antivari vii. of the north albanian viii. skodra ix. skodra to dulcigno part ii of servia x. belgrade xi. smederevo--shabatz--valjevo--ub--obrenovatz xii. nish xiii. pirot xiv. east servia xv. the shumadia and south-west servia xvi. krushevatz part iii montenegro and old servia 1903 xvii. kolashin--andrijevitza--berani--pech xviii. to dechani and back to podgoritza list of illustrations montenegrin women, cetinje cemetery near cetinje baker's shop, rijeka--albanian and two montenegrins bullock cart, podgoritza upper monastery, ostrog ruins of antivari mountain albanians in market, podgoritza street in bazaar, skodra skodra mosque, skodra shop in bazaar, skodra montenegrin plough servian peasant travelling gipsies, rijeka, montenegro soldiers' monuments church, studenitza--west door. coronation church, kraljevo tsar lazar's castle church, krushevatz--side window of apse the patriarchia, ipek (pech) podgoritza map of the lands of the serb publisher's note in the spelling of proper names the system adopted in the _times atlas_ has been followed as nearly as possible. owing to the absence of miss durham in macedonia, the following pages have not had the advantage of her revision in going through the press. part i montenegro and the way there "what land is this?" "this is illyria, lady." _twelfth night._ through the lands of the serb chapter i cattaro--njegushi--cetinje i do not know where the east proper begins, nor does it greatly matter, but it is somewhere on the farther side of the adriatic, the island-studded coast which the venetians once held. at any rate, as soon as you leave trieste you touch the bubbling edge of the ever-simmering eastern question, and the unpopularity of the ruling german element is very obvious. "i--do--not--speak--german," said a young officer laboriously, "i am bocchese"; and as we approached the bocche he emphasised the fact that he was a slav returning to a slav land. party politics run high even on the steamboat. we awoke one morning to find the second-class saloon turned into a herzegovinian camp, piled with gay saddle-bags and rugs upon which squatted, cross-legged, a couple of families in full native costume, and the air was thick with the highly scented tobacco which the whole party smoked incessantly. the friendly steward, a dalmatian italian, whispered hastily, "this is a herzegovinian family, signorin'. do you like the herzegovinese?" rather taken aback, and not knowing what his politics were, i replied, stupidly enough, "i find their costume very interesting," this frivolous remark hurt the steward deeply. "signorin'," he said very gravely, "these are some of the bravest men in the world. each one of these that you see would fight till he died." then in a mysterious undertone, "they cannot live without freedom ... they are leaving their own land ... it has been taken, as you know, by the austrian.... they are going to montenegro, to a free country. they have taken with them all their possessions, and they go to find freedom." i looked at them with a curious sense of pity. though they knew it not, they were the survivors of an old, old world, the old world which still lingers in out-of-the-way corners, and it was from the twentieth century quite as much as from the teuton they were endeavouring to flee. all these parti-coloured saddle-bags and little bundles tied up in cotton handkerchiefs represented the worldly goods of three generations, who had left the land of their forebears and were upon a quest as mystical as any conceived by mediæval knight--they were seeking the shrine of liberty. "of old sat freedom on the heights"; let us hope they found her there! i never saw them again. on the other hand, in a boat with austrian sympathies, the tale is very different. "i am a viennese, fräulein. imagine what it is to me to have to travel in this dreary place! the people?--they are a rough, discontented set. very ignorant. very bad. no, i should not advise you to go to montenegro--a most mischievous race." "and what about bosnia and the herzegovina?" "oh, you will be quite safe there; _we_ govern that. they are a bad lot, though! but we don't stand any nonsense." thus either party seizes upon the stranger and tries to prevent his views being "prejudiced." he seldom has need to complain that he has heard one side only; but there is a catholic side, an orthodox side, a mohammedan side, there are german, slav, italian, turkish, and albanian sides; and when he has heard them all he feels far less capable of forming an opinion on the eastern question than he did before. dalmatia has its charms, but tourists swarm there, and the picturesque corners are being rapidly pulled down to provide suitable accommodation for them. let us pass on, then, nor pause till we have wound our way through that wonderful maze of fiords, the bocche, and landed on the quay at cattaro. cattaro is a tiny, greatly coveted, much-fought-for town. the natural port for montenegro but the property of austria, it swelters, breathless, on a strip of shore, with the waters in front of it, and the great wall of the black mountain rising sheer up behind. its "heart's in the highlands," but the enemy holds it as a garrison town; the austrian army pervades the neighbourhood, and a big fort, lurking opposite, commands the one road from mountain to coast. cattaro, after all, is only a half-way house to montenegro, and this is why austria lavishes so many troops upon it. behind the town starts the rough zigzag track, the celebrated "ladder of cattaro," which until 1879 was the only path into montenegro, and is the one the peasants still use. the making of the road was for a long while dreaded by the montenegrins, who argued that a road that will serve for a cart will also serve for artillery. a tangible, visible gun was their idea of the means by which changes are wrought; but the road that can let in artillery can let in something more subtle, irresistible, and change-working. the road was made, and there is now no barrier to prevent the twentieth century creeping up silently and sweeping over this old-world land almost before its force is recognised. whether the hardy mountain race which has successfully withstood the gory onslaught of the turk for five hundred years, will come out unscathed from a bloodless encounter with western so-called civilisation time alone can tell. the road from cattaro to cetinje has been so often written of that it is idle to describe it once again, nor can any words do it justice. after some three hours' climbing, we pass the last austrian black-and-yellow post, and the driver, if he be a son of the mountain, points to the ground and says, "crnagora!" (tsernagora). crnagora, gaunt, grey, drear, a chaos of limestone crags piled one on the other in inextricable confusion, the bare wind-swept bones of a dead world. the first view of the land comes as a shock. the horror of desolation, the endless series of bare mountain tops, the arid wilderness of bare rock majestic in its rugged loneliness, tell with one blow of the sufferings of centuries. the next instant fills one with respect and admiration for the people who have preferred liberty in this wilderness to slavery in fat lands. wherever possible, little patches of ground are cultivated, carefully banked up with stones to save the precious soil from being washed away, and up on the mountain sides scrubby oaks dwarfed and twisted by the wind find a foothold among the crags. most of the men carry revolvers, and the eye soon becomes so much accustomed to weapons that on a return to unarmed lands everyone appears, for a few days, to be rather undressed. the road winds, the red roofs of njegushi come in sight, and we make our first halt in a montenegrin town, and rest our weary horses. we enter the little inn, and our coachman claims his revolver, which is hanging with several others behind the bar, for none are allowed to enter austria; they are deposited in some house near the frontier and picked up on the way back. george stanisich, the big landlord, hurries up his womenkind to make ready a meal, looks after the drinks, and converses cheerfully on the topics of the day--preferably on the war, if there happens to be one. "junastvo" (that is, heroism--"deeds of derring-do") is a subject that occupies a large space in the montenegrin mind, and no wonder, and every man's ambition is to be considered a "dobar junak" (valiant warrior) and worthy of his forefathers. njegushi cannot fail to make a most vivid impression on the mind, for it is the entrance to a world that is new and strange. the little stone-paved room of the inn, hung with portraits of the prince and the tsar and tsaritsa of russia; the row of loaded revolvers in the bar; the blind minstrel who squats by the door and sings his long monotonous chant while he scrapes upon his one-stringed gusle; and the tall, dignified men in their picturesque garb, all belong to an unknown existence, and the world we have always known is left far below at the foot of the mountain. in njegushi one feels that one has come a long way from england. it is, in fact, easy to travel much farther without being so far off. yet the montenegrin love of liberty and fair play and the montenegrin sense of honour have made me feel more at home in this far corner of europe than in any other foreign land. njegushi is the prince's birthplace. his ancestors were some of a number of herzegovinians who, intolerant of the turk, emigrated in the fifteenth century. the village they left was called njegushi, and they gave the same name to their new home. in connection with this i give here a curious tale which i have met with more than once. i repeat it as told; my informants, servians, believed it firmly, but i can find no confirmation of it. when these herzegovinese migrated to montenegro, a large body of them went yet farther afield and settled in the mountains of abyssinia, among them a branch of the family of petrovich of njegushi, from which is directly descended menelik, who preserves the title of negus and is a distant cousin of prince nikola of montenegro, and to this large admixture of slav blood the abyssinians owe their fine stature and their high standard of civilisation, as compared with the neighbouring african tribes. the house of the prince stands on the left of the road as we leave the town. the road ascends once more; a steep pull up through a bleakness of grey crags; we reach the top of the pass (3350 feet), and turn a corner. "cetinje!" (tsetinye), says the driver briefly, and there, in the mountain-locked plain far below, lies the little red-roofed town, a village city, a kindergarten capital, one of the quaintest sights in europe, so tiny, so entirely wanting in the usual stock properties of a big town and yet so consciously a capital. two wide streets which run parallel and are joined by various cross streets make up the greater part of it, and it has some 3000 inhabitants. as we enter the town the first building of importance stands up on the left hand, brand-new, a white stone building with a black roof. to any other capital it would not be remarkable either for size or beauty; here it looms large and portentous. it is the biggest building in the town, and it is the palace of the austro-hungarian legation. not to be outdone, russia has just erected an equally magnificent building at the other end of the town, which now lies between representatives of the two rival powers. "which things are an allegory." twenty years ago cetinje was a collection of thatched hovels. to-day, modest as they are, the houses are all solidly built and roofed with tiles. few more than one storey high, many consisting only of a ground floor, all of them devoid of any attempt at architecture; not a moulding, a cornice, or a porch breaks the general baldness: they are more like a row of toy houses all out of the same box than anything else. the road is very wide, and very white; a row of little clipped trees border it on each side, so clipped that they afford at present about as much shade as telegraph posts, and they all appear to have come out of the same box too. it is all very clean, very neat; not a whiff offends the tenderest nostril, not a cabbage stalk lies in the gutter. it is not merely a toy, but a brand-new one that has not yet been played with. cetinje is poor, but dignified and self-respecting. a french or italian village of the same size clatters, shouts, and screams. cetinje is never in a hurry, and seldom excited. it contains few important buildings. the only ones of any historic interest are the monastery, the little tower on the hill above it where were formerly stuck the heads of slain turks, and the old palace called the biljardo from the fact that it contained montenegro's first billiard-table. it now affords quarters for various officials and the court of justice. there are no lawyers in montenegro, and this is said to simplify matters greatly. the prince is the final court of appeal, and reads and considers the petition of any of his subjects that are in difficulties. such faith have folk in his judgment that mohammedan subjects of the sultan have been known to tramp to crnagora in order to have a quarrel settled by the gospodar. that he possesses a keen insight into these semi-civilised people and a remarkable power of handling them is evident from the order that is maintained throughout his lands even among the large mohammedan albanian population, and it would undoubtedly have been much better for the balkan peoples had he had larger scope for his administrative powers. cetinje's other attractions are the park, the theatre, and the market, where the stranger will have plenty of opportunity of wrestling with the language. the language is one of the amusements of montenegro. it is not an easy one. i hunted it about london for months, and it landed me in strange places. the schools and systems that teach all the languages of europe, asia, africa, and america know it not. in the course of my chase i caught a roumanian, a hungarian, and an albanian, but i got no nearer to it. i pursued it to a balkan consulate, which proved to consist entirely of englishmen who knew no word of the tongue, but kindly communicated with a ministry which consisted, so they said, entirely of very charming men, with whom i should certainly be pleased. the ministry was puzzled, but wished to give me every encouragement. it had never before had such a run upon its language. it suggested that the most suitable person to instruct me would be an ex-minister who had come over to attend the funeral of queen victoria. the ex-minister was very polite, but wrote that he was on the point of returning to his native land. he therefore proposed that a certain gallant and dashing officer, attache to the legation, should be instructed to call and converse with me once a week. "no remuneration, of course," he added, "must be offered to the gallant captain." "but suppose," i said feebly, "the captain doesn't care about the job; it seems a little awkward, doesn't it?" "oh no," said the consul, exultant; "when he hears it is by the orders of x., he won't dare refuse." as i am not a character in one of mr. anthony hope's novels, but merely live in a london suburb, i thanked everybody and retired upon a small grammar, dazzled by the fierce light that my inquiries had shed upon the workings of this balkan state, and wondering if all the others were equally ready to loan out ministers and attaches to unknown foreigners. there is a childish simplicity about the conversation of the up-country peasant folk that is quite charming. they are as pleased with a stranger who will talk to them as is a child with a kitten that will run after a string, and, like children, they have no scruples about asking what in a more "grown-up" state of society would be considered indiscreet questions, including even the state of one's inside. the women begin the conversation and retail the details to their lords and masters, who, burning with curiosity, stand aloof with great dignity for a little while, and end by crowding out the women altogether. neither men nor women have the vaguest idea whence i come nor to what manner of life i am accustomed. when they learn that i have come in a train and a steamboat, their amazement is unbounded. that i come from a far countrie that is full of gold is obvious. "and thou hast come so far to see us? bravo!" much patting on the back, and sometimes an affectionate squeeze from an enthusiastic lady, who at once informs the men that i am very thin and very hard. "bravo! thou art brave. art married?" "no." great excitement and much whispering. "wait, wait," says a woman, and she shouts "milosh! milosh!" at the top of her voice. milosh edges his way through the crowd. he is a tall, sun-tanned thing of about eighteen years, with the eyes of a startled stag. his mother stands on tiptoe and whispers in his ear that this is a chance not to be lightly thrown away. a broad smile spreads over milosh's face. he looks coy, and twiddles his fingers. "ask her! ask her!" say the ladies encouragingly. "ask her!" say the men. milosh plucks up courage, thumps his chest and blurts out, "wilt thou have me?" "no, thank you," i say, laughing; and milosh retires amid the jeers of his friends, but really much relieved. "milosh, thou art not beautiful enough," say the men; and they suggest one gavro as being more likely to please. gavro takes milosh's place with great alacrity, and the same ceremony is repeated. the crowd enjoys itself vastly, and tries to fit me out with a really handsome specimen. i glance round, and my eye is momentarily caught by a very goodly youth. "no! no! he's mine, he's mine!" cries a woman, who seizes him by the arm, and he is hastily withdrawn from competition amid shouts of laughter. "i have no money," says one youth frankly, "but thou hast perhaps enough." "and he is good and beautiful," say his friends. for they are all cheerfully aware that their faces are their only fortunes. there is a barbaric simplicity and a lack of any attempt at romance about the proposed arrangements which is exquisitely funny, for they are far too honest to pretend that i possess any attractions beyond my supposed wealth. i have often wondered what the crowd would do if i accepted someone temporarily, but have never dared try. five offers in twenty minutes is about my highest record. but all these are country amusements. cetinje is far too civilised a city to indulge in them, and to "see montenegro" we must wander much farther afield. [illustration: cemetery near cetinje.] chapter ii podgoritza and rijeka travelling in montenegro--in fine weather, be it said--is delightful from start to finish. and to shan, my albanian driver, whose care, fidelity, and good nature have added greatly to the success of many of my tours, i owe a passing tribute. he is short and dark, a somewhat mixed specimen of his race, and hails from near the borders, where folk are apt to be so mixed that it is hard to tell which is the true type. careful of his three little horses, and always ready in an emergency, he yet preserves the gay, inconsequent nature of a very young child. his veneer of civilisation causes him to assume for short intervals an appearance of great stiffness and dignity, but it melts suddenly, and his natural spirits bubble through. thus, at an inn door before foreigners, he is stately, but in the kitchen to which i have been invited to accompany him, he waves his arms wildly and performs a war dance, chaffs the ladies, and makes himself highly agreeable. his tastes are simple and easily satisfied. i have stood him several treats of his own selection, and they usually cost about fourpence. one was an immense liver which was toasted for him in hot wood ashes, and which he consumed along with a whole loaf of bread--whereupon he expressed himself as feeling much better. his generosity is unfailing; at the top of a pass, in a heavy storm of sleet, he offered me the greatcoat he was wearing, and he is always ready to help a distressed wayfarer. one awful evening, when the rain was falling in torrents and it was rapidly growing dark, we were hailed, between rijeka and cetinje, by a man in distress. a sheep, his only one, which he was driving up to cetinje, had fallen, wet and exhausted, by the roadside, and he knew not what to do. shan was greatly concerned. he explained to me that the man was very poor, the sheep very tired and also that the sheep was a very little one, then he took it in his arms like a baby and arranged it on the box, where it cuddled up against him for warmth, and, through wind, rain, and the blackest night i have ever been out in, he drove three horses abreast, held up an umbrella, nursed the sheep, and sang songs till we arrived safely at our journey's end. acting on the principle of "do as you would be done by," when his pouch is full, he distributes tobacco lavishly along the route with a fine "damn-the-expense" air which one cannot but admire, and when not a shred remains, he begs it, quite shamelessly, of everyone he meets. when i first made his acquaintance, his appearance puzzled me. learning that he was an albanian, i remarked upon the fact to him; he immediately crossed himself hastily. "yes, an albanian," he admitted, "but cattolici, cattolici," and he added as an extra attraction, "and i came to montenegro when i was very little." he persists in regarding me as a co-religionist; for the fact that i am neither orthodox nor mohammedan is to him quite sufficient proof. his catholicism is quite original. unlike most catholic albanians, who display a horror of the orthodox church, he is most pressing in his attentions to the orthodox priests, and will never, if he can help it, be left out of a circle of conversation that includes one. one easter day i saw him persist in kissing, in orthodox fashion, the village priest, who having more than enough osculation to go through with his own flock, did his best to dodge him, but was loudly smacked upon the back of the neck. his views upon doctrinal points are mixed, but his simple creed has taught him faith, hope, and charity "which is the greatest of the three." withal he is a bit of a buck, and likes to cut a dash in what he considers large towns. he strolls in when i am having dinner and converses with the company at large; he makes me a flowery speech--he is my servant; it is mine to command and his to obey; whatever i order he will carry out with pleasure. when he learns that i shall not require him till to-morrow, he beams all over his sun-tanned face. then he fidgets and makes pointless remarks. i do not help him. he strolls with elaborate carelessness behind my chair and whispers hurriedly that towns are very expensive, and if i would only advance him a florin or two of his pay--i supply the needful, and later i meet him, a happy man, playing the duke among a crowd of friends, to all of whom he introduces me with great style and elegance. but his dissipations are very mild, though from the swagger he puts on you would think they were bold and bad. i have never seen him the worse for drink, and he is punctuality itself and very honest. child of the race with about the worst reputation in europe though he is, i would trust him under most circumstances. leaving cetinje by its only road, we soon reach the top of the pass, and a sudden turn reveals the land beyond. we have come across europe to the edge of christianity, and stand on the rocky fortress with the enemy in sight. the white road serpentines down the mountain side, and far below lies the green valley and its tiny village, dobrsko selo; on all sides rise the crags wild and majestic; away in the distance gleams the great silver lake of skodra. beyond it the blue albanian mountains, their peaks glittering with snow even in june, show fainter and fainter, and the land of mystery and the unspeakable turk fades into the sky--a scene so magnificent and so impressive that it is worth all the journey from england just to have looked at it. we cast loose our third horse, and rattle all the way down to rijeka, skimming along the mountain side and swinging round the zigzags on a road that it takes barely two hours to descend and quite three to climb up again; for cetinje lies 1900 feet above the sea, and rijeka not much more than 200 feet. rijeka means a stream, and the town so called is a cluster of most picturesque, half-wooden houses, facing green trees and a ripple of running water and backed by the mountain side--as pretty a place as one need wish to see. the stream's full name is rijeka crnoievicheva, the river of crnoievich, but for everyday use town and river are simply rijeka. but its full name must not be forgotten, for it keeps alive the fame of ivan beg crnoievich, who ruled in the latter half of the fifteenth century, in the days when montenegro's worst troubles were beginning. unable to hold the plains of the zeta against the turk, ivan gathered his men together, burnt his old capital, zabljak, near the head of the lake, retired into the mountains, and founded cetinje in 1484. he built a castle above rijeka as a defence to his new frontier, and swore to hold the black mountain against all comers. but he meant his people to grow as a nation worthily, and not to degenerate into a horde of barbarians. he founded the monastery at cetinje, appointed a bishop and built churches. and--for he was quite abreast of his times--he sent to venice for type and started a printing press at rijeka. in spite of the difficulties and dangers that beset the montenegrins, they printed their first book little more than twenty years later than caxton printed his at westminster. ivan is not dead, but sleeps on the hill above rijeka, and he will one day awake and lead his people to victory. the printing press was burned by the turks, and the books which issued from it--fine specimens of the printer's art--are rare. the stream rijeka is a very short one. it rises in some curious caverns not much farther up the valley, and flows into the lake of skodra. the town is built of cranky little houses, half turkish in style, with open wooden galleries painted green--gimcrack affairs, that look as though they might come down with a run any minute, when filled as they frequently are with a party of heavy men. it has an old-world look, but, as most of the town was burnt by the turks in 1862, appearances are deceptive. a perfect bond street of shops faces the river. here you can buy at a cheap rate all the necessaries of montenegrin existence. in the baker's shop the large round flat loaves of bread, very like those dug up at pompeii, are neatly covered with a white cloth to keep off the flies. plenty of tobacco is grown in the neighbourhood. in the autumn the cottages are festooned with the big leaves drying in the sun, and you may see albanians, sitting on their doorsteps, shredding up the fragrant weed with a sharp knife into long, very fine strips till it looks like a bunch of hair, shearing through a large pile swiftly, with machine--like regularity and precision. tobacco is a cheap luxury, and i am told montenegrin tobacco is good. almost every man in montenegro smokes from morning till night, generally rolling up the next cigarette before the last is finished. the town possesses a burgomaster, a post-office, a steamboat office, a palace, and an inn, which provides a good dinner on market days. it is a clean, prosperous, friendly, and very simple-minded place--i did not realise how simple-minded till i spent an afternoon sitting on the wall by the river, drawing the baker's shop, with some twenty montenegrins sitting round in a crimson and blue semicircle. it was in the days when i knew nothing of the language, and the boer war was as yet unfinished. i drew, and my friend talked. a youth in western garb acted as interpreter. he ascertained whence we had come, and then remarked airily, "now, i come from hungary, and i am walking to the transvaal. this man," pointing out a fine young montenegrin, "is coming with me!" stumbling, voluble and excited, in very broken german, he unfolded their crazy plan. they were both brave men and exceedingly rich. "i have two thousand florins, and a hundred more or less makes no difference to him," kept cropping up like the burden of a song. their families had wept and prayed, but had failed to turn them from their purpose. they were going to walk to the transvaal. "but you can't," we said. he was hurt. "of course not all the way," he knew that. they had meant to walk across albania to salonika, but the consul at skodra had put a stop to this dangerous scheme. now they were going by sea from cattaro to alexandria, and thence, also by sea, to lorenzo marques. after this, they should "walk to the transvaal." "why don't you walk from alexandria?" we asked. he answered quite seriously that they had thought of this, but they had been told there was a tribe of arabs in the centre of africa even more ferocious than the albanians, so, though they were of course very brave men, they thought on the whole they preferred the boat. when they arrived, they meant to fight on whichever side appeared likely to win, and then they were going to pick up gold. we thought it our duty to try and dissuade them from their wild-goose chase, but our efforts were treated with scorn. "what can you do? you speak very little german, and your friend nothing but servian." "no, he doesn't," said the hungarian indignantly. "he speaks albanian very well, and i--i know many languages. i speak servian and hungarian." the idea that a place existed where no one spoke these well-known tongues was to him most ridiculous, and the montenegrin, to whom it was imparted, smiled incredulously. we urged the price of living and the cost of machinery required in gold-mining. the first he did not believe; the second he thought very silly. the gold was there, and he was not such a fool as to require a machine with which to pick it up. [illustration: baker's shop, rijeka.--aujaman and two montenegrins.] the montenegrin, who had been bursting with a question for the last quarter of an hour, insisted on its being put. "could he buy a good revolver in johannesburg?" he waited anxiously for a reply. "you see," explained the hungarian, "he must leave his in montenegro." "but why? it looks a very good one." the montenegrin patted his weapon lovingly; he only wished he could take it, it would be most useful, but ... in order to reach the boat at cattaro he must cross austrian territory, and you are not allowed to carry firearms in austria! he shook his head dolefully when we said that permission could surely be obtained. "no, this was quite impossible; under no circumstances could it be managed. you don't know what the austrians are!" said the hungarian mysteriously. the unknown land, the unknown tongues, the british, the boers, the rumble-tumble ocean and the perils of the deep were all as nothing beside the difficulty of crossing the one narrow strip of austrian land. we told him revolvers were plentiful in johannesburg, and the prospect of finding home comforts cheered him greatly. we parted the best of friends. from rijeka the road rises rapidly again, and strikes over the hills, winding through wild and very sparsely inhabited country. the mountain range ends abruptly, and we see the broad plains stretching away below us, with the white town of podgoritza in the midst of it. the plain is very obviously the bed of the now shrunken lake of skodra, and the water-worn pebbles are covered with but a thin layer of soil. but both maize and tobacco seem to do well upon it, and every year more land is taken into cultivation. the rough land is covered with wiry turf and low bushes, and swarms with tortoises which graze deliberately by the roadside. the river moracha has cut itself a deep chasm in the loose soil between us and the town, and tears along in blue-green swirls and eddies. we have to overshoot the town to find the bridge, and we clatter into podgoritza six or seven hours after leaving cetinje, according to the weather and the state of the road. podgoritza is the biggest town in montenegro, and has between five and six thousand inhabitants. it is well situated for a trading centre, for it is midway between cetinje and nikshitje, and is joined by a good road to plavnitza, on the lake of scutari, so is in regular steamboat communication with skodra and with antivari _via_ virbazar. its position has always given it some importance. as a turkish garrison town it was a convenient centre from which to invade montenegro; to the montenegrin it was part of his birthright--part of the ancient kingdom of servia--and as such to be wrested from the enemy. it was the brutal massacre of twenty montenegrins in and near the town in time of peace (october 1874) that decided the montenegrins to support the herzegovinian insurrection and declare war. podgoritza was besieged and taken in october 1876. the walls of the old town were blown to pieces with guns taken from the turks at medun, and an entirely new town has since sprung up on the opposite side of the stream ribnitza. podgoritza (= "at the foot of the mountain"), if you have come straight from the west, is as amusing a place as you need wish to visit. it has not so many show places as cetinje even, and its charm is quite undefinable. it consists in its varied human crowd, its young barbarians all at play, its ideas that date from the world's well--springs, subtly intermingled with manchester cottons, lemonade in glass-ball-stoppered bottles, and other blessings of an enlightened present. the currents from the east and the west meet here, the old world and the new; and those to whom the spectacle is of interest, may sit upon the bridge and watch the old order changing. the montenegrin town of podgoritza is clean and bright. the long wide main street of white stone, red-roofed shops with their gay wares, and the large open market square where the weekly bazaar is held, are full of life. both street and market-place are planted with little trees, acacias and white mulberries; and the bright green foliage, the white road, the red roofs, the green shutters, the variety of costume, make an attractive scene in the blaze of the southern sun. across the gold-brown plain rise the blue mountains where lies that invisible line the frontier. the slim minarets of the old turkish town shoot up and shimmer white on sky and mountain; the river ribnitza flows between the old town and the new, and over the bridge passes an endless stream of strange folk, the villagers of the plain and the half-wild natives of the albanian mountains passing from the world of the middle ages to a place which feels, however faintly, the forces of the twentieth century. bullock carts, with two huge wheels and basket-work tops, trail slowly past, groaning and screeching on their ungreased axles. look well at the carts, for our own forefathers used them in the eleventh century, and they appear in the harleian mss. everything moves slowly. all day long folk draw water from the stone-topped well on the open space between the old town and the new--draw it slowly and laboriously, for there is no windlass or other labour-saving contrivance, and the water is pulled up in a canvas bag tied to a string. three or four bagfuls go to one bucket. in spite of the fact that podgoritza is the centre of the anglo-montenegrin trading company and deals in manchester cottons, the day seems distant when it will lose its other simple habits. i was walking one day down the "high street" with a friend, when a young albanian went to call on his tailor. he came out presently with a fine new pair of the tight white trousers that his clan affects. he exhibited them in the middle of the road to two or three friends, and they were all evidently much struck with the make and embroidery. if the garments were so charming "off," what would they be "on"! the whole party hurried across to the shop door of the happy purchaser, and such an alarming unbuckling and untying began to take place that we! discreetly went for a little walk. on our return the transfer had been effected. two friends were grasping the garment by the front and back, and the wearer was being energetically jigged and shaken into it. this was a tough job, for it was skin-tight. the legs were then hooked-and-eyed up the back, and presently the youth was strutting down the middle of the road stiff-kneed and elegant, with the admiring eyes of podgoritza upon him, and a ridiculously self-conscious smile. [illustration: bullock cart, podgoritza.] wandering gipsy tribes turn up here, too; mysterious roving gangs, their scant possessions, tin pots and tent poles, piled on ponies; their children, often as naked as they were born, perched on top of the load. they have no abiding place; impelled by a primeval instinct, they pass on eternally. extraordinarily handsome savages some of them are, too. i have seen them on the march--the men in front, three abreast, swinging along like panthers; half stripped, clad in dirty white breeches and cartridges; making up with firearms for deficiency in shirts, and carrying, each man, in addition to his rifle, a long sheath knife and a pistol in his red sash, their matted coal-black locks falling down to their beady, glittering black eyes, which watch you like a cat's, without ever looking you straight in the face. their white teeth and the brass cases of the cartridges sparkling against their swarthy skins, they passed with their heads held high on their sinewy throats with an air of fierce and sullen independence. behind follow the boys, women, and children, with all their worldly goods; golden-brown women with scarlet lips and dazzling teeth, their hair hanging in a thick black plait on either side of the face, like that of the ladies of ancient egypt; holding themselves like queens, and, unlike their lords and masters, smiling very good-naturedly. so entirely do they appear to belong to an unknown, untamed past, that i was astonished when one of them, a splendid girl in tawny orange and crimson, addressed me in fluent italian outside the podgoritza inn. "i am a gipsy. are you italian?" italy was her only idea of a foreign land, and england quite unknown to her. she hazarded a guess that it was far off, and imparted the information to a little crowd of albanian and montenegrin boys who were hanging around. when the servant of the inn thought the crowd too large, he came out to scatter it. the boys fled precipitately; the girl stood her ground firmly, as one conscious of right, and told him what she thought of him volubly and fiercely, her eyes flashing the while. he retired discomfited, and she informed us superbly, "i told him the ladies wished to speak to me!" unlike the montenegrins, she understood at once that we were merely travelling for travelling's sake, and regarded it as perfectly natural. she retired gracefully when she had learnt what she wished to know. the montenegrin and albanian gipsies are mostly mohammedans, and what is vaguely described as pagan. they seldom or never, it is said, intermarry with the people among whom they wander, but keep themselves entirely to themselves. one day the old quarter of podgoritza was agog with a mohammedan gipsy wedding. from across the river we heard the monotonous rhythmic pulsation of a tambourine, and at intervals the long-drawn oriental yowl that means music. we strolled down to the bridge and joined the very motley collection of sight-seers. gay and filthy, they gathered round us, and enjoyed at once the spectacle of two foreigners of unknown origin and the festivity which was going on in the back garden hard by. it could hardly be called a garden, it was the yard of a squalid little hovel backing on the river, and was filled with women in gorgeous raiment walking backwards and forwards in rows that met and swayed apart, singing a long howling chant, while the pom-pom and metallic jingle of the tambourine sounded over the voices with mechanical regularity. presently all fell aside and left a space, into which leapt a dancing-girl, a mass of white silk gauze with a golden zouave and belt and a dangling coin head-dress. she wreathed her arms gracefully over her head and danced a complicated _pas-seul_ with great aplomb and certainty, her white draperies swirling round her and her gold embroideries flashing in the sunlight. when she ceased, the party withdrew into the dirty little hut, and as we were now the whole attraction to the obviously verminous crowd we withdrew also. the hut was the headquarters of the bridegroom, and this was a preliminary entertainment. next morning, four carriages dashed into the town at once, bringing the bride and her escort from skodra in albania. the horses' heads were decorated with gaily embroidered muslin handkerchiefs, and the bride's carriage was closely curtained and veiled. the amount of men and weapons that poured out of the other vehicles was astounding. when three carriages had unloaded, the bride's carriage drove up close to the entrance of the yard in which the hut stood, and the men made a long tunnel from door to door by holding up white sheets; down this the bride fled safe and invisible, while curiosity devoured the spectators on the bridge. every window in the hut was already shuttered and barred, and we thought there was no more to be seen. but our presence had been already noted. a commotion arose among the men at the door of the hovel. a young montenegrin onlooker came up, pulled together all his foreign vocabulary and stammeringly explained, "they wish you to go into their house." all the men in the crowd were consumed with curiosity about the hidden bride, and obviously envied us the invitation. we hesitated to plunge into the filthy hole. we didn't hesitate long, though. the bride and her friends meant to show off their finery to the foreigners; a dark swagger fellow who would take no denial was sent out to fetch us, and we followed our escort obediently to the cottage door. we paused a half-second on the doorstep; it looked bad inside, but it was too late to go back. a passage was cleft for us immediately, and we found ourselves in a long low room with a mud floor--a noisome, squalid den in which one would not stable an english donkey. there was no light except what came through the small door and the chinks. it was packed with men; their beady, bright eyes and silver weapons glittered, the only sparks of brightness in the gloom. as my eyes got accustomed to the subdued light, i saw in the corner a huge caldron of chunks of most unpleasant-looking boiled mutton, with floating isles of fat, and my heart sank at the thought that perhaps our invitation included the wedding breakfast. the men guarding the door of the inner apartment parted, and we went in. no man, save the bridegroom, entered here. it was a tiny hole of a room, but its dirty stone walls were ablaze with glittering golden embroideries and it was lighted by oil lamps. the floor was covered with women squatting close together, their brown faces, all unveiled, showing very dark against their gorgeous barbaric costumes. it was a fierce jostle of colours--patches of scarlet, orange, purple and white, mellowed and harmonised by the lavish use of gold over all, coin head-dresses, necklaces, and girdles in reckless profusion. in the light of common day it would doubtless resolve itself into copper-gilt and glass jewels, but by lamplight it was all that could be desired. on a chair, the only one in the room, with her back to the partition wall, so as to be quite invisible to the men in the next room, sat the bride, upright, motionless, rigid like an eastern idol. her hands lay in her lap, her clothes were stiff with gold, and she was covered down to the knees with a thick purple and gold veil. there she has to sit without moving all day. she may not even, i am told, feed herself, but what nourishment she is allowed is given her under the veil by one of the other ladies. at her feet, cross-legged on the ground, sat the bridegroom, who i believe had not yet seen her--quite the most decorative bridegroom i ever saw, a good-looking fellow of about five-and-twenty, whose black and white albanian garments, tight-fitting, showed him off effectively, while the arsenal of fancy weapons in his sash gave him the required touch of savagery. he gazed fixedly at the purple veil, endeavouring vainly to penetrate its mysteries, and, considering the trying circumstances in which he was placed, seemed to be displaying a good deal of fortitude. the air was heavy with scented pastilles, otherwise the human reek must have been unbearable. everyone began to talk at once, and it was evident from their nods and smiles that we had done the correct thing in coming. unfortunately we couldn't understand a word, but we bowed to everyone, repeated our thanks, and tried to express our wonder and admiration. whether we were intended to stay or not i do not know, but, haunted by a desire to escape with as small a collection of vermin as possible, and also to evade the chunks of mutton in the caldron, we backed our way, bowing, into the outer room after a few minutes, and were politely escorted to the entrance. judging by the smiles and bows of everyone, our visit gave great satisfaction. after we left, the doors were shut, and there was a long lull, during which the mutton was probably consumed. if so, we escaped only just in time. in the afternoon the tambourines and sing-songs started again, and far into the night the long-drawn yowls of the epithalamium came down the wind. in spite of the mixed christian and mohammedan population, excellent order is maintained. the more i see of the montenegrin, the more i am struck with his power of keeping order. it is a favourite joke against him that when he asks for a job and is questioned as to his capabilities, he replies that he is prepared to "superintend," and it turns out that he is unable to do anything else. but not even our own policeman can perform the said "superintending" more quietly and efficiently. to the traveller the mohammedan is very friendly. the attempt of a man to draw or photograph a woman is an insult which is not readily forgiven and may lead to serious consequences, but as long as one conforms to local customs these people are as kindly as one could wish, and not by a long way so black as they have often been painted. as a matter of fact a large proportion of the rows that occur all over the world between different nationalities arise from someone's indiscreet attentions to someone else's girl. and this is why a lady travelling alone almost always has a friendly welcome, for on this point at any rate she is above suspicion. the orthodox montenegrin is equally anxious to make one feel at home. at easter-tide, when the whole town was greeting each other and giving pink eggs, we were not left out. "krsti uskrshnio je" ("christ has risen") is the greeting, to which one must reply, "truly he has risen," accepting the egg. people go from house to house, and eggs stand ready on the table for the visitors, who kiss the master and mistress of the house three times in the name of the trinity. montenegrin kisses--i speak merely as an onlooker--are extremely hearty. it is surprising what a number they get through on such a festival. for four days does the easter holiday last. montenegrins take their holidays quietly. it used to be said of the englishman that he takes his pleasures sadly. but that was before the evolution of the race culminated in 'any and 'arriet. the montenegrin has not yet reached this pitch of civilisation. i wonder whether he inevitably must, and if so, whether what he will gain will at all compensate for what he must lose. for civilisation, as at present understood, purchases luxuries at the price of physical deterioration. high living is by no means always accompanied by high thinking, and ... the end of it the future must show. when the montenegrin has learnt what a number of things he cannot possibly do without, let us hope he will be in some way the better. it is certain he will be in many ways the worse. things christian lie on one side of the ribnitza, and things mohammedan on the other. the turkish graveyard lies out beyond the old town, forlorn and melancholy as they mostly are. the burial-ground of the orthodox is on the montenegrin side of the town. the dead are borne to the grave in an open coffin, and the waxen face of the corpse is visible. the coffin-lid is carried next in the procession. i was told that this curious custom originated in the fact that sham funerals were used when the balkan provinces were under turkish rule as a means of smuggling arms. but i doubt this tale. for the custom used to prevail in italy, and does still, i believe, in spain. it is, in all probability, much older than the turks, and a tradition that dates from the days when burning and not burial was the usual way of disposing of the dead and the body was carried to the funeral pyre upon a bier. the open coffin, the funeral songs, and the commemorative feasts annually held on the graves by many of the south slavs, the lights and incense burnt upon the graves, and the lighted candles carried in the funeral processions together reproduce, with extraordinary fidelity, the rites and ceremonies of the romans. and how much older they may be we know not. chapter iii ostrog i have driven the road many a time since, and i have been again to ostrog, but i shall never forget that day three years ago when i went there for the first time. it was the only part of that journey about which our advisers said we should find no difficulty; "foreign languages" were spoken, and there would be no trouble about accommodation. we started from podgoritza early and in high spirits. the valley of the zeta is green and well cultivated. it narrows as we ascend it, and an isolated hill crowned with the ruins of a turkish fortress stands up commandingly in the middle. this is the "bloody" spuzh of the ballads, the stronghold that guarded the former turkish frontier. montenegro at this point was barely fifteen miles across, and spuzh and nikshitje gripped it on either hand. from being a border town with an exciting existence spuzh has subsided into an unimportant village. danilovgrad, on the other hand, a few miles farther on, a town founded in memory of the late prince, is full of life, and though a bit rudimentary at present, shows signs of soon becoming large and flourishing. it is possible now to drive right up to the lower monastery of ostrog by a fine new road, but this did not yet exist on my first visit, and we pulled up at bogatich--a poverty-stricken collection of huts and a tiny church. a tall, lean, sad-eyed montenegrin, with his left arm in a sling, came out of the little "han" to greet us, bringing with him a strong whiff of carbolic. they were a melancholy little household. his wife, who brought water for our reeking horses, had had her right arm taken off an inch or two below the elbow, and carried the bucket horribly in the crook of the stump. they cheered up when they heard we wanted a guide to the monastery, and called their daughter from the shed for the purpose. she came out, a shy, wild-looking thing of about fifteen, barefooted, her knitting in her hands, accepted the job at once, tied our two hand-bags on her back with a bit of cord, and we started up in search of the unknown, armed with a leg of cold mutton, a loaf of black bread, a sketch-book, and a flask of brandy. it was midday, and almost midsummer; the air was heavy with thunder, and no breath of a breeze stirred as we scrambled up the loose stones. the girl snorted loudly like a pig, to show us the way we should go, and took us, in true montenegrin fashion, straight up from point to point without heeding the zigzags of the horse-track except where the steepness of the rock compelled her. the way soon became steeper and steeper, in fact a mere rock scramble, and it was abominably hot; and when suddenly our plucky little guide, who had as yet shown no signs of fatigue, gave out all her breath with a long whistle and pointed to the nearest patch of shade, we gladly called a halt. the great advantage of a girl-guide is that she takes you to the right place and you can rest on the way. little boys as a general rule are vague and inconsequent; they pick up crowds of friends _en route_, even in the most desolate and apparently uninhabited spots, and you don't generally arrive at your destination. either they don't know the way, or they conduct you to another spot, for reasons of their own. we sat with our girl, and made futile attempts to converse with her. it was a wild, lonely spot, and save the rough track worn by generations of pilgrims, as rugged as it was created. great grey limestone rocks arose around us, with sturdy young trees sprouting in the crannies; a small grey snake wound its way over the sunbaked stones, and a tortoise scrambled about the grass alongside. the valley shimmered in a hot haze far below, and beyond towered the bare crags of the opposite mountains. we seemed a very long way from anywhere. appearances were however deceptive, as a short scramble brought us to a wall, a gateway, and some buildings. the girl seemed to think we had now arrived, and we imagined that we were about to find the guest-house where french, italian, and german were spoken. we passed through the gateway on to a long wide shelf on the mountain side, 1900 feet above the sea. two or three very poor cottages stood at the entrance, and at the farther end a tiny church, crudely painted with a maroon dado of geometrical patterns, and three small houses all apparently shut up and uninhabited. not a soul was to be seen. the girl went into one of the cottages and fetched a tin pot of cold water, which we all drank greedily, seeing which the cottage woman came out and supplied us with as much as we required, and gave us a bench to sit on. she was mildly concerned at our appearance, for we had sweated all through our shirts, and the girl had left a black hand-print on my back, but she spoke no word of any other language but her own, and speedily retired again to her cottage. we sat on the bench and pondered, feeling very forlorn. if this were ostrog, as the girl assured us with vigorous nods, it was not worth the roasting scramble. we were miserably disappointed, but decided that, as we had come to see ostrog, we would see it properly, and that, if there were any inhabitants, they had not finished the midday siesta. we squeezed into a patch of shadow and cut up the mutton and black bread with a pocket-knife; the girl gladly assisted, and ate like a wolf, bolting large chunks with great appetite. there was quite a cheery lot of brandy in the flask, and as we carefully packed up the remains of the meal, in case of a siege, we felt very much better. then down the wide white path from the houses came a man, an old, old man in western garb. he tottered up, and we hailed him in all our known languages; french and italian failed, but he responded to german, and started at once on his own autobiography. he was an old soldier, he had fought under karageorgevich. now he had retired here to end his days. "they" had sent him here, and "they" had made him dig his grave. it was waiting for him on the mountain side. he was very lonely, and had no one to talk to. as soon as we could stem the torrent of his remarks, we asked him about quarters for the night. "had we an introduction from the archimandrite at cetinje?" "no?" then we had better go back where we had come from, and we had better start at once, if we meant to get to nikshitje that night. we were appalled. he repeated obstinately, "you must go, and if you take my advice, you will go at once. i can do nothing for you. they," he admitted mysteriously, "cannot bear me. it is useless for me to ask them. they can speak nothing but servian, and you will not be able to make them understand. they would have to send for me. moreover, they are asleep." he pointed to "their" house. we asked when "they" were likely to wake up again, and he said it would be in about an hour's time. we doubted his statements, for his air was very malevolent, so as our little maiden was already coiled up on the ground fast asleep, we thought it would be just as well to rest until "they" could be appealed to. the old gentleman "who had no one to talk to" went off and indulged in an animated conversation with the cottage woman, while we dozed under a tree. when we aroused ourselves again, not much rested, we saw the shutters of "their" house were now open, so we marched up to the front door, knocked, and awaited results tremulously. nothing happened; we knocked a second time, and fled down the steps. immediately the door flew open, and there was the archimandrite of ostrog himself, in long black gown, crimson sash, and high velvet hat--a little old man whose thin iron-grey locks flowed on his shoulders. he came rushing down the steps and shook us by the hands, saying, "dobar dan, dobar dan" (good-day), as heartily as though he had been expecting us and we had come at last. we said, "dobar dan," also, with enthusiasm, and then the conversation came to an abrupt conclusion. he showed us with great ceremony into his sitting-room, and made us sit on the sofa, while he sat opposite on a chair. we felt acutely uncomfortable--not one single word of english, french, german, or italian did the good man know. we made him understand that we had come from england, which amazed him, and that we had walked from bogatich. then we stuck hopelessly and helplessly, while he, undaunted, went on in his native language. it seemed as if our climb to ostrog had failed, and that flight was all that was left for us. we got up and said "good-bye" politely. our departure he would by no means permit. "sjedite, sjedite!" he cried, waving us back to the sofa, and down we sat again, feeling much worse. a montenegrin about six feet four inches in height, clad in a huge brown overcoat, answered his summoning bell, and presently returned with two glasses of cold water on a brass tray which he offered to us ceremoniously, towering over us and watching us with lofty toleration, as a big dog does a little one. he waited patiently until we had drunk every drop, collected the glasses, and silently retired from the room backwards. a horrible silence ensued. we took out our watches and showed them to each other, in hopes that the archimandrite would then understand that our time was really up. but no. a fearful wrestle with the language followed, and lasted till the big-dog montenegrin reappeared, this time with two cups of coffee. we obediently began to consume this, and the archimandrite, despairing of ever making us understand single-handed, instructed his servant to fetch the gentleman-who-spoke-german. through him we were at once informed that the archimandrite offered us hospitality for the night in the house over the way. we were much amazed, and accepted gratefully. with apologies, he then inquired if we were married, and hastened to assure us that there was no disgrace attached to the fact that we were not. we were slightly dismayed when we were told we now had the archimandrite's gracious permission to visit the shrine, and that we were to start at once. we were put upon the right track and left to our own devices. we had been up since five, and had only had a scrappy, unhappy doze under the tree, so we told each other we would go to sleep on the first piece of ground that was flat enough. having zigzagged up some way through the wood, we lay down on a piece of grass, and should have been asleep in a minute had not two natives appeared, an old man and a handsome lad. they seemed much interested and concerned. i merely said it was very hot, and hoped it would be enough for them. not a bit of it. they started an argument. i said i didn't speak the language, so they shouted to make it clearer, and kept pointing up the path. what they meant i did not know. it was evident, though, that the handsome lad did not mean to be trifled with. he squatted alongside of us and shouted in my ear, while the old man sat down and showed signs of staying as long as we did. so we wearily started upwards again, and the montenegrins, delighted at having made us understand, went their way much pleased with their own cleverness. we dared not rest again, and soon reached the upper monastery of ostrog, which was so strange and unexpected that the sight of it did away with all thoughts of fatigue at once. the path ended on a terrace cut in the rock 2500 feet above the sea. the small guest-house stood against the mountain side, and a flight of newly made steps led up through a stone doorway to a series of caverns in the cliff face, cunningly built in and walled up to form tiny rooms, which cling to the rock like swallows' nests. the big natural arch of rock that overshadows them all is grimed with the dead black of smoke, and two great white crosses painted on the cliff mark the shrine. straight above rises the almost perpendicular wall of bare rock, and far below lies the valley. this is the eagle eyrie that, in 1862, mirko petrovich, the princes father, and twenty-eight men held for eight days against the turkish army of, it is said, ten thousand men. the turks tried vainly to shell the tiny stronghold, and even a determined attempt to smoke out the gallant band failed. mirko and his men, when they had used all their ammunition and had rolled down rocks upon the enemy, succeeded in escaping over the mountains, under cover of night, and reached rijeka with the loss of one man only. it is a tale which yet brings the light of battle to the eyes of the montenegrin and sends his fingers to caress the butt of his revolver, and must be heard from montenegrin lips to be appreciated. a hundred years before, thirty men held this same cavern against an army, and wild as these tales sound, the first glance at the place forces belief. twice only have the turks succeeded in occupying it. once after mirko and his men left it, and once in 1877, when suleiman pasha held it, sent the proud message to constantinople that he had conquered montenegro and that it was time to appoint a turkish governor--and was soon in hot retreat to spuzh, losing half his men on the way. the lower monastery has, on the other hand, been burnt and rebuilt some ten times. we sat and stared at the scene of these wild doings. the black, smoke-grimed cavern told of the fierce struggle, and the great white cross of the holy man whose body rests within. sveti vasili (st. basil), a local saint, was, early in the eighteenth century, metropolitan of the herzegovina. in his old age he sought refuge in the mountains from turkish persecution, and passed his last days in this remote cavern cared for and reverenced by the christian peasants. shortly after his death they scooped out the rock and formed and dedicated to him the tiny chapel where his body still rests. his shrine is held in the profoundest veneration, and on trinity sunday (o.s.) pilgrims flock thither in thousands, tramping on foot from bosnia, the herzegovina, from albania, even from the uttermost corners of the balkan peninsula--a wonderful and most impressive sight. not christians alone but also mohammedans come to the shrine of st. vasili of ostrog, for "four hundred years of apostasy have not obliterated among the bosnian mussulmans a sort of superstitious trust in the efficacy of the faith of their fathers," and they come in hopes of help to the shrine of the man who suffered for it. and so also do those strange folk, the mohammedan albanians. i have passed the night up there in pilgrimage-time, when the mountain side was a great camp and the greater part of the pilgrims slept by watch fires under the stars; but in spite of the mixed nationalities and the difference of religion, perfect order prevailed, and i saw many acts of friendliness and consideration between folk from very different parts. the precious relics have always been removed in times of danger, and saved from the fate of those of the servian st. sava, which were publicly burned by the turks. they were, of course, removed during the last war. the coffin is not a weighty one and the soldiers were strong, but it became so heavy as they were carrying it down the valley that they knew not what to do. this they took as a sign from the saint that they should stop. they awaited the turks, and triumphantly defeated them. at the close of the war the relics were restored to the chapel without any difficulty. as we sat and looked at the knot of little cliff huts, a figure quite in keeping with them came through the doorway and slowly approached us. a magnificent old giant, with a silver beard and long white locks that flowed upon his shoulders, and showed him to be a priest. a tall black astrachan cap was on his head, and in spite of the heat he wore a heavy cloak of dark blue cloth lined with fur, a long blue tunic, and wide knickerbockers shoved into heavy leather boots at the knee. his high cap and his big cloak gave him great dignity, and he welcomed us with superb stateliness. then, intimating we were to follow him, he conducted us to his residence. it was a narrow little cave fronted in with planks. here we had to sit down while he fumbled at what was apparently a small cupboard door. he threw it open, and behold--an oil painting of himself, set in a gorgeous gilt frame that contrasted oddly with its rough surroundings. it was evidently a presentation portrait, and he sat down beaming by the side of it, for us to have every opportunity of admiring the likeness. we spread all our scanty stock of servian adjectives of approval about recklessly, and the result was that from some mysterious corner he produced a black bottle and a small liqueur glass, opaque with dirt. he held the glass up to the light and looked at it critically; even he realised that it was unclean; then he put in his thumb, which was also encrusted with the grime of ages, and he screwed it round and round. no effect whatever was produced on glass or thumb, for the dirt in both cases was ingrained. for one awful second he contemplated his thumb, and i thought he was going to suck it and make a further effort; but no, he was apparently satisfied, and he filled the glass with a pale spirit, which we hoped was strong enough to kill the germs. we drank his health with a show of enthusiasm which seemed to gratify him, for he patted us both affectionately. [illustration: upper monastery ostrog.] he then showed us up a wooden step ladder to a still tinier cavern, a dim cabin almost filled up by his bed, whose not over white sheets betrayed the unpleasing fact that ostrog was still subject to nocturnal attacks and much bloodshed. in a glass case on the wall hung his two medals, one russian, the other montenegrin, and, next these, three signed and sealed documents in cyrillic characters. he began reading out place-names in montenegro, bosnia, and the herzegovina, pointing to his medals, and would gladly have "fought all his battles o'er again," if we could but have understood him. his great treasure he displayed last, a large and handsome walking-stick elaborately mounted in gold filigree set with plates engraved with the said names. his admiration for it was unbounded, and he handled it respectfully. the rugged old giant, and his trophies, standing huge in his tiny lair up in the heart of the mountains, the light from the little window falling on his silver hair and beard, the glittering filigree, the dim squalid background, his pride and glee over his treasures, and the royal air with which he showed them, conjured up a whole life-drama in one swift instant. he broke the spell himself by putting the stick carefully back into its case, and, bowing and crossing himself reverently before a little ikon of our lady, led the way out to the chapel. the entrance was a low, narrow, rough-cut slit; he bowed twice and crossed himself, saw that we did the same, then stooped down and went into a small irregular cavern, its rough-hewn walls rudely frescoed with byzantine figures. it was very dark; one small window, hacked through the cliff face, and the narrow doorway alone lighted it. upon the rough ikonostasis he pointed out the figure of st. vasili in bishop's robes. then slowly and solemnly he began lighting the candles, striking a light with flint and steel. it took him a long time, and his age was betrayed by his tremulous hands and evidently weak sight. when he had finished, and the cavern was a-twinkle with tiny flames, he approached the shrine. removing the covering, he fumbled with the lock, opened it, and then threw back the lid slowly and respectfully. there lay the embalmed body of the saint; the slipper-clad feet, the embroidered robes, and the gold crucifix on the breast, only, showing. modern science and ancient faith had combined for perhaps the first and the last time, and the face and hands of the saint were neatly covered with carbolised cotton-wool. i was jolted back into the twentieth century with a rough shock. the sense of smell--perhaps because it is a wild-beast one--brings up its trains of associations more swiftly than any other, and the life of the old world and the life of the modern one leapt up in sharp contrast. to the old man, on the other hand, the scent was the odour of sanctity. he was filled with awe and reverence, and gazed at the body like one seeing a wondrous vision for the first time. he bent down slowly and kissed the slippered feet, the crucifix on the breast, and the cotton-wool over the face, crossing himself each time. then, fearful lest we should omit any part of the ceremony, he seized us each in turn by the back of the neck, poked our heads into the coffin and held them down on the right spots. we followed carefully the example he had set, and completed our pilgrimage to the shrine of st. vasili. he slowly closed and locked the coffin, and rearranged the drapery upon it. then we debated together as to how an offering was to be made. he, however, helped us out of the difficulty. he took a small metal bowl from the window, placed it reverently upon the coffin and counted some very small coins into it ostentatiously, clink, clink, then turned his back discreetly and began slowly extinguishing the candles. he allowed just sufficient time to carry out the approved ritual, and hurried back eagerly to inspect the bowl. it appeared that we had acted quite correctly on this occasion also. coming out through the narrow door into the open air again, we prepared to go; but the old man stopped us, pointed upwards, and shouted for someone. the "someone" came, and turned out to be the handsome and haughty lad who had so cruelly chivied us down below. he gazed at us with a superior smile, and in obedience to his orders led us up to a yet higher cavern, where he showed us a spring of very cold clear water. this is highly prized by the pilgrims to the shrine, who all bring bottles or gourds to fetch some away in. the lad, i think, expected us to do so, and as he had, as he imagined, made us understand by shouting before, he tried the same system again with great violence. we hastily remunerated him for his trouble, in hopes of changing his ideas, and he was sufficiently mollified to shake hands with us. whereupon we said good-bye, and left him. evening was drawing in when we reached the lower monastery, and service had just come to an end in the little church. the archimandrite, followed by his small congregation, came out as we approached. we were sleepy, dirty, and hungry, and the prospect of another interview in servian before getting food or rest was almost too much for us. to our dismay, we were again conducted to the archimandrites sitting-room. our relief was great when we heard the words, "vous parlez français, mesdemoiselles?" and we were introduced to a tall man in the long black robes and high cap of the orthodox ecclesiasts. singularly beautiful, his long brown hair flowing on his shoulders, he stood there more like a magnificent leonardo da vinci than a living human being. he spoke gently and kindly in the oddest broken french, expressing himself in little rudimentary sentences, begging us to be seated and telling us we were very welcome; "for we are christians," he said simply, "and is not hospitality one of the first of the christian virtues? i, too, am a guest here to-night. but you who have come so far to see us, it is the least we can do for you. from england," he repeated, "alone, all the way from england to see montenegro, quelle voyage! véritablement des héros! in montenegro you are as safe, vous savez, as in your own homes, but the journey--all across europe, that is another thing!" the archimandrite, he explained, regretted that our room was so long in being prepared for us. "it is because we have had a pilgrimage here lately and have had to accommodate very many people. therefore there was no place suitably furnished for you, but they are putting down the carpets, and it will soon be finished." we were horrified, and begged they would not take so much trouble; but he would not hear of it. "oh, it is a great pleasure to us all to know that in england there is such a good opinion of montenegro that two ladies will come all alone into our country and trust us; that the english should wish to know us!" i felt like an impostor; it was embarrassing to be given hospitality as the bearer of good-tidings from great britain, but to our innocent-minded entertainer the idea seemed quite simple and sufficient. he had nothing but good to say of everyone. for the two small boys who came in with the usual cold water and coffee, he was filled with admiration--their build, their muscular limbs, their honest, open faces. "montenegrin faces," he said, "ah! but they are beautiful my faithful montenegrins! it is my life," he went on, "to help these poor people. i have a church, a little, little church, away among the rocks. it is there that i live. if i had known, mesdemoiselles, before, that you were travelling this way, it would have given me great pleasure to show it to you. but i did not know until yesterday"; and he added, with a smile at our astonishment, "oh yes, in this country, vous savez, one hears of all strangers." the conversation was broken off by the announcement that our rooms were ready, and we all went over in a solemn little procession to the house over the way, the two ecclesiasts, the four servants and ourselves, and were shown in with many apologies for the poorness of the accommodation. the dear good people were putting the finishing touches when we entered, and had arranged two large rooms most comfortably. the archimandrite satisfied himself that the water jugs were full, that we had soap, and that the beds were all right. then both gentlemen shook hands with us and wished us good-night, and withdrew. an anxious quarter of an hour followed, during which we wondered whether we were going to be fed or not, and regretted that we had bestowed the remains of the bread and mutton on the girl; for we had been knocking about since five a.m., and it was now eight p.m. then there came a most welcome knock at the door, and we were taken to a large dining-room and a good dinner. it was a solemn meal. we were waited on by four men, who came in and out silently, supplied our wants, stood at attention and gazed at us stolidly. the largest was about six feet four and built to match, but extremely tame in spite of his weapons and his i size. i don't think he had the least idea how very small he made us feel. early next morning the archimandrite and our friend were already about, and came to see us breakfast and to beg that we would write our names in the visitors' book. we said all that we could in the way of thanks to our kind entertainer; he murmured a blessing over us, we shook hands, and were soon wandering down the mountain side. chapter iv nikshitje and dukle nikshitje is but two hours' drive from the beginning of the ostrog track, over a mountain pass and down on to a big plain. nikshitje, says the prince, is to be his new capital, and work is going on there actively. that it cannot be the capital yet a while seems pretty certain, for it is a very long way from anywhere, and the foreign consuls and ministers, who at present lament their isolation from the world and all its joys at cetinje, would all cry "jamais, jamais!" in their best diplomatic french, if called upon to transfer themselves to the heart of the land. it is certainly very beautifully situated; the wall of mountains which encircle the big plain is as fine as any in the country, and it is neither so cold in winter as is cetinje, nor in summer so hot and close as the low-lying plain of podgoritza. but until there is a road or a railroad that will connect nikshitje quickly with the coast, it cannot compete in importance with cetinje. a line that would connect servia with antivari _via_ nikshitje, join the two servian peoples, and give servia a port for export, is so much against austrian interests, both commercial and political, that austria will under no conditions permit it to pass through any territory over which she has control. there is no speedier way of drawing truthful political opinions from a mixed company of various nationalities than to design fancy railroads over tender territories. at present no line exists in the balkan peninsula that runs from north-east to south-west. and in the present disgraceful state of all territory that is under turkish "government" no new lines through any of the sultan's property are probable. the love of the montenegrin for nikshitje is based partly on sentimental grounds; for the taking of nikshitje, the biggest turkish stronghold on their northern frontier, was one of the chief events of the last war. nikshitje fell in 1877, after a four months' siege conducted by prince nikola himself. that the prince really intends nikshitje to be the capital of his country is evident. we have a forecast of its coming splendour in the large and really fine church dedicated to st. vasili, which stands well placed on a little hill, close by a solid and well-proportioned building, designed with a stern simplicity well in keeping with the montenegrin spirit. within, it is lofty and spacious, and the bare stone walls are hung with lists of those who fell in the last war. russia found the money, and montenegro the labour. the mouldings and capitals are all cut by montenegrins, and the engineer that built it is a montenegrin. nikshitje has a right to be proud of it. at the foot of the hill on which the new church stands is a tiny little old church, the church of the montenegrins in turkish times. in those dark days it was almost completely buried under the earth for safety. now, with the addition of a fat new tower, it shows itself in the light of day. the battered ruins of the great turkish fort that was once a thorn in montenegro's side stand on the long low hill that overlooks the town, and a stone or two with turkish inscriptions and a few turkish guns upon the grass are all that tell of its former holders. whatever the future may have in store for the montenegrins, let us hope that it will always be remembered to their credit that they have played an heroic part in the freeing of europe from the ottoman curse. a tumbledown mosque and some dozen mohammedan albanian families are now the only traces left in nikshitje of the asiatic invader. beyond the town, the land is well cultivated, and maize, tobacco, rye, and potatoes flourish, provided there is sufficient rainfall in the summer. montenegro at present needs, more than anything, some system of water storage. a superfluity of rain falls in the wet seasons, and the melted snow swells the streams to torrents, but this all flows away for lack of dams or cisterns, and in a spell of hot weather the ground is parched. in the summer of 1902 no drop of rain fell between the middle of may and the beginning of september; there was no corn for food, and no tobacco for export. the people in the mountains, who depend on the plains for corn, were in terrible straits, were reduced to eating fern, grass, and beech bark, and were only saved from starvation by buying foreign maize with the money that had been intended for road-making and other public works. while nikshitje, the capital that is to be, is slowly growing, dukle (dioclea), the capital that was, the birthplace of the line of nemanja kings who led servia to greatness, is slowly mouldering on the plain of podgoritza. long prior to servian days dukle was known to the world. already in the early years of the christian era the romans had conquered illyria and organised it as a roman province, and dioclea, as it was then called, has come down to fame as the reputed birthplace of diocletian. some two and a half miles from podgoritza, where zeta and moracha meet, lies all that is left of the old town. "the parents of diocletian," says gibbon, "had been slaves in the house of anulinus, a roman senator; nor was he himself distinguished by any other name than that which he derived from a small town in dalmatia from whence his mother deduced her origin." whether dukle is or is not the "small town in dalmatia," i cannot tell. it is, at any rate, known to be among the first towns taken from the illyrians by the romans. it would be interesting to learn whether it is not to a considerable intermixture of the aboriginal illyrian blood that the montenegrins owe their superiority to the other serbs. some theory is required to account for it, and as the strength of the servian empire arose from this particular corner, and as the albanians, their next-door neighbours, are believed to be direct descendants of these same illyrians, this seems to be the most workable one. there is a certain indefinable quality best described as "gameness," and this both albanians and montenegrins possess to a marked degree. it is also the quality of the herzegovinese, who are mountain men too, and it was in the mountains, we are told, that the aboriginal inhabitants lived after the servian invasion. be this as it may, dukle, by podgoritza, was a roman town of some size, and was afterwards the capital of the early kingdom of servia. it is a forlorn, lonesome, "sic transit" spot, inhabited by numbers of tortoises peering about with their aged, old-world little faces and wrinkled, leathery necks. tesseræ work up through the turf, fine cornices and mouldings lie about among the brambles, and the live green acanthus flourishes near the stony leaves of big corinthian capitals. one slab-paved road remains, all that is left of what appears to have been a forum, some fifty yards long, with the bases of columns strewn along it at intervals, and at the farther end of it the remains of a small building with a round apse. a man lives in a hut hard by and cultivates a few patches of ground among the ruins, which are so smothered in vegetation that it is difficult to form any good idea of the plan of the town. it was explored about ten years ago by some archæologists, but there is probably a good deal yet to be found, as the peasants still pick up many coins and odds and ends of bronze work. the remains of a small basilica church have been dug out, whose broken shafts and bits of marble chancel rails are strewn on the ground, and tesseræ are plentiful among the grass. the marble remains of the forum and many of the cornices and mouldings that are scattered about the ruins are roman, but a large proportion of the houses, the foundations of which cover several acres, are, i believe, of a later date, and may belong to the old servian town. a bas-relief of diana--a mediocre enough specimen of art--lies among the bushes on a bank, gaining a strange pathos from her surroundings, as she stares with stony eyes, the only survivor of the dead capital. all around stand the everlasting hills, keeping majestic watch over the ruins which have seen the passing of two empires, and the river tears along through a stony chasm hard by, and the lean rugged figures of the one or two peasants among the ruins only add to the loneliness. but this place was once the centre of such learning and civilisation as the land possessed, and "the monk of dioclea" was one of servia's earliest chroniclers. the now almost forgotten town is marked in the map of ptolemy (_circa_ 150 a.d.). it is mentioned as a famous town in 1162, and it was given by king milutin as the residence for his son in 1317. after this date little or nothing is heard of it, nor is it known when finally it ceased to be inhabited and crumbled into decay. chapter v our lady among the rocks "to drawe folk to heaven by fairnesse by good ensample, this was his busynesse. for christe's lawe and his apostles twelve he taught, but first he followed it himself." a rough jolt over the wide bare plain; a heavy rainstorm blurring the bleak mountains of the turkish frontier; no living being in sight save an albanian woman with her few sheep cowering under the lee of a bush; cut off from the rest of the world by the enshrouding mist, we drove over one of the desolate places of the earth in quest of the little church among the rocks. of a sudden the sun burst through, hot and brilliant; the plain quivered, golden and glittering, through the rising steam; the clouds parted and rolled back, and revealed the mountains all around us, fiercely, vividly blue, and as lonely as the day they were created. two small rocky hills rose up out of the plain, and our driver pulled up suddenly. "you must go on foot," he said; "it is not far," and he pointed to a stony track round the hillside. doubtfully we started among the rocks and wild pomegranates, till turning a corner we struck a well-marked footpath, and saw the tall black-robed figure of our friend awaiting us at the top of the ascent. "i saw a carriage across the plain," he said, as he came forward, "and i knew it must be you." he welcomed us cordially, and turned towards his little domain. a bare stone wall built up against the hillside with a big wooden cross at the top, and a tiny cottage with a patch of cultivated ground close by, were all that could be seen of it. all around were wild and untouched rock and bush. "my little church," he said, as he led the way to the entrance, "was not built by hands. it was made by god. his church among the rocks." he crossed himself, and we entered. he lit a taper and held it aloft. we were in a long narrow cavern, water-worn, with traces of stalactite deposit on the rough walls. at the farther end the altar candles burned brightly, lighting up the picture of our lady over it, and making the rest of the cave darker by contrast. "see," he said, "it is veritably a church! is it not in the form of a cross?" and he showed us how a smaller cave opened into it on either side, making a rude nave and transept. the walls at the chancel end were painted with saints and angels, quaint and stiff, their archaic byzantine forms in perfect keeping with the rough surroundings, and therefore true decoration. "when i have celebrated the messe here," he continued, "when i have prayed all alone in the silence, then holy things come to me, pictures, vous savez, and i paint them here upon the wall." he held up his taper and threw light upon a great head of christ. "this is the last i have made. there is no paint left," he added simply. "nor do i know really which is the proper way to use it. i cannot, i think, take long to learn. my poor attempts, they give pleasure to my people, and they understand." he led the way into the tiny transept on the left. "here, you see, i have made for them the holy sepulchre"; and we saw by the light of the little taper a bier covered with a black and gold cloth, and a painting of the dead christ. "they come to me, the poor wayfarers, for consolation, so weary, so suffering. i tell them of him. i bring them in here and i show them the wounds on his feet. then they understand. so i can teach them. to help the afflicted, that is religion. some days i write, songs of religion, of the visions that i see; for the light that is given to us we must employ to show the path toothers." he looked inspired as he stood there, a majestic black-robed figure, the taper, like a guiding star, in his hands, the light of the altar candles falling on his finely cut spiritual features, the solitary sentinel of this christian outpost. "the church of god, built by his hands in the wilderness; to care for it is all my life," he said humbly. he extinguished the lights, and we stepped out into the sunshine. by the side of the church he pointed out a second cavern in which rises a clear spring of water, the same, maybe, which carved the nave and transepts. it makes the hermitage possible in this otherwise waterless spot, and flows off underground to hew its way silently through the rock. we turned to say good-bye to him. "but no!" he cried, "you have come so far to see me, i beg you will rest for a while in my house. when shall i again see visitors from england?" he led the way into his cottage; visitors, not only from england but from the outside world at all, are scarce with him. i think we called to his mind a whole host of recollections; for he started at once, and the time flew as he unfolded the story of his life in little sentences, earnestly and quickly, from time to time drawing his black gown across his breast with a swift dramatic action that gave point to his speech. he had been educated in a russian university, and thence had gone to paris. he regretted not having visited london. "it seemed so far," he said; "now it seems that i was so near!" but all the time the mountains called to him. "i cannot live away from the mountains and my poor montenegrins. in the great towns, it was here that i wished to be. i intended to come here and to make a large monastery. but my family did not wish me to lead the religious life. my grandfather was a rich man--not what in england you would call rich, but rich in montenegro. when i became religious, he gave me none of the money, not any. i have not been able to carry out my plan. it was god's will. my work is here. it is to help my poor montenegrins to keep their faith. without faith what is a nation? ah! i have travelled and i have seen sad things. but in your country, mademoiselle, they have faith. the church of england and our church, they have differences, that is true, but they are slight. we are all christians; there are so many points upon which we can agree. we must not let those others separate us. your church has shown great friendship to ours. your archbishop has sent us a letter not long ago. it has given great pleasure. your church is a church; you have deacons, bishops; but in switzerland--the protestants--that i cannot understand. it is sad. "savez-vous," he went on, "i know what a war is. i was a soldier in our last war. we are all soldiers here, you see." "where were you?" i asked. "it was in the valley of the zeta--the turks came down." he stared wide-eyed at a vision of horror and broke off. "it is too horrible to speak of--these scenes; it is all horrible in war. i have seen it. pray god that we shall have peace. but a day of trial is coming to my poor montenegrins. ah, mademoiselle, you understand them. they are so uncivilised and so rough, but they are so good, so simple. you, who travel among them, know how good they are. you will tell them in england--will you not?--of my poor people. civilisation brings knowledge and many, many wonders, but it does not bring happiness. these poor good people, they have no idea what life is out in the great world, and it is coming to them. and i know what it means, this civilisation. i have lived in paris--in paris, savez-vous," he said vehemently. "all i can do is to help them to keep their faith. till now they have lived with god and the mountains. here they come to me, the poor, the afflicted, they come to me for help. some nights i give shelter to as many as fifteen wayfarers. then they tell me their troubles, and i pray with them. some of them," he admitted regretfully, "have not lived quite rightly. in the morning i celebrate the messe in my little chapel, and then they go on their way comforted. on sundays many people come, and i speak to them, here before the chapel, the words that are given to me. it is very little that one needs in this life. we have so short a time here." a boy, his pupil and his only companion in his hermitage, came in with coffee, and the giving and the accepting of this simple refreshment seemed to give our host great pleasure. he questioned us about our relatives, and told us of his own. "once," he remarked quite casually, "i was married," but he did not pursue the subject. he told us of the days when there were only twenty houses in cetinje--when the chiefs of the land used to meet in council with the prince, all sitting on the ground in a bare shed where a sheep was roasting for their dinner; how the prince used to sit under a tree and try prisoners; how there were no roads, no towns, only a few collections of thatched huts. all this only twenty years ago! the poetic, imaginative nature of the montenegrin. "he lives with the things he imagines. even now, you see how he carries his gun, his revolver, his knife! he likes to think that he is guarding his house and his land. the weapons are a symbol to him. no montenegrin likes to go unarmed. in the evening, when he returns to his little cottage, his wife meets him. she takes his gun and puts it in the corner. his weapons are laid aside. it is all peace; he is returned to his wife and children. that is old life. now it is even said that a railway will be made. but who knows? where can there be money for such an undertaking?" truly railway companies and all such things seemed impossibly remote as we sat in this lonely hermitage listening to the hopes and fears of the ascetic visionary. when we arose to say good-bye, he stood over us in the doorway and gave us his blessing. we stepped out into the world again, and looked over the rough moorland plain. the turkish frontier fort shone white upon the mountain side some three miles away, and there was no other sign of life as we stared over the lonely land. he read our thoughts at once. "it is a wild spot, yes, and a rough journey that you have made to see me. few strangers have yet been here. one day three of your countrymen came, but you are the first englishwomen. it is lonely, and even a little dangerous. you must not try to cross the plain when it is dark, for there are bad men who rob and kill. yonder, that is albania. it is so easy for them to come across. even last night there were armed men; they came up towards my little house and they threatened me with their guns." "and what did you do?" we asked eagerly. "i stood here," he said simply, "and i cried to them, 'the lord god has said, thou shalt not kill.' then they went away," he added, after a pause, in a matter-of-fact manner. what a scene! the fearless figure alone under the night sky, and the gang of human beasts shrinking awestruck down the rocks as they heard out of the darkness "the voice of one crying in the wilderness." we said farewell. he stood at the top of the path for a few minutes watching our descent, and as we turned the corner we saw his tall dark figure turning towards the little chapel "which is his life." chapter vi antivari antivari is not easily reached from cetinje. you can retreat to cattaro and then take the weekly steamer. if, however, you have come to montenegro to see montenegro, it is better to choose the cross-country route. i have been there more than once, but the first journey thither will suffice. we were raw to the country and knew nothing of the language, so everyone tried to persuade us not to go, or at any rate to take an interpreter. but unless a route is so complicated that a guide is absolutely necessary, i infinitely prefer worrying it out alone; and as for languages, everyone knows that one wants food, drink, and sleep. the only precautions we took were to ascertain that there was an "inn with three beds" at prstan, the port for antivari, and to get the hotel to telegraph for a couple of horses to meet us at virbazar, and we started from rijeka in the early morning, by steamer. arrived off virbazar, we clambered down into a large canoe, along with sixteen montenegrins, to whom we were a deeply interesting sight, and proceeded very slowly up the river, for the boat was heavily laden with freight and passengers. neither montenegrins nor albanians have much idea of paddling their own canoes. they merely stab and prod the water at irregular intervals with wooden shovels, expending a good deal of energy with very little result; but they wobble along somehow. we speculated anxiously as to what we should do if the horses had not turned up, and were much relieved to see a respectable pair of steeds on the bank. virbazar is a tiny village on an island on the river, and has no particular features save its bridge. this is a singular structure. it is built of stone, but is so narrow that it is only passable by foot passengers single file. even if wide enough, though, vehicles would find a difficulty in tackling it, for it changes its style of architecture abruptly in the middle, and, having begun well and loftily, drops suddenly and proceeds to the farther bank with smaller arches and a narrower path at a much lower level. whether rival architects started from opposite sides, or whether one-half is a "restoration" of the other, and if so which, i do not know. i think, however, it must have been evolved by turks. we picked our way across it, attended of course by a fair proportion of the population, and made our way towards the horses. the population objected strongly to our claiming them, but as we persisted, someone had the sense to go and fetch the horse-boy. he, a swarthy albanian--a wiry, cheerful thing about twenty--produced from the recesses of his garments our telegram. this was read aloud, everyone was satisfied, our mysterious appearance was explained, and the "two good horses" were led up on to the high road. in montenegro one must always ride astride. of course it would be possible to take a side-saddle, but i do not think it would be any advantage. the horses are not accustomed to it, and the mountain tracks are very bad. it is much easier to balance on a scrambling horse when astride; it is possible to dismount in a hurry on either side, and it is far less tiring for a very long day's ride, both to horse and rider. there is a very good carriage road to antivari, but no carriages to go on it. the only diligence runs once a week; sometimes it fits the boat, and sometimes it doesn't. there is a bridle path which is a short cut, but is so rough that a good deal of it must be done on foot. the road winds up the crmnitza valley--green, rich, and fertile, a land of vines, maize, and tobacco. higher up, the mountain sides are well wooded. at the top of the pass the scenery is superb. there is always a strange fascination about the top of a pass. when once it is reached there seems to be no limit set to our wanderings; we enter a new land, and plunge into the beyond--the beyond that is ever a-calling. the top of the crmnitza valley is crowned by the ruins of a turkish fort; twenty-five years ago this was turkish territory, and our horse-boy was a son of the conquered soil. he was a mohammedan albanian, and seemed to think he had got a most amusing job. he made the most violent efforts to talk to us, roared with laughter when we did not understand, and poured out torrents of conversation when we did. we plunged down the old bridle track, and scrambled over rocks and bushes along the mountain side. at one point he stopped us and treated us to an amusingly realistic pantomime of cutting off heads and throwing bodies down the rocks. it was a pity we had not command of his language, for this pathless, rugged hillside, with the battered remains of another turkish fortress on the shoulder below us, was a fine background for a gory tale. far away below us, beyond the silver-grey olives on the slopes and the fertile plain, gleamed the blue adriatic; a few cottages clustered on the edge of the bay, and the road led straight to them. "prstan!" said the boy, and we thought we were nearly there; but there were weary zigzags before we reined up our tired beasts in the waning light by the edge of the sea. a gipsy camp, a post-office, half a dozen dilapidated cottages, a harbour about the size of a pocket-handkerchief, the prince's country house, and a lonely beach where the waves splashed--this was prstan, and the farthest and smallest of the cottages was the "inn with the three beds." the beds are all in the same room, which is also the dining-room, and there is nothing of the stiff conventionality about the establishment that one finds in a hotel starred by bædeker, but all is clean and the food is excellent, and maria bulatovich, the kindly hostess, speaks italian. we started betimes next morning to see antivari. the local coffee stall--a packing-case set up on end with an albanian coiled up inside it--was doing a roaring trade, and the gipsy camp hard by was getting up and shaking itself. antivari lies some three miles inland. you don't see it till you are nearly arrived, as it is stowed away between two great mountain spurs. the road twists and twines through magnificent olive gardens, where huge hoary giants sprawl in a thousand grotesque shapes; you turn a corner, suddenly antivari appears, and the first sight of it is very startling. on a rocky eminence in the midst of the hollow stands gaunt and grim the dismantled turkish town--battlements, walls, roofless houses and shattered churches--just as it was left after the war, a terrible relic, the grey bones of a city mouldering under the sun and sky, like a gibbeted felon. we climbed up the steep street of the modern bazaar, with its cranky little wooden shops and gay albanian inhabitants, to the big gateway of the old town. a sentinel is always on guard here, but in response to the magic word "engleske" he smilingly passed us in. it is a dead, creepy, ghostly city, strangled and throttled with a tangle of vines and brambles which rend the walls and wreathe door and arch. a forest of fig trees and cherry plums run riot in room and court, and find root-hole on the topmost battlements. grass grows knee-high in streets that, even now, are thickly strewn with rusty fragments of shells; beautiful pieces of mouldings and a window or two tell of the old town of the venetians, and the remains of fresco still fade and crumble on the church walls. man has departed, and nature has stepped in, and is surely and silently finishing the work of destruction. we wandered for an hour in this ghostly spot, looking over the battlements, a sheer drop into the valley below, wrestling with the vegetation, and haunted by a feeling that in spite of the blue sky and sunshine none of it was real. [illustration: ruins of antivari.] antivari fell in january 1878, after a long siege. the defenders made a gallant resistance, and, when forced to surrender, laid a train to the powder magazine. prince nikola had a very narrow escape from the ensuing explosion, and the already shattered city was ruined beyond the possibility of repair. antivari is marked on the map, but one's first impression of it is that there is now no such place, so scattered are the houses and so scanty the population. yet it speaks three languages--turkish, servian, and albanian; is divided by three religions--mohammedan, orthodox, and roman catholic; and has a roman catholic archbishop all to itself. the bishopric is a very old one, established originally at dioclea, but transferred to antivari, some say as early as the tenth century. antivari was venetian till 1479, and the flock must then have been a large one; now it is reduced to some six hundred souls, all albanian. at least, so they call themselves. but just as every mohammedan tells you he is a "turk," and every one of the orthodox that he is a montenegrin, so does every roman catholic say that he is an albanian; and three men who in feature, complexion, and build are as alike as three individuals can well be, will all swear, and really believe, that they all belong to different races. it is not improbable that they are a blend of all three. most of the inhabitants are mohammedan. the district is but thinly populated, and is said to be fever-stricken. down below on the plain, among the scattered houses, are the ruins of the konak of the former turkish pasha, selim beg, whose tyranny is still fresh in the minds of the people. the christians especially were his victims, and many are the tales of the tortures he inflicted. to one unfortunate man he gave a thousand blows upon the soles of the feet when antivari fell, selim beg, who was as cowardly as he was cruel, fled in terror to hide himself from the victorious montenegrins. fate so ordained that he rushed for shelter to the house of this same tortured christian. terror--stricken, selim recognised his former victim, and abjectly begged for mercy, and the man to whom he had shown none threw himself on his knees before the crucifix and in an ecstasy poured forth his thanks to the lord, who had thus permitted him to witness the humiliation of his enemy. "he hath thrown down the mighty from their seats, and exalted them of low degree." he spared the life of his torturer, and selim beg, after making a servile attempt to gain the friendship of prince nikola, retired to corfu, where, according to my informant, he died "like the beast that he was." this curiously dramatic tale, the truth of which is, i believe, undisputed, throws a strong light upon the albanian and the sanctity of the "guest"--the man who begs shelter. we returned to prstan and maria's hospitable roof, and all further explorations in the afternoon were put a stop to by the weather. in rushed maria and shut and barred the door, for the wind was hurling the rain in sheets against the cottage, and we sat in semi-darkness, lit up now and then by a blaze of lightning. suddenly there came a loud knocking at the door. i grappled with the iron bar, dragged it back with difficulty, and admitted a tall old montenegrin, whose wet coat, dripping pony, and travelling-bag showed he had come to stay. his amazement at seeing us was quite funny. i thought of the third bed and my heart sank. but maria transferred herself to the kitchen, and gave up her room to the new-comer. it was evident from her excitement that she considered him to be of great importance. he was, in fact, a relative of the prince. we had a gay dinner that night. the little austrian vice-consul, who was a hungarian, turned up, and the old montenegrin was resplendent in his best clothes, for he was going to the palace that evening. he was a tall, thin, handsome man, with a most kindly face and exquisite manners, and was painfully anxious that we should have the best of everything the resources of the place could supply. he told us (the hungarian translating) that he had met two english ladies once before, in 1865! it was a very long journey, he wondered how we had dared to come. when once in montenegro everyone was safe--but travelling through all the other countries! the english, he had been told, wanted to see and know everything; they travelled everywhere. it must be a very expensive habit! it had perhaps cost us one hundred florins (about £8) to come this distance. we admitted that it had, and he seemed overcome by the amount. "and it takes not only money but _time_" said my companion. he laughed merrily. "time! what is time? time is nothing. you live, and then you die." the idea of reckoning "time" tickled him vastly. "time," said the hungarian, to show his superior knowledge, "is thought very much of by the english. i have been told that they have a proverb which says 'time is money.'" we corroborated this report--to the astonishment of both men, for even the hungarian thought this was going rather far. the montenegrin thought it one of the wildest statements he had ever met with, and shook his puzzled head, but his kindly eyes twinkled with fun. i think i see him now as he wished us good-night--a resplendent figure in his green embroidered coat, his crimson and gold waistcoat, his dark blue knickerbockers, white gaiters and new sandals, bowing himself backwards through the little door with simple dignity, his tall lean form slightly bent by age--a splendid type of the montenegrin of the old regime. i had a strange feeling of having known him years ago. as he passed from the room i recognised, with a sudden illuminating flash, chaucer's "a knyghte there was and that a worthy man that from the time that he first began to riden out, he loved chivalrie, truth and honoure, freedom and courtesie. full worthie was he in his lordes warre.... he was a very perfect gentle knyghte," etc. and had he not too "fought often for his faith" against "a hethen in turkeye"? the truth of the mediæval picture charmed me, and the knight armed with a white cotton umbrella went off in a shandrydan to pay his respects at the palace on the beach. the weather never cleared, so we saw no more of antivari that time. blinding torrential rain and fierce blasts of wind crashed on the cottage walls. the fat frogs in the pond sat up, and their hoarse shouts, "brek-kek-kek-kek-koax-koax," resounded in every lull of the storm. we waited for the only diligence, and returned by it to virbazar, and had as travelling companion our old friend of the inn, who, to our distress, would persist in occupying the small seat back to the horses, and was miserably uncomfortable in consequence. at last neither of us dared stir, as the slightest movement on our part brought an apology for the inconvenience he was sure he was causing us. to make up for this, he tried to tell us all about the road as we went along, though speaking italian was a great labour to him. he had taken part in the siege of antivari. "ah!" he said, "that was terrible. all those weeks. and in the winter. they are brave men, the turks." he pointed down the valley where, through rifts in the mist, we could see the stream. "the austrian frontier," he said sadly. "austrian. and we gave our blood for that land. it was ours. and they took it from us. they gave it to austria. i do not understand it." i do not think that the affairs of the outer world entered into his head at all. montenegro and abstract justice were all he wanted. russia was a distant providence who would assist the right to prevail. but the wheels within wheels and the shuffling of international politics were a mystery to his primitive, honest soul. there were many things that puzzled him. we passed a village. "this is all mohammedan," he said. "there is a mosque below. we have built them a school. it is a good school, but they will not go to it. they say they do not care for education! they are strange people, these albanians!" he sighed and shook his head. he looked on the village school as the first step on the path of sweetness and light. i had a vision of the board school child, the "penny dreadful," and the novelette with a paper pattern of the last new sleeve included. i think he was double my age, but he made me feel very old. we passed a school; the sun had come out at last, and the playground was full of sturdy young montenegrins. he smiled at them with pleasure, and i was glad to think that he cannot survive long enough to have his dream of enlightened montenegro shattered. he said good-bye to us not long after, and we saw the last of him as he entered his modest little house on the mountain side. the remainder of the drive did not take long. we were soon in virbazar, and once again a cause of local excitement. by the help of a man who spoke a little german, we were made to understand that we could go for nothing in the common boat to the steamer, but that for a florin we could have a very good one all to ourselves. it would have been too unkind to disappoint them, and we were such rare birds! we delighted every one by accepting the offer of a private boat. when the boat was ready, we did not feel quite so pleased. it was a canoe with two bent-wood chairs arranged in it as a sort of throne at one end, and looked remarkably topheavy. the crew, two tall youths and a boy, were in great glee at having secured such a job, and conducted us to our seats with much ceremony before a large crowd. off we pushed, and made a lordly, if somewhat wobbly progress down stream. all went well till we were suddenly aroused by the steamers hooter. then our crew were seized with a wild and irresistible desire to make a rapid, showy finish to the voyage. "really," said my friend, "it requires all my faith in montenegrins to feel safe." the words were scarcely out of her mouth when round swung the canoe in response to a violent stroke of the paddle, and out she shot, chair and all, as if from a catapult. i hadn't even time to grab at her. a vision of grey skirts, a splash, and she was gone! "well, never mind; she can swim," thought i, as the waters closed over her. the next instant i had to hurl myself almost over the other side, to right the boat, as the two men, completely scared, both leaned out at once, and as nearly as possible capsized the whole thing. the boy came to my side, the men perceived that the foreign lady was not going to drown, and the panic passed over. their idea of helping her in was remarkable--they grasped large handfuls and tugged. i believe they pulled her in by one leg. the misery and dismay on their faces when she at last stood up in the boat dripping and streaming were so unutterably funny that we both roared with laughter. they were greatly relieved at this, but most anxious to make her look respectable before going on board the steamer, and wrung her out with such vigour and muscle that i thought she would come to pieces. then having picked up the chair and hat, they paddled in a subdued and gingerly manner to the steamboat, were shy about accepting the florin, and thanked for it repeatedly. the captain, when he learned our plight, laughed as though he would never stop, and put the one cabin and a bucket at our disposal. we improvised a costume out of two nightgowns, a waterproof, and a brush-and-comb bag, poured olive oil into her watch and brandy into her, and although it rained all the rest of the way back to cetinje no evil results ensued to either of them. but the episode has become a legend of the lake, and two years after i heard an albanian retailing it to an interested audience. the point of the story was the extreme cold-bloodedness of the english, as shown by the heartless way i laughed at my friend's misfortune! chapter vii of the north albanian "the wild ass, whose house i have made the wilderness, and the barren land his dwellings. he scorneth the multitude of the city, neither regardeth he the crying of the driver." the difficulty of the "eastern question," as it is called, lies in the fact that it is not "a" question at all but a mass of questions, the answering of any one of which makes all the others harder of solution. of all these, the albanian question is the hardest to solve, and has not as yet received the attention that it calls for and will shortly compel. few people in the west--none, i might almost say, who have not been to albania--can realise that to-day in europe there lives a whole race, a primeval lot of raw human beings, in a land that is not only almost entirely without carriageable roads, but in which in many cases the only tracks are even too bad for riding, the conditions of life are those of prehistoric barbarism, and the mass of the people have barely even attained a mediæval stage of civilisation. when the albanian arrived in europe none knows, and authorities differ as to his possible relationships with other people, but there is no i manner of doubt that he is the direct descendant of the wild tribes that were in the balkan peninsula before the greeks and before the romans, and have been variously described as thracians, macedonians, and illyrians, according to the part they inhabited. they are described as having been fierce fighters and very wild, and they furnished rome with some of her best soldiers. nor were they lacking in brain power; men of barbarian balkan blood arose who ruled their conquerors and provided the roman empire with a list of emperors that includes diocletian and constantine the great. empires have risen and empires have passed away, and the albanian has remained the same wild thing. the might of rome waned; the servian, the venetian, and the ottoman have followed in turn. "annexed" but never subdued, the albanian merely retired to the fastnesses of the mountains and followed the devices of his own heart, regardless of his so-called ruler. the albanian of to-day is nominally under turkish rule, but nominally only. the albanian's position with regard to turkey is a very peculiar one. the turk, so his friends tell us, has many admirable qualities, but even those who love him best do not pretend that he has ever attempted to civilise, cultivate, or in any way improve the condition of, his subject races. under the turk all development is arrested, and nothing ripens. the albanian, for the most part, remains at the point where he had arrived when the turk found him, and except that he has adopted the revolver and breechloading rifle, he has not advanced an inch. he is the survival of a past that is dead and forgotten in west europe. his language has troubled philologists considerably. it is a soft, not unpleasant-sounding tongue, full of double "shshshes" and queer consonant sounds; such queer ones that it fits no known alphabet, and he has never found out how to write it down. quite recently several attempts have been made, mostly by foreigners, to tame this wild language to an alphabet, and three or four different systems have been evolved, all more or less unsatisfactory, as no alphabet unaided can cope with its peculiar sounds. one in which roman letters are used and plentifully strewn with accents, both above and below, is the most favoured in north albania, but the turk does not allow albanian as a school language, the mass of the people speak nothing else, and albania remains a land without a literature, without a history, without even a daily paper. to possess and use an unwritten language in europe in the twentieth century is no mean feat it carries one back to remote prehistoric times, confronts one with blank unwritten days, and suggests forcibly that the albanian is probably possessed of raw primeval and perhaps better-left-unwritten ideas. our search for the live antique cannot take us much further. but the albanians, in spite of their antiquity, are incredibly young as a people, and blankly ignorant of the outer world. they are still in the earliest stage of a nation's life history, and have not yet advanced beyond the tribal form of life. at an early date--some say as early as the fourth century, but this seems doubtful--the albanians became christian. i have failed to discover what man or men succeeded in thus powerfully influencing this very conservative people. it is a remarkable fact that, though all the other christians of the balkans early declared for the eastern church and all the pope's efforts to reclaim them failed, the christian albanians of the north have remained faithfully roman catholic. the mountains of albania, like those of montenegro, are a series of natural fastnesses, among which a small army of attack is massacred and a large one starves. moreover, a large part of the land was not worth the expense of taking. the tribes were exceedingly ferocious, and would have taken a great deal of conquering, but as they had no leader under whom they could combine and make organised attacks, they were not the danger to the turks that the montenegrins were. moreover, the fact that they belonged to the western and not to the eastern church prevented them from making common cause with the other christian peoples. once and once only were they on the point of obtaining recognised national existence, and this was under the leadership of the great skender beg. but skender beg died in 1467, and as yet no one has arisen capable of welding the semi-independent tribes into a solid whole. the turks purchase peace from them by leaving them to do as they please among their mountains. the albanians purchase privileges from the turks by fighting for them and supplying the turkish army, as they did formerly the roman, with some of its best soldiers. and albania to-day remains separated into a number of distinct tribes, which are governed by their own chieftains according to unwritten laws which have been handed down orally from a very remote past. the turkish "government" has practically no say in the matter. at any rate, what it says it has not the power to enforce. the albanian is ignorant and untrained, but he is no fool. his one ruling idea has been to go on being albanian in the manner of his fathers. he perceived quickly all the points that would enable him to do so, and he seized upon them. the mountain people in the more inaccessible parts retained their christianity. the albanians who swooped upon the plains vacated by the serbs found it greatly to their advantage to profess mohammedanism, and both mohammedan and roman catholic were ready to make common cause against the christians of the eastern church. so indispensable have the albanians made themselves to the turkish government that it has been forced to concede to them every license, lest it should lose their support. far from making any attempt at civilising them, it has never scrupled to make use of their savagery in warfare, and in warfare the albanian can be exceedingly savage. never from the beginning of time has he been taught anything that the western world thinks necessary; never in the majority of cases has the most rudimentary education come his way. his mohammedanism and his christianity he practises in an original and albanian manner, and in his heart he is influenced mainly by traditional beliefs and superstitions which are probably far older than either. he purchased his freedom by making himself useful to the turk, and the turk has left him in the lowest depths of barbarism. the only schools that exist in the land are those of the italian and austrian frati, and such civilisation as the albanian possesses he owes to the labours of these devoted men. as for travelling and means of communication, it seems probable that the roads to-day are far inferior to what they were in the time of the romans. and this is the land of the only one of her subject races with which turkey has been "friends." the deplorable state of albania is an even stronger indictment against turkish "government" than that of macedonia. to-day the country is practically in a state of anarchy. little or nothing is done in the way of cultivation; blood-feuds rage, and men are shot for quarrels that are family inheritances and originated for long-forgotten reasons in the dark ages. human life is cheap, very cheap. an ordinary englishman has more scruples about killing a cat than an albanian has about shooting a man. indeed, the albanian has many of the physical attributes of a beast of prey. a lean, wiry thing, all tough sinew and as supple as a panther, he moves with a long, easy stride, quite silently, for his feet are shod with pliant leathern sandals with which he grips the rock as he climbs. he is heavily armed, and as he goes his keen eyes watch ceaselessly for the foe he is always expecting to meet. there is nothing more characteristic of the up-country tribesman than those ever-searching eyes. i have met him many a time in the montenegrin markets, in the weekly bazaar in his capital, and on the prowl with his rifle far in the country. up hill or down hill, over paths that are more like dry torrent beds, it is all the same to him; he keeps an even, swift pace, and he watches all the time. dressed as he is, in tightly-fitting striped leg-gear and in a short black cape, his appearance is extraordinarily mediæval, and he seems to have stepped straight out of a florentine fresco. his sash is full of silver-mounted weapons, he twists his tawny-moustache, and he admires himself exceedingly. he walks with a long rolling stride, planting his feet quite flat like a camel or an elephant--a gait which gives him an oddly animal appearance. his boldly striped garments, with their lines and zigzags of black embroidery, recall the markings of the tiger, the zebra, and sundry venomous snakes and insects. he seems to obey the laws that govern the markings of ferocious beasts; his swift, silent footsteps enhance the resemblance, and his colouring is protective; he disappears completely into a rocky background. the black patterns vary according to the tribe he hails from. if you ask his name, he generally gives you his tribal one as well, and points over the mountains towards his district. he is so-and-so, for instance, of the hotti or the shoshi. most men, whether christian or mohammedan, have their heads shaven; sometimes on the temples only, the rest of the hair standing out in a great bush; sometimes the entire head, with the exception of one long lock that dangles down the back. there are two distinct types of albanians--a dark type with black hair, brown eyes, and clean-cut features, and a very fair type, grey or blue-eyed, taller and more powerfully built. to this class belong almost all the shaven-headed men with the dangling locks, a row of whom, squatting on their heels, look remarkably like a lot of half-moulted vultures. according to popular belief, the long lock is to serve as a handle to carry home the head when severed. a head, it seems, can be carried only by the ear, or by inserting a finger in the mouth, and this latter practice the owner of the head, when alive, objects to! but in spite of his wild-beast appearance and his many obvious faults, the albanian is by no means all bad. i will almost say that he possesses the instincts of a gentleman. at any rate, he "plays fair," according to his own very peculiar creed. he boasts that he has never betrayed a friend nor spared a foe. it is true that "not sparing" includes torture and various and most horrible atrocities, but it is a great mistake in considering any of the balkan peoples to make too much capital out of "atrocities." a century ago every race, including our own, considered the infliction of hideous suffering the legitimate way of punishing comparatively small crimes. at the risk of being laughed at, i will say that i do not believe the albanian is by nature cruel. the life of the poor up-country peasant is hard and rough beyond what anyone who has only lived in a civilised country can realise, and the life of such a man's beasts is of necessity a hard one also. but though i have met him with his flocks on the hillsides and have watched him carefully in street and market, i have never seen the albanian torturing an animal for the fun of the thing, as does the neapolitan, the provençal, and the spaniard. the revolting "jokes" with lame and helpless animals which can be seen any day in the streets of naples are not to be met with in the capital of the bloodthirsty albanian. [illustration: mountain albanians in market, podgoritza.] i have trusted the albanian somewhat recklessly, i have been told; i have given him plenty of chances of robbing me, and several of making away with me altogether; but he has always treated me with a fine courtesy, and has never taken a mean advantage. he is a brave man, and he is an intelligent man. when he gets the chance, he learns quickly and picks up foreign languages speedily. and when he succeeds in leaving his native land and escaping the awful blight of the ottoman, he often shows great business capacity, and a surprising power of adapting himself to circumstances. the ordinary christian albanian of the town is very different from the up-country savage, and is a pathetically childish person. he tries very hard to be civilised, but his ideas on the subject are vague. how far he is from understanding the prejudices of the twentieth century the following conversation will show. it is one of many similar. i was walking up the steep, cobble-stony bazaar-street of antivari late one afternoon in the summer of 1902. the shop owners stood at their doors to see me pass. presently a man came forward, a tall, fair, grey-eyed fellow. he spoke very politely in a mishmash of servian and italian. "i have never seen a foreign woman before," he said, "will you come into my shop and talk to me?" i followed him into his shop. as i was unmistakably from the west, he gave me a tiny box to sit on, and then squatted neatly on the ground himself, called for coffee, and started conversation. he was amazed at my nationality, and showed me some cotton labelled "best hard yarn" among his goods. otherwise "england" conveyed no idea to him. england, having no designs on albania, does not count much as a power with the ordinary albanian, but is merely something distant and harmless that does not matter, whereas an eye is kept on austria and on italy, and russia is regarded with extreme suspicion. "and you have come all this journey to see us!" he cried. "it is wonderful! i am a christian albanian. i am catholic." here he crossed himself vigorously to show that he really was, for in these lands your position in this world and the next depends mainly upon how this is done. "ah, but you should see skodra!" i told him i knew it well, and he beamed with pleasure. we discussed its charms and the unsurpassed magnificence of its shops. "and it is in the hands of those devils the turks. ah, the devils! i came here eighteen years ago with my father, because this is a free land. here all is safe, but it is a poor country. when i was a boy i was bad. i went to the school of the frati, but i would not learn. now i know nothing, and i speak italian, oh, so badly!" he rocked himself sadly to and fro with his big account-book on his knees. son of the race with the worst reputation in europe and born in one of europe's worst governed corners, he lamented (as which of us has not done?) the lost chances of his youth and his lack of book-learning. to comfort him, i told him his people in skodra had been very good to me. he cheered up. "why do you come here?" he asked. "why do you not travel in my country?" i said that i was told that it was a bad time and the country very dangerous. he considered the question earnestly, and looked me all over. then he said seriously, "no; my people are very good to women, they will not hurt you. but there is no government, so the bad people do what they like. there are some bad people; turks, all turks. but there is no fear. truly they will take all your money, but they will not hurt you. that," he said simply, "would not be honest. my people are all honest. you must not shoot a woman, for she cannot shoot you. now with a man it is different; you must shoot him, or he will shoot you first. also you cannot take his money if you do not shoot him first." to all of which points i agreed. "truly it is a misfortune," he continued, "that there is no government. if we had only a king!" "do you think you will have one?" i asked. he chuckled mysteriously. the air just then was thick with rumours of a castriot descendant of the skender beg family who at that very moment was reported to be awaiting an opportunity for landing in albania. reports of his fabulous wealth were arousing much excitement in the breasts of his prospective subjects, but i fancy a rumour of their custom of "shooting first" must have reached his ears; for, so far, this middle-aged gentleman, whose life has been passed in italian palazzos, has shown no hurry to take up his inheritance. my friend's ideas were vague and formless, and he could get no farther than "a king for albania and death to those devils the turks." after a little more talk, i got up to say good-bye. but he insisted upon my having more coffee first. "it is true that i am poor," he said, "but i am not too poor to give two cups of coffee to one who has come so far to see us. some day in your country you will see some poor devil from skodra, and you will be good to him because his people are your friends." nothing could exceed the grace with which he proffered hospitality to a stranger guest, but he saw no objection to robbery with murder if committed according to rule; and he prided himself on his christianity. he shook hands with me very heartily. "a pleasant journey," he said. "remember me when you meet a skodra-albanian in london. i shall never see you again--never, never." the sun was setting rather dismally, and with "nikad, nikad" (never) ringing in my ears and the gaunt ruins of the dead city before me, i felt quite as depressed as the albanian. truly the albanian outlook is not a cheerful one. in the larger towns, where turkish troops are quartered and there are plenty of mohammedan officials, the christians are in the minority, and their cowed manner makes it fairly obvious that they have a poor time. but the christians of the mountains very much hold their own. the mirdite tribe in the heights between the drin and the coast is entirely christian and one of the most fiercely independent. the town christian who has picked up a smattering of education from the foreign frati, has had a peep at the outside world and vaguely realises the blessings of life in a well-ordered land, sighs for some form of civilised government. some have even told me that they wish to be "taken" by somebody--"by austria, or italy, or you, or anybody. it could not be worse than it is now." but the mass of the people resent most fiercely the idea of any foreign interference, and cling fast to their wild and traditional manner of life. whether christian or mussulman, the albanian is intensely albanian. a christian will introduce you to a mohammedan and say, "he is a turk, but not a bad turk; he is good like me; he is albanian." the christian that the albanian mussulman persecutes is, as a rule, the christian of another race. between christian and mohammedan albanian there is plenty of quarrelling, but then so there is between christian and christian, mohammedan and mohammedan. it is of the blood-feud, intertribal kind, played according to rule; for even in albania it is possible, if the rules be not observed, for killing a man to be murder. when a common enemy threatens, a "bessa" (truce with one another) is proclaimed, and they unite against him. the chief tribes in northernmost albania are the hotti along by the montenegrin frontier and by the lake; the shoshi and the men of shialla and of skreli in the mountains above the plain of skodra; the mirdites in the mountains between the drin and the coast; and the klementi on the montenegrin frontiers by mokra and andrijevitza. the turks from time to time, when the albanians have been more than usually lively, by various means (including treachery) have contrived to give the chieftains of one and another "appointments" in remote corners of asia minor, but with no results so far, except that the people, deprived of the only man who had any authority over them, became yet more unmanageable. even the mildest of the town christians takes a delight in pointing out in the bazaar the tobacco which has paid no duty and saying, "we pay no tax for tobacco; we are albanian, and we do not like to." the turks have been unable to enforce this tax, and have to content themselves by searching the baggage that leaves the country and opening the hand-bags of tourists to prevent tobacco from leaving untaxed. the albanians seldom do anything they "do not like," and they are quick to object to any interference. just now they have been objecting to "reformation" on austro-russian lines. the so-called reforms were the laughing-stock of everybody--servian, montenegrin, and albanian--when i was out there last summer. for the albanian's "unreformedness" has always been his chief attraction in turkish eyes, and in order to give him every opportunity to behave in an "unreformed" manner, when the spirit moved him, the turk in recognition of his services in the last war supplied the albanian lavishly with weapons. christians throughout the turkish dominions have always been forbidden to carry arms. the christian albanian alone has this privilege. every mountain man has firearms of some sort, many of them fairly modern rifles. it is one thing to give a man a gun and quite another to take it away from him. when the weapons were merely used upon the wretched unarmed servian peasants in the plains of old servia, not a soul in any part of europe save russia paid the smallest attention; but when stcherbina, the russian consul, fell a victim, it was a different matter, and the turks found themselves in the unpleasant position of having either to offend russia or to quarrel with their best allies. they proceeded to "reform" albania on truly turkish lines. they chased the albanians out of the territory they had had no business to have swooped upon, and they arrested a few leaders as a matter of form. the albanians were astonished and rather aggrieved, for they had done very little more than they had always been given to understand they might do. further interference might have alienated the albanians altogether, but as for the sake of appearances and the "reform scheme" some non-mohammedan officials had to be appointed, the turks sent an armenian and a jew, called respectively isaac and jacob, to skodra. isaac and jacob were shot in the main street in the day-time, and as far as i have heard their situations are still vacant. the affair caused some little amount of excitement, nevertheless the albanians did not wish to resort to violence so long as the "government" did not make itself disagreeable. there is an old tomb in skodra, the last resting-place of some minor mohammedan saint. shortly after the deaths of isaac and jacob some mysterious writing was found upon the tomb. though written in very ordinary charcoal, it was obviously of more or less divine origin, and the people anxiously waited the deciphering of the message. it proved to be merely a piece of a verse from the koran conferring a vague blessing upon somebody. "allah be praised!" said an old hodja, greatly relieved, "it has not told us to go and shoot any more reformers!" there were a great many more soldiers in skodra than before. i asked several people the reason of this, in order to see what they would say. they one and all said, with a smile, "the turks want to reform albania, but they are obliged to send the soldiers to the towns, because the people in the country do not like them!" the town swarmed with soldiers. an officer rushed at my old guide, whom i was employing to interpret for me in the bazaar, and abused him in a loud voice till i interfered; a soldier seized and beat very severely a wretched little boy who begged of me, and my efforts on his behalf were of no avail; and these were all the results of the reforms that i saw or heard of in skodra. but the idea seems gaining ground that the albanian in the event of a war may cease to support a dying cause and elect to play a game of his own. when, as must inevitably be shortly the case, macedonia is under a christian governor, albania will be yet more separated from the present seat of government (constantinople), and the situation will become acute. i heard a good deal about "the king that is to be." many serbs even expressed their opinion that the albanians would be a great deal better if their independence were recognised; saying that at present they are responsible to no one; the turk incites them to commit atrocities, and washes his hands of all they do; and that left to themselves the albanians would develop into a fine people. that they have the makings of a fine people is probably true. that they are now capable of self-government is quite another thing. unlike the other balkan peoples, they have no past, no former empire. their history is all "years that the locusts have eaten." what is to become of the albanians? is one of the hardest of all the eastern questions. austria desires to have the answering of it. chapter viii skodra skodra is the capital of north albania. in our maps it is usually called scutari--a name which causes it to be confused with the other and far better known scutari on the bosporus. in a french paper i once read an account of "the prince of montenegro's palace on the bosporus" which described the princes country place at podgoritza, near the lake of scutari. but the french seldom shine as geographers. skodra can be reached from the port of st. giovanni di medua, at which a line of lloyd steamers calls regularly. from thence a ride of nine hours, if you can find a horse, will take you by a very bad road to the town. but even from the turks, who take a _couleur-de-rose_ view of the resources of their land, i failed to learn that the route offered any attractions. it can also be reached by a steamer which, when there is enough water in the river, ascends the bojana as far as obotti, whence a barge will wobble you up to the town in an hour or thereabouts. by far the prettiest and pleasantest route is that from cetinje by the lake. the _danitza_, the chief vessel of the montenegrin squadron according to the engineer, runs twice a week from rijeka. it is a clean, tidy little boat built in glasgow, and is very fairly punctual as to time. the sluggish stream meanders slowly in and out the hills; the channel of deep water serpentines through acres of water-lilies, white and yellow, whose leaves form a dense mat on the surface and a happy hunting-ground for the water birds--duck, moorhens, herons, spoonbills, and pelicans. it is a færie river, with the magic of the hills upon it, all silent save for the flap of the herons that rise as the boat glides past. half choked with reeds and weeds which grow rankly luxuriant and rot in tangles, it tells of the making of the fertile lands of montenegro, for the plains are all ancient lake beds from which the water has retreated. one hears without surprise that fever haunts the river in autumn, but, judging by the healthy appearance of the folk of the neighbourhood, it cannot be of a very virulent type, and at no time of the year have i met with any mosquitoes. at the rivers mouth stand wretched shanties of rock and brushwood, the dwellings of the fisher-folk who reap, in the late autumn, a plenteous harvest. vast shoals of small fish called "scoranze" rush up the lake from the sea, and are netted in such thousands that, dried and salted, they form one of montenegro's chief exports. [illustration: street in bazaar skodra.] we pass the island of vranina and glide out into the great green lake, leave the heights of montenegro behind us, and see at the farther end the "accursed mountains" of albania purple in the distance. the waters of the lake, according to the albanians, are endowed with marvellous curative properties. you must drink of them for a month, and then, no matter what is your disease, you "throw it all up," or else you die!--a severe kill--or--cure remedy upon which i have never experimented. we stop at plavnitza and at virbazar to pick up passengers, who come out in big canoes with long, upturned, pointed prows, and the deck is soon crowded with gay baggage and its strange owners, all of whom are usually anxious to make friends. you have only to show an interest in the women's babies and the men's weapons to secure entertainment for the rest of the voyage. "show the lady your new gun," said a tall albanian to a youth. he passed over a russian repeating rifle. a woman who was standing near hastily got out of the way. the albanian expressed contempt. "it might go off," said the woman. "well, what if it did?" laughed the albanian. "look at me. i've been shot twice. it's nothing. once i was hit here," he touched his shoulder; "and the doctor cut out the ball with a knife," he added with great satisfaction. "my brother died," said the woman briefly. so on, in leisurely fashion, till at the end of the lake we see the crescent flying from an antiquated warship--the red flag and the dying moon that we falsely call the "crescent," for it will never wax again. i confess that i never see it on the borders without a curious thrill. i was brought up to consider the turk a virtuous and much injured individual. now i never cross his frontier without hoping soon to be able to witness his departure from europe. a shattered fortress frowns on the hill, a row of ramshackle buildings lines the shore, a filthy crowd fills the custom-house steps. scutari--albanese, skodra at last. time rolls back from the invisible boundary against which the centuries have beaten in vain, and before us lies the land of a prehistoric people and the life of past ages. canoes big and little come paddling out in a scrambling hugger-mugger; montenegro becomes, for the time being, a type of all that is most civilised in west europe, and we leave it behind us on the steamboat. the custom-house is a dark den, in which everyone shouts at once and tumbles over everyone else. smuggle your dictionary, if you have one, in an under pocket; there is no knowing, says the turk, what a book in a foreign language may contain, so away with them all. there are few things more deadly. passports are, or are not, asked for according to the amount of political tension. i have heard of two individuals who "rushed" that frontier by the aid of receipted bills, the stamps on which gave them a pleasingly official air, and have twice myself crossed the turkish frontier "when i hadn't ought." anyone with an ounce of wits can, i believe. and really there is something to be said for a passport system that is warranted to exclude no one but the fools. the persian who inspects the passports, on this occasion, merely asked for our names, which were too much for him. we gave him our visiting cards; he copied our christian names letter by letter, then, exhausted by the effort, he added london as sufficient address, and the ceremony was complete. he is a humble youth, will accept twopence as bakshish, and be your dog for a florin. like most turkish officials, he exists, i presume, on the pickings of his office. and the nation he loves the best in all europe varies according to the nationality of the individual he is addressing. one gets used to arriving at skodra as one does to most other things, but the first visit is an amazement. it will be some time before i forget that day when we emerged for the first time from that custom-house. the captain of the steamer ruthlessly whacked off all the would-be porters except one small boy, and bade him take us to the carriage stand. off sped the boy like a hare, threading the mazes of the bazaar, dodging round corners and plunging down dark airless passages, his bare feet gripping the pavement, we following hard on his heels, dazzled by sun-spots, blinded in the darkness, confused by the unwonted sights, and slithering on the slippery cobblestones which slope down to the gutter in the middle where the pack-asses walk and the muck accumulates. finally, after a ten minutes' chase, he halted us breathless on an open space on the farther side of the bazaar, stowed us into the remains of a peagreen fly, and accepted sixpence with gratitude. off we rumbled down a lane that, but for its wayfarers, might be english, so familiar are its hedges, ditches, bramble and clematis, and we reached the residential part of the town and a decent hostelry in about twenty minutes. skodra is not merely an interesting spot to visit from cetinje; it also belongs rightly and properly to servian history. from a very early period (it is said the seventh century) it formed part of the servian territories, and it remained unconquered after the fatal battle of kosovo. it was the capital of george balsha, prince of the zeta, and was resigned by him into the hands not of the turks, but the venetians, traces of whose architecture yet remain in the town. though more than once attacked, it was not taken by the turks until 1479, and then only after a siege of six months. now the turk holds skodra, the albanian calls it his, and the montenegrin has never forgotten that it once formed part of the great servian empire. according to the albanian, it is the finest city in europe, and when he tells you so he is proudly speaking what he believes to be the literal truth. to him it is an ideal spot, the model of what a capital should be, and the centre of his universe. the albanian may be caught young, and tamed; he may wander into far countries; he does a good trade in rome; he may even live years in england; but for him a glory always hangs over the capital of his country. he is rare in london; there are only two or three of him, and he was hard to find. i tracked him to a far suburb, and when he learnt whence i had come his enthusiasm was unbounded. the greatness and magnificence of his country made it not at all surprising that the whole of europe coveted it, and he gloried in the fact. "not that russia, nor them austria, nor nobody," he said, "was going to have it! english mans silly mans; no understand my people. my people all one week like that"; here he whirled his arms wildly round his head; "next week go back work. olright. war with turks? no, ain't going to be none." "isn't the turkish government a hard one?" i asked. "there ain't no government," said he gleefully. "what about the taxes?" "oo pay?" said the tame albanian; "you tell me that." money, he admitted, had to be raised at intervals, but you always lived in hope that it would be raised in some other district, and if you displayed a proper amount of spirit it was. in the days of his youth he had fought for the turks. "i bashi-bazouk," he said with pride; "reg'lar army all them mohammedans. i catholic. i good christian. i bashi-bazouk." to us bashi-bazoukdom and christianity are odd yoke-fellows. to him, quite right and proper. head of a flourishing business in london, and clad in a smart overcoat and a billycock hat, he sat down cross-legged on the floor, and his eyes sparkled as he thought of the good old bashi-bazouk days. to london he came because, as everyone knows, "there is lot of money in london." he knew no word of english and but little italian; had scarcely any money; his entire stock in trade consisted of some native costumes and some silver filigree work. failure would seem to have been inevitable, but the pluck and enterprise of the ex-bashi-bazouk overcame all difficulties. "you think my country wild country," said he; "now i tell you--london; it big bad place. five million peoples in london. my god, what a lot of criminals! in my country no man starve. he knock at door. 'what you want?' 'i hungry.' 'olright, you come in.' he give him bread, he give him wine. in london you say, 'you git 'long, or i call a p'leece.'" wherever a christian albanian requires help, he has but to knock at the door of another christian albanian and say so. no payment is ever thought of. "how should we live," said a man to me, "if we did not help one another?" compared with albania, london, even now in the eyes of the ex-bashi-bazouk, is a vast and uncivilised wilderness. perhaps he is right. nevertheless, he has found it an excellent place to get on in. his wife--"my albanian missus," as he called her--had, he confessed, a very poor time. knowing no language but albanian, and sighing always for the sun and the shores of the lake of skodra, she was near weeping when she heard that i had just come from the beloved spot. she wore a red cap with coins round it, and a medal dangled in the centre of her forehead. she seemed singularly out of place in a london back-shop. "by god," said her husband casually, "i'm sorry for that pore fem'le!" and he had a certain sympathy for her, in spite of his cheerful tone. "earth hunger," the fierce desire for a particular plot of ground, a plot which reason may point out to be barren, arid, lonesome, and in every way unlovable, but which is the cradle of the race, is and perhaps will always be one of the most unconquerable of human passions. the tame albanian says he means to end his days in "the finest city in europe, skodra." it is not a salubrious spot. it is suffocating in summer and flooded in winter. it suffers from heavy rains, and lies low. its one virtue is that it does not possess mosquitoes, but it makes up for this by being full of tuberculosis. nevertheless, it grips one's imagination, it arouses the sleeping spirit of first one and then another long dead ancestor who lived in the squalid, glittering middle ages and before, and they point the way and they whisper, "such and such we did, and this also--_do you not remember_?" and strange things that one has not seen before seem oddly familiar; three or four hundred years ago, they or something very like them were part of one's daily life. in the bazaar down by the river, with its maze of narrow crooked streets, its crazy wooden booths and its vile pavement, life goes on much as it did with us ages ago. each trade has its own quarter, as in all eastern bazaars. and narrow ways, called mercery street, butchers' row, goldsmiths' alley, in many an english town, still tell of the time when so it was in england, in days when timber was as cheap, streets as crooked and narrow, and pavement as bad as they are now in skodra. and then in england, as now in skodra, people wore colours--red, blue, green, yellow--and those that could afford it were brave with embroideries. their wants were few, luxuries there were few to be purchased, and they showed all their worldly goods upon their persons in a blaze of gold and finery on high days and holidays. skodra does so still, and so does every peasant and many a nobleman in the old-world balkan peninsula of to-day. gorgeous garments solidly made they are, for they will not go out of fashion next season, nor the season after, never indeed until albania is "civilised," and when will that be? so the finery is made to last, and is worn and worn till it descends to "petticoat lane" and is bought by the very poor. and when the stitchery is all rubbed off by the friction of years, still the garment hangs together, and is worn until it finally drops off piecemeal in squalid rags. all these garments, however gorgeous without, are lined with coarse materials, often pieces that do not match patched together, for the albanian ideas of dressmaking are old-world. the modern modiste has invented cotton and linen costumes lined with silk or satin. her ancestress, however, acted on the albanian plan, and the beautiful silk and brocade costumes that have come down to us from elizabeths and charles i.'s time are finished within with coarse and unsightly canvas. near the entrance of the bazaar are the workshops of the carpenters, who make and carve great chests to hold the clothes, gaudy things painted peagreen and picked out with scarlet and gold, degenerate descendants of the beautifully carved and coloured chests in which all europe kept its clothing in gothic and renaissance days. the makers of the chests fashion, too, wonderful cradles, coloured in the same gay manner, and in them the babies are packed and slung on pack-saddles or on women's backs. in a land of rough travelling, a strong box in which to pack the baby is a necessity, and doubtless our ancestors used the solid oak cradles we know so well in a like manner. any day in the bazaar is interesting, for the shopmen nearly all make their own goods. the gunsmiths fill cartridges all day long, for they are an article much in demand, repair rifles and revolvers, and fit fine old silver butts, gorgeous with turquoise or cornelian, on to modern weapons. the silversmith squats cross-legged on the floor with a tray of burning charcoal, some tweezers, a roll of silver wire, and a little box full of silver globules. he works silently, deliberately, with long, nimble fingers picking up the tiny globules and arranging them, snipping and twisting the little bits of wire, building up and soldering with great dexterity the most effective designs--designs with sides that match, but are never quite symmetrical, like natures own work, satisfying the eye in a way that no machine-made article ever will. however rough his workmanship, his idea is almost always good, and he produces daring effects with glass rubies and emeralds of the largest size. in work of this sort the albanian excels. when he comes to larger constructions, his trick of working by eye and getting balance by instinct is not so successful; his rooms are all crooked, his houses out of the square. perhaps this is the inevitable out-come of his odd-shaped mind. it is rumoured that three-sided rooms may be found in skodra, for the simple reason that somehow the builders, owing to a nice confusion of angles, could not squeeze in a fourth wall. they are an honest, civil lot, these skodra tradesmen; and though your money will probably fly from hand to hand and disappear round the corner, the change always comes back correctly in the end, and you pass the interval drinking coffee with the shop owner. if your purchases are many, he will kindly send out to buy a piece of common muslin in which to wrap them; for skodra does not supply paper, and when you have bought a thing, conveying it away is your own affair. we in london are used to having paper included lavishly with the goods, but an old lady once told me that in her young days the fashionable drapers of london would lend linen wrappers to those who bought largely, and the said wrappers had to be returned next day. in this particular skodra is not more than eighty or ninety years behind london. to see the bazaar in all its glory one must go on a wednesday; that is "bazaar day," and all the folk of the surrounding country flock thither. "which is bazaar day in london?" i have been asked any number of times by serb, montenegrin, and albanian. and "every day is bazaar day in london" is the one thing that gives them any idea of london's size. the five million inhabitants, railway trains, electric lights, and so forth, are all quite beyond their ken; but "bazaar every day" stuns and dazzles them, and at once calls up a picture of vast crowds and illimitable wealth. on "bazaar day" skodra is thronged with strange types--costumes bizarre, grotesque, wild and wonderful, and the road from an early hour is crowded with flocks, pack-animals and their owners. flocks as strange as their drivers, for the ram of the pattering drove of sheep is often dyed a bright crimson, and his horns instead of curling neatly round by the sides of his head are trained to stand up like those of an antelope with their tight twist pulled out to long spiral his fashion is an even older one than that of his masters, for we find the ram with the same head-dress in early egyptian frescoes. for some of these people it is three, even four days' tramp down to the market from their mountain homes, and over the rough tracks the women carry incredibly heavy burdens; not only the bundles of faggots or hides that are for sale, but the baby in a big wooden cradle is tied on the top. the men march in front with their rifles and look after the flocks. firearms have to be left outside the bazaar. it is true that a good number of people are still privileged to carry them, but i have haunted the bazaar quite alone so often that i have ceased to believe in the many blood-curdling tales about its murderous possibilities with which travellers are usually favoured. nor, when you once know your way, do i think any guide or kavass necessary. it is very dull with a kavass, for no one comes to play with you. i tried it once for an hour or so, and never again. but though you see no murders, you may see cases where apparently vengeance has been satisfied with mutilation, and meet a man whose nose has been cut off so lately that a bloodstained rag covers the vacancy. and the mountain-man swaggers up to the cartridge shop and fills the many spaces that have occurred in his belt since last he came to market. [illustration: skodra.] i have no space to describe the dresses of the various tribes; the women with stiff, straight, narrow skirts boldly striped with black that recall forcibly the dresses upon the earliest greek vases; the great leathern iron-studded belts; the women with cowries in their hair; the wild men from the mountains in huge sheepskin coats with the wool outside; town christian women blazing in scarlet and white, masses of gilt coins, silver buttons and embroidery; mohammedan ladies shapeless in garments which may be correctly termed "bags," or to be still more accurate, "undivided trousers," of brilliant flowered material, not only thickly veiled but with blue and gold cloth cloaks clasped over the head as well, shrouding the figure and allowing only a tiny peephole through which to see; poor women, veiled down to the knees in white, looking like ghosts in the dark entrances; turks in turbans, long frock-coats and coloured sashes; little girls their hair dyed a fierce red and their eyebrows blackened. they all unite in one dazzling and confused mass which one only disentangles by degrees, and when i plunged for the first time into that unforgettable picture, saw the blaze of sunlight, the dark rich shadows, the gorgeousness, the squalor, the glitter, the filth, the colour, the new-flayed hides sizzling in the sun and blackened with flies, the thousand and one tawdry twopenny articles for sale on all hands, i thought with a pang of the poor albanian "fem'le" who was passing weary, colourless hours in a grey london suburb, and understood the sickness of her soul. of all the old-world things in the town--older than the neatly cut flints for the flintlocks that are still in use, older than the tight mediæval leg-gear--the loose tunic bound round the waist by a sash and the full drawers tied round the ankle, as worn by the common mohammedan men and boys of the town (a very ordinary dress throughout the east) is the oldest. it is the dress of the men on the early greek vases; of the dacians on trajan's column; of the captive gauls in the louvre; the dress, in short, of all the "barbarians," the "braccati" of the romans. the romans and the toga and the chlamys are all gone, and here, in the same old place, the barbarians are cutting their skirts and trousers on the same old pattern, and are very fairly barbarous still. but they have learned to shave their heads and to wear a white fez, and with this modification we at once recognise them as our old friend pierrot, whose history points to the fact that he really did come from the near east. venice held all the dalmatian coast and part of albania. venice was the home of masques and pantomimes, and among the existing prints of the pantomime characters is one "zanne" in the familiar "pierrot" dress. what more likely than that the fool of the piece should be represented as a boor from a conquered province? to this day, in so-called civilised towns, an unhappy foreigner is still apt to be considered a fair butt by the lower classes. zanne came to england, and figures among the sketches for one of ben jonson's masques. skirts with us are purely feminine garments, but the skirt of the barbarian has grown in albania into a vast unwieldy kilt, and the mohammedan bey swaggers about in a cumbrous fustanella which reaches down to his ankle and sticks out like an old-fashioned ballet-girl's skirt. he cannot work because he wears the fustanella, and it is said that he wears the fustanella in order to be unable to work. forty 1 metres of material go to this colossal and ridiculous garment. the greater part of the fulness is worn in front, and sways clumsily from side to side as the wearer walks. the greeks adopted it in a modified form, but it must be seen on an albanian to realise its possibilities. the albanians have rarely, as yet, succeeded in doing anything in moderation. after seeing what the men were capable of in the skirt line, i was not surprised that the shepherd-folk out on the plains began by asking my guide with great interest if i were a man or a woman. but we must leave the bazaar, though many days do not exhaust its interests; leave the butchers' quarter, a harmony in pinks and blood-red, where the dogs lap red puddles, the butcher wipes a wet knife across his thigh, and the people run about with little gobbets of mutton for dinner, a fiercely picturesque place sicklied with the smell of blood; leave the "petticoat lane" of skodra, where the cast-off finery of albanian ladies and the trappings of beauty are displayed alongside heaps of the most hopeless rags. aged crones as antique as their wares squat upon the ground. the sunlight blazes on the gold stitchery till it sparkles with its pristine splendour; the hag in charge of it, atropos-like, points out its beauties with a large pair of shears, while lachesis spins a woollen thread alongside. i vow they are the fates themselves selling the garments of their victims. by the afternoon the crowds of country-folk are already reloading the pack-animals, decked with blue bead headstalls and amulets to keep off the evil eye, that await them at the entrance of the bazaar, where the gipsy smiths and tinkers work, half stripped, a-ripple with tough muscle, under little shanties made of sticks and flattened-out petroleum cans. how the land got on before the petroleum can was introduced it is hard to imagine. in the hands of the gipsies it is the raw material from which almost everything is made. the peasants load their beasts--they are adepts at pack-saddling and you rarely see a sore back--and trail slowly across the plains towards their mountain homes. the bazaar is shut up, darkness comes on fast, and belated foot passengers pick their way with lanterns. night in skodra is uncanny. the half-dozen tiny oil lamps do not light it at all. when there is no moon, the darkness is impenetrable and absolute, save perhaps for a long streak of light from the door-chink of the next shop and the lighted windows of the mosque opposite. the black silhouettes of praying figures rise and fall within them, but the mosque itself is swallowed up in the surrounding blackness. a spark appears on the roadway, someone passes with a lantern and disappears. the street is dead still till a sword clanks and the patrol marches past. the lights are extinguished in the mosque. the darkness is dense and dead, and there is no sound. it is only nine o'clock, but all skodra seems asleep. skodra the town, as distinguished from the bazaar, has not a great deal to show. it is a big town with some 40,000 inhabitants, and as all houses of any size stand in a large yard or garden, it covers much space. here every man's house is his castle, and the high walls are not only for seclusion but for defence. skodra, from time to time, receives a rumour that thousands of armed men are marching upon it. all the shops are shut, the guards are doubled on the bridges, and folk shut themselves in their houses. the phantom army does not appear, and in two or three days things are going on as before. "but it will come some day," said a man, when i laughed about a reported army of forty thousand that had never turned up. the mohammedan quarter has the air of being far more wealthy and high-class than the christian. the houses that one gets a glimpse of through the gateways are large and solid. but the streets are lonesome and deserted. now and then i met a couple of veiled ladies, who, if no man were in sight, usually strove hard to make my acquaintance, and partially unveiled for the purpose. but as i know neither turkish nor albanian, we never got farther than the fact that i was "a frank" and a deal of smiling and nodding. two in particular walked a long way with me, chattering all the time, and for the benefit of the inquisitive, i must say that they were both very pretty girls. in skodra not only the mohammedan but the town roman catholic women go veiled, though the country-folk do not, and until married are often kept in a seclusion which to our ideas is little short of imprisonment--facts which throw a strong light upon the unlovely state of society which has made them necessary; for the etiquettes of society are usually based upon raw and unpleasant truths. it is idle folly to ascribe western and twentieth-century ideas to these primitive people, but the fact remains that the life of the average albanian woman is an exceedingly hard one. that of the country-folk is a ceaseless round of excessive physical toil; that of the poorer town woman is, i am told, often spent at the loom from morning till night--labour that only ends when the black fate snips her thread. [illustration: mosque, skodra.] though the mohammedans far outnumber the christians in the town, the mosques are all small plain buildings, only saved from ugliness by the elegance of their tall slim minarets, nor are there many of them. with a grotesque lack of a sense of the fitness of things, the turkish army, when it has a washing-day, uses the largest graveyard as a drying-ground, and a shirt or a pair of drawers flaps on each tombstone. it was not until i saw this sight that i had any idea that the turkish soldiers ever had a washing-day. a lean, unkempt, ragged lot of poor dirty devils with scowling faces, they look more as if returning from a disastrous campaign than as if quartered in the barracks of the capital. and the sight of them is enough to make one have no difficulty in believing the tale that they not unfrequently help themselves to mutton from across the frontier when the "government" is discreetly gazing in another direction. their powers of endurance in war-time are not surprising when their life during "peace" is taken into consideration. a fight in which you may loot all you want must be a pleasant holiday by comparison. the christian quarter of skodra looks less flourishing, and there are crosses on some of the doors, otherwise the two quarters are much the same. the roman catholic townsfolk wear a special costume. that of the men is odd; that of the ladies perhaps the most hideous that has been ever devised. their gigantic trouser-petticoats of purple-black material, in multitudinous pleats, fall in an enormous bag that sticks out all round the ankles, and impedes the wearer to such an extent that she often has to hold it up with both hands in front in order to get along. with her face veiled and the upper part of her body covered with a scarlet, gold-embroidered cloak with a square flap that serves as a hood, she forms an unwieldy, pear-shaped lump--grotesque and gorgeous. the streets here are apt to be flooded in wet weather, and the side walks are high. big blocks of stepping-stones, like those at pompeii, afford a way over the road, nor do carts seem to find any difficulty in passing them. the cathedral of the roman catholics is a large brick building, some fifty years old, with a tall campanile, standing in grounds which are surrounded by a high wall. its great blank interior, owing to lack of funds, has not suffered much from "decoration." at the gateway the women loosen their veils and go into god's house with uncovered faces--beautiful faces, with clean-cut, slightly aquiline noses, clear ivory skins, red lips, and dark eyes with long lashes. there are benches in the nave, but a large proportion of the congregation, especially the country-folk who crowd in on feast days, prefer to sit on the floor; they spread a little rug or handkerchief, kick off their shoes and squat cross-legged on it as in a mosque; women with their breasts covered with coins that glitter as they sway to and fro in prayer; mountain-men with their cartridge belts upon them ready for use against a brother albanian. a fine barbaric blaze of colour, scarlet and scarlet and scarlet again. the service begins; harshly dissonant voices, loud and piercing, chant the responses; and the deep sonorous voice of the young italian at the altar rings out like the voice of civilisation over the barbaric yowling of the congregation. as he mounts the scarlet and gold pulpit there is a hush of expectation. the sermon, in albanian, is a long one, and the crowd hangs breathless on his words. his delivery and his action are simple and dignified, and i watch him sway his congregation with deep interest, though i can understand no word. he is working up to a climax, and he reaches it suddenly in a sentence that ends in the only non-albanian word in the sermon, "inferno." the word thunders down the church on a long-rolled "rrrr," and he stands quite silent, grasping the edge of the pulpit and staring over the heads of the people. there is a painful hush, that seems like minutes. then he suddenly throws himself on his knees in the pulpit and prays. violently moved, his flock prostrate themselves in a passion of entreaty, and those who sit on the ground bend double and touch the floor with their foreheads. the barbaric gaudy congregation, the ascetic earnest young teacher, the raucous wailing voices that rang through the great bare church, made up a poignantly impressive, quite inexplicable whole. i gazed upon the praying crowd and wondered vainly what their idea of christianity may be and what old-world pre-christian beliefs are entangled with it. the albanian clings to these through everything, and in spite of all their efforts the frati have as yet made little or no headway against blood-feuds. the albanian has never adapted himself to anything; he has adapted the thing to himself. he practises the christianity upon which he prides himself, with the ferocity with which he does everything else. he fasts with great rigour, wears a cross as a talisman, and is most particular to make the sign of the cross after the latin and not after the orthodox manner. but his views are very material. "have you got the holy ghost in your country?" i have been asked more than once. and an affirmative answer brought the enthusiastic remark, "then england is just like albania!" the life of benvenuto cellini is interesting reading after a tour in albania, for it represents with remarkable fidelity the stage in religious evolution to which the wild albanian of to-day has arrived. difference of religion is usually given as the reason for the fact that the albanian has almost invariably sided with the enemies of the other christian peoples of the balkans. one suspects, however, that it is rather "the nature of the beast" than the particular form of belief that he has chosen to profess that has cut him off, his fierce independence rather than his religious creed, and the more one sees of him the more probable does this appear. there are very few orthodox albanians in skodra. such as there are wear the same dress as the mohammedans, but the women are not veiled. skodra, except in the way of customs, possesses few antiquities, save the ruins of the old citadel which crown the hill overlooking the town. these are said to be of venetian origin and to have been fairly perfect till some thirty years ago, when the local pasha, having heard of lightning conductors, determined to buy one for the better protection of the tower, which was used as a powder magazine. to this end he chose a handsome brass spike, and then found he was expected to pay extra for a lot of wire. being economical, he took the spike only, had it fixed to the topmost tower, and anxiously awaited a storm. it soon came! the handsome brass spike at once attracted the lightning. bang went the powder magazine, and the greater part of the citadel was shattered before his astonished gaze. the hill now is crowned with a heap of ruins, but as strangers are strictly forbidden to visit it, i presume the turks have constructed something that they consider a fortress among them. at the foot of this hill are the ruins of a small church. big white crosses are painted upon it, and it is considered a very holy spot. every christian peasant stops as he passes it and crosses himself, and though all that is left are fragments of the walls, i have been told that a service is still occasionally held in it. the only other relic of past days in the neighbourhood is the fine stone bridge with pointed arches near messi, about four and a half miles from skodra across the plain. this is undoubtedly venetian work. the stream it spans is a raging torrent in the wet season, and has wrought much damage in the town and devastated a large tract of the plain. the rest of this is covered with short turf and bracken fern, and grazed by flocks of sheep and goats. the herdsmen, shaggy in sheepskins and armed with rifles, the strings of country-people and pack-animals slowly tramping to or from market, and the blue range of rugged mountains make up a strange, wild scene. nor, if you take an albanian with you to do the talking,--for everyone "wants to know,"--does there appear to me to be any danger in wandering there. skodra is the capital, but it has no decent road to its port. it is situated on the outlet of the lake, but though a little money and work would make the bojana river navigable for small steamers, and all the shores of the lake would thus be put in direct communication with the sea, nothing is done, and this, which should be the chief trade route for north albania and a large part of montenegro, is of little use. skodras exports are not enough for skodra to worry about greatly. hides, tobacco, some sumach root and bark for dyeing and tanning, some maize and fruit, and a number of tortoises, which the albanian finds ready-made, form the bulk of the exports of the neighbourhood. skodra is one of the few capitals which you can leave with the certainty of finding it exactly the same next year. chapter ix skodra to dulcigno i have on one point, at any rate, a fellow-feeling with the albanian. skodra fascinates me. when i am not there--only then, mind you--i am almost prepared to swear with him that it is the finest city in the world, and a year after my first visit i found myself again on the steamer, hastening skodra-wards, with the intention of riding thence to dulcigno. skodra greeted me warmly as an old friend. that exalted official the persian beamed upon me and said that for mademoiselle a passport was not necessary, the customs let me straight through, and i was soon settled comfortably in my old quarters. the persian, because, so he said, of our long friendship, but really because he was aching with curiosity, called upon me at once in the crumpled and unclean white waistcoat in which he fancies himself, and chatted affably. he comes, so he tells me, of a most exalted family; were he only in tehran, instead of, unfortunately, in skodra, he would be regarded with universal respect and veneration. as i have no idea of the standard required by tehran, i condoled with him gravely, and accepted his statement. it was a great joy to skodra, he informed me, that i should have come alone. no other lady had ever done so. only une anglaise would; for the english alone understand turkey--are her dear friends. here his enthusiasm was unbounded. upon turkish soil every english person was as safe as in england. this was owing to the excellence of the government. "there is," he said, "no government like ours." i told him the latter statement was universally believed, and pleased him greatly. he soared to higher flights. it was astonishing, he said, and most annoying, that false accounts of turkey were published by foreign papers. he would go so far as saying that they never told the truth. it was even said that in parts of turkey there had been considerable disturbances lately. parole d'honneur, this was quite untrue. never had the land been in a more tranquil or flourishing condition, and as a proof of his assertion he told me that his information was entirely derived from official sources. now at this time, "according to foreign papers," russia, aided by turkish troops, was vainly trying to force a consul into mitrovitza, encounters between troops and desperate villagers were reported almost daily from macedonia, trains on the salonika line had been more than once "held up," and the governor of the very district we were in had been shot at some months before. but he burbled on of the beauty of the british government and of the support it always afforded in the hour of need. everything desirable, including liberty and equality, flourished under the crescent, he said. at this moment a poverty-stricken little gang of ragged men tramped past, bearing in turns upon their shoulders a long battered old coffin, from which the paint was almost worn away. they stopped to shift it nearly opposite us. it was lidless, and the dead man's white face, his knees, and his great sheepskin stood above its edge. he lay in his clothes just as he died. the persian, with ill-timed merriment, pointed to the corpse. "a dead sheep, mademoiselle!" said he contemptuously. he addressed some remark in an unknown tongue to the mourners. the coffin-bearers passed sullenly. "a dead christian," i said to him sharply. "yes, yes, a catholic," he admitted. i stared hard at his shifty eyes; he hastily dropped into politics again, and i thought about equality. not being desirous of emulating miss stone, and as the persian for imaginativeness rivalled his fellow-countryman, omar khayyam, i collected advice from various quarters. great as were the joys of skodra, dulcigno was my object; but i did not seem to get any nearer arriving there. everybody combined to try to frighten me off the ride. having played about skodra for over a week, however, i persuaded myself that the albanian was a friendly and much maligned being, took all the responsibility upon myself, and decided to carry out my plan. i fixed the matter up with a rush. dutsi, the man who was to guide me, turned up early in the morning with a sturdy pony; i said farewell, and started through the town on foot. it was no use my mounting, said dutsi mournfully, till we had passed the passport place; the turks were very bad about passports--_diavoli_, in fact. this with a gentle air of resignation, as if it were highly possible it would not be worth while to mount at all. we walked along the banks of the bojana till we came to its point of union with the drin. over the drin is a big wooden bridge with a fantastic arch of wood across it, and on the bridge stood soldiers in the dirty rags that the turks call a uniform. "your passport," said dutsi hurriedly. i produced it; but as none of the authorities could read anything but turkish, it was useless. dutsi looked anxious. "they want your name," he said, and looking at the passport-case, which is stamped "mary e. durham," he read out "marie" with triumph. everyone was satisfied. i entered skodra as "edith of london"; i left it as no less a person than "mary of england." great and obvious are the blessings of the passport system. i gave a twopenny bakshish, and we passed on to the bridge. dutsi was a changed being; his spirits rose as soon as the turks were left behind. he told me he was much attached to the english, and that now i might mount. after an hour or so of enjoyment, the road got worse, and then rapidly worse still, and fuller and fuller of water. the bojana was in flood, and the waters were out. my beast splashed through water almost up to his belly, and dutsi took circuits through peoples maize fields. then it got so bad that we left the track and laboured fetlock--deep through ploughed land, and saw ox-carts bogged to the axle in the sea of mud that was all that was left of the road. and after a little of this, the track was lost altogether, and we wandered round through tracts of mud and streams, forced a passage through an osier bed only to come to a swirling sheet of water, tried back, and finally made for a hovel and hallooed for help. the owner came out, took us over his own grounds, and started us again on something like a path, which soon disappeared. dutsi, however, now knew the direction, and the pony was extraordinarily clever at climbing greasy banks, boring his way through the willows on top, and scrambling over the ditch the other side without even once "pecking." we came to some low hills, and got on to dry ground at last. then dutsi discovered to his distress that my umbrella, which he had tied to the back of the saddle, was gone. this was a sad loss, but it was evidently gone beyond recall. dutsi in despair laid the blame entirely on those devils the turks, who made such devils of roads, and were such devils to the good christians that they were unable to improve the country. "oh, the devils!" said dutsi; "they have lost your devil of an umbrella." this relieved his feelings, and when i pointed out the inky clouds that were rapidly rising and said we had better hurry, he remarked piously, that though it looked like rain he believed that, in consideration of the loss of my umbrella, god would not permit it, for he does not like the turks. thus comforted, we proceeded, over low ground again, splashing over fields that, properly drained, should be magnificent water meadows, but were liquid slush in which great yellow spearwort flourished. at last we came to the river's edge and the ferryman's hut. a great barge was dragged alongside the bank and the pony persuaded to enter it. i sat on the edge and curled up my toes, for the bottom was covered with water, and we were soon off. the boat was towed some distance up stream and let loose, and the force of the current combined with skilful steering swept it across. dutsi was now happy; we should have a "buona strada" all the way! he began telling me of a noble and wealthy englishman, one x. of the foreign office, to whom he had acted as guide in the spring in a shooting expedition, one of the best and kindest signors that existed, and we progressed slowly over the "buona strada," which was like a dry torrent bed, for we were now back among the limestone rocks again. presently we arrived at a stream with a plank across it. "the frontier, the frontier!" cried dutsi, and, as we set foot on the other side, he announced that we were in a free and christian land, montenegro! now, he said, we would rest and eat some bread. so we sat down under a tree, and i discovered that the improvident creature had brought nothing more filling with him than a few cigarettes. as my chances of getting to dulcigno depended entirely on him, i supplied him with two of my three eggs and three-quarters of my loaf, and we were just setting to work when we heard a loud "tom-tom-tomming." out of the bushes came a gang of seven very black gipsies, four muzzled bears, and a loaded ass. between them they carried five rifles and seven revolvers, and they certainly looked the "devils own." the pony snorted and stamped at the bears, and would have bolted had he not been tied fast; we hadn't a weapon between us, and dutsi looked so green that i thought "all the fun of the fair" was about to begin. "dobar dan," said i, through a mouthful of egg, for it is always as well to be civil. they made no answer, but scowled upon us and went surly by, single file, the boy who was in charge of the bears beating his tambourine rhythmically the while. as soon as the last of them had disappeared round the corner, dutsi announced that they were very, very bad and all turks (_i.e_. moslems), and that now we must have a long rest. he was obviously afraid of catching them up. meanwhile the storm clouds were rapidly catching us up. we waited some ten minutes. i insisted upon starting then, and came upon the gipsies almost immediately, for they were making the bears dance in the yard of a lonely cottage on one side of the road. dutsi caught the pony's head, led him round silently on the grass and behind some bushes, and we passed unseen, to his great relief. as he was very tired, i dismounted and gave him a ride. the free and christian road was no better than the heathen one, but we got on very cheerfully for some way. then the floodgates of the heavens opened, and, in spite of the loss of my umbrella, the rain came down in sheets. dutsi most gallantly offered me his, but as i had a mackintosh i begged him to keep it for himself, and remounted and rode through the worst rain i was ever out in. luckily we had just arrived at a decent road, and we took shelter under the first large tree. the whole landscape disappeared behind the grey torrent, and out of it suddenly rushed the wildest figure i have ever seen--an old, old woman, tall and lean, clad only in a long pair of cotton drawers tied under her armpits. her lank wet hair streamed from her head like long black snakes, and she stood out in the rain and waved her arms madly round like mill sails, as she poured out a torrent of albanian. "she wants us to go to her house," said dutsi. "it is over there," as she pointed into the rain, "half an hour away! i tell her, 'no, thank you.'" still the old woman gesticulated and shouted. "falé miners" (thank you), repeated dutsi over and over again in a deep sing-song. she made a last effort. "one million times in the name of god, she asks us to come," said dutsi, with a smile. "she says she can do no more." nor could she, apparently, for she disappeared again into the rain as suddenly as she had come. "it is better to sit here in the dry," said dutsi. "how far is it to dulcigno?" i asked. "two hours at least," said dutsi. i wondered miserably whether the saddle-bags were water-tight, and thought of my only change of clothes; and as there was no prospect of food, and i had only had one egg and a little bread since early morning, i attacked my brand's beef lozenges and blessed the maker. when the storm lifted, we started again, and through sun and storm arrived in a heavy shower in sight of dulcigno just as that most melancholy sound, the clink of a loose shoe, caught my ear. i suggested the best inn to dutsi. he said dismally, "there is only one," and we climbed the hill and entered the town,--a row of houses, a forge, a mosque, and some shops,--and to my dismay pulled up at a tiny albanian drink-shop. "ecco l'albergo," said dutsi. i jumped off the pony and hurried in, out of the downpour. i was streaming, dutsi was streaming, the pony had cast his shoe, and we had been nearly nine hours instead of five and a half on the way. it was a case of any port in a storm. the stripey-legged owner welcomed me effusively in broken italian, and led me through into an earth-floored kitchen and up a few wooden steps to a "molto bella camera" over the shop, talking excitedly. it was a minute apartment, quite unfurnished, except that a trouser-legged lady was curled up fast asleep on a heap of mattresses on a sort of divan of packing-cases. "my wife," said he, giving her a poke, whereupon she jumped up like a jack-in-the-box, threw her arms round my neck, and kissed me three times. dutsi appeared with the saddle-bags. he glanced round the room appreciatively, for it was the sort of place he felt at home in, and said it was "dosta dobra" (pretty good), also that the people were very good and all christians. then he very considerately suggested that i had better change my clothes and would perhaps prefer to be alone, and they left me. my "change," wrapped in a sheet of waterproof and in saddle-bags, was quite dry, and my mind relieved on this point was free to contemplate the possibilities of the establishment. one window had once had glass in it, the other never. except the heap of bedding, there was nothing in the room but a rifle, a cartridge belt, and a picture of st. george. the rain was falling in sheets; seeking for other quarters would result in soaking my only dry clothes; moreover, i was tired. i decided to stay in shelter for the present, and descended to the "kitchen." the floor was of earth and sloped up, for the house was built on the hillside. in one corner dutsi, my host, and another striped gentleman were all squatting on their haunches round a splendid wood fire which blazed on a big slab of stone; madame was making coffee, and monsieur lemonade. a place was made for me at once, and i joined the squatting circle. they were most anxious about my health, felt me to see if i were really dry; and madame, as she was unable to make me understand, kissed my hands and face. the fire had been lighted expressly for me, said monsieur, and now they would all enjoy it. i appealed to dutsi in an undertone about the possibility of better accommodation, but he was positive about this being the only inn. a room in a private house could be found perhaps by the sea, but that was half an hour away; moreover, these were most excellent people, and had lent him a coat and a pair of shoes. their hearty friendliness filled me with trust from the first; the extreme primitiveness of the place attracted me. i said to myself, "you wanted to see the albanians, and the lord has delivered you into their hands. this is a unique opportunity," and i settled in and tried to behave like one of the family. dutsi took a tender farewell of me, and begged me to give his love to x. of the foreign office, that bravest, noblest, and most admirable signor in the whole world, and to tell him that he (dutsi) was praying god night and day to protect him and bring him back to albania. then the rest of the company, whose curiosity had been aroused, were told of the glories of x., and the fact that i was his compatriot counted greatly in my favour; for in these out-of-the-way corners the reputation of the empire depends entirely on the conduct of the two or three individuals who happen to have represented it, and the responsibility upon them is heavy indeed. dutsi departed, and i felt a bit lonesome; but the company rejoiced over me like children over a new kitten. they patted and stroked me, and broke off little pieces of bread for me, and, as i could not understand albanian, grunted and burbled over me like friendly guinea-pigs. the place was thick with pungent wood smoke, which escaped from a window near the roof. the rafters overhead were black and smoky, the walls rough stone; there was a heap of logs and brushwood in the farther corner, and a few pots hung on pegs. otherwise there was nothing. in england, even in anglo-saxon times, my ancestors had tables and chairs. i sat cross-legged by the blazing logs with streaming eyes, and wondered which century i was in. and the firelight danced on the only up-to-date thing in the room, the barrels of a rifle and revolver and the brass tops of the cartridges in the belt of the man next me. for living, we can go on as before with the same old things, but when it comes to killing we really require something better. from time to time monsieur retired to the bar to deal out rakija to customers, and the fame of my arrival soon spread. if the customers were of lowly standing, they were invited in to see me; if, on the contrary, they were great men, montenegrin captains for instance, monsieur asked me if i would be so good as to step out and speak to them. these were all huge, all courteous, all friendly, and all unable to speak anything but servian. rain still poured, but as everyone who came to see me took a glass of something, trade was good. one gentleman who spoke italian was such a tremendous swell that i asked him if there were any better hotel in the place. this surprised him, and he replied that there was no other, and the cooking here was excellent. having interviewed some half-dozen captains and a lot of shaven-headed up-country albanians, i retired to the kitchen again, and began drying my wet under-garments one by one--an operation that interested monsieur so deeply that he insisted upon helping, and singed them freely. in came, in a dripping overcoat, a strapping, cheerful, great montenegrin, who hailed me joyfully in italian, sat down, and, smiling gleefully, remarked in english, "a cat, a dog, a orse, a and, a man," and some dozen other words. everyone looked on in admiration. i returned in servian, to his delight, and he explained to me that he was kavass to the british and foreign bible society in constantinople, and was home for a holiday. his friendliness was unbounded; he insisted that i was to breakfast with him next morning, and demanded to know what i was going to have for supper. he knew all about the english, he said, and i must have roast beef. monsieur retired to a corner and came back with the carcase of a lamb and a caldron. the kavass was greatly opposed to this; monsieur was much excited; anything i required he was willing to try! a great debate ensued. they appealed to me, and i chose the lamb and the pot, for the mere idea of an albanian culinary experiment alarmed me. so madame fetched a hatchet, and the lamb was chopped in chunks on the hearthstone and put into the caldron with a sheaf of onions, and i reflected that i had at least secured mutton broth. the kavass was greatly disappointed, as he wished to show them how to make a real english dinner. i thanked him for his trouble, promised to breakfast with him, and he took his leave. as it had now ceased raining and was still light, monsieur proposed that we should go for a walk. the town is a large one, the shops built of wood, many in turkish style. we went into quite a number, not to buy anything, but just so that the people could really have a good look at me, and i shook hands with them all, monsieur the while swelling with pride. throughout the walk he expatiated on montenegro and the joys of living under the government of the prince; so good, so just. here a man was free. they were saved from those devils the turks. he was himself an albanian of a skodra family. "you are catholic?" i said, for nearly all skodra christians are catholics. "oh no," he said, "now i am a montenegrin, of the church of montenegro. oh, what good people!" we got under shelter just in time, and he showed me his other means of gaining a living. he was an umbrella-mender, and also he embroidered the gold patterns on the tops of caps. "i am always at work," he said, "and this house is my own." everything he possessed he admired and valued. as for his wife, he informed me she was one of the best women in the world, and he called upon me to admire everything she did. god had not given him a son, and this was, it was true, a grief to him, but then "i have so much else," he said cheerfully, "a house that is warm and dry, and a good wife and plenty of friends, and a good daughter." the daughter had last year delighted her father by making a most excellent marriage. she had married a montenegrin, and lived in podgoritza. his shop was a chilly open shed, his kitchen an english peasant would have considered an inferior coal-hole, and he was so pleased with them that i was ashamed of having doubted whether they were good enough for me. i returned to madame and helped stir the pot. monsieur shut up and barred the outer shop, some other men appeared, and we sat down to supper. we each had a basin, a spoon and a fork, and used our own knives. we all stood up while they crossed themselves; then madame uncovered the caldron, and we squatted round it and set to work. the broth, being the stewing of a lamb, was excellent, and as my friends greatly preferred the meat with all the goodness boiled out of it, there was plenty for me. on my account there were extra luxuries, and all were pleased. we dipped out of the caldron and offered one another the tit-bits. when the lamb's head was fished up, monsieur was grieved that i should not have had it, and pulling out the eyes and tongue, offered me them in his hand. in order to make me understand exactly what the morsel was, they put out their own tongues and waggled them about. i said i had had quite enough and thanked him, and they divided the delicacies carefully between them, each taking a bite. a discussion took place, and then monsieur produced a little picture, an ordinary, crude colour-print of the virgin. it seemed to bother them greatly. monsieur evidently admired it, his friends doubted its orthodoxy. there was something written under it that alarmed them. "ask the lady," said one of them in servian. "do you know latin?" said monsieur. "oh yes," said i, for i am always willing to oblige, if possible. "she knows everything," they said, and the little picture was handed to me. under it was written "ave maria, etc." "what language is that?" said the first man eagerly. "that is latin," said i. "latinski!" they cried in horror. instantly, as though it were infectious, the poor little picture was whipped out of my hand and poked into the fire. monsieur shoved it down with his foot. the roman catholic madonna flamed up, and everyone breathed freely again. monsieur made an apologetic explanation, but his friends were obviously shocked at finding such a thing in a respectable house. oddly enough, in spite of my acquaintance with the wicked language, it did not seem to occur to anyone to doubt my orthodoxy. madame, however, had evidently something on her mind which she wanted to tell me, and held an albanian debate with the company. unable any longer to bear the cross-legged attitude, i had retreated, when i had eaten enough, to the bottom step of the little ladder that led to the upper room, and watched the strange scene. the smoke eddied in wreaths round the room and drifted out above; the farther corners were quite dark. the bizarre group squatted round the fire; the trouser-legged woman voluble and eager; the sandal-shod, mediævally-clad men, their clean-cut profiles silhouetted against the blaze, or outlined with red light, handed round a tiny pair of tongs with which they picked out fragments of burning wood and lighted their cigarettes. all were interested. i wondered what it was all about. monsieur turned and explained. his wife, he said, liked me very much; their only daughter was married; they were lonely. would i stay with them for always and be a daughter to them? now i had seen what the house was like; they would all be very good to me, and we should all be "molto contento." everyone waited anxiously for my reply. they were quite serious about it, and i replied in the same spirit, that i had a mother and that, naturally, i must return to her. they inquired her age and where she lived, and then agreed that it would be impossible for her to live alone, and that i was right, though they lamented the fact. then they told me their ages and asked mine, and we were all equally astounded; for they had regarded me as a very young thing, and i had put them all down as at least twelve years older than they were. i have no doubt that they were speaking the truth, and that it was the roughness of their lives that had so aged them, and monsieur was really not more than forty, and his wife forty-two. about nine o'clock the company from outside all left, having first stood up and crossed themselves and wished each other good-night ceremoniously. monsieur lit a tiny lantern, of which the glass was grimy, and led the way up the steps to the "molto bella camera." here there were three heaps of bedding in a row. "this," said he cheerfully, "is yours, this is my wife's, and this is mine." i had been quite albanian for some hours. now the west arose in me and would not be gainsaid. i murmured something about the other room. it was my host's turn to be scandalised now. horrified, he exclaimed, "the gentleman in there is not married!" and called for his wife. they talked it over, and then he kindly said that he and his wife could sleep with the other gentleman if i really preferred it; "but," he added, "you are not married, you will be all alone." then he gathered up the bedding in a bundle, they wished me good-night, and left me with a sackful of dried maize husks on two packing-cases, and a wadded coverlet. he returned almost immediately to ask if i should like a key, which, he said, was quite unnecessary. i reflected that if he meant to burgle me he would do so, key or no key, so i thanked him and said i was sure it was not needed. this gave him great pleasure, and he told me repeatedly that his house and all he possessed were mine. then he left me, and at once through the thin partition wall i heard three flops as the three lay down on their mattresses. i followed the albanian plan, curled up on the packing-cases as i was, and slept for nearly nine hours without stirring. when i woke, quite refreshed, the sun was streaming through the cracked shutters. i heard my neighbours shake themselves and issue forth, so i shook myself and issued forth too. monsieur, madame, and the gentleman-who-was-not-married were all flat on the floor blowing up the fire. they were enchanted to see me and hear i had had a good night, and shook hands enthusiastically. except that their hair was a little rougher, they looked just as they had the night before, but by the bright morning-light i saw that madame's dirty grey jacket was really purple silk with a silver pattern, and had once been very gorgeous. washing was my chief idea, and i told monsieur i should like some water. he replied the coffee would be ready in a minute. i said it was for my hands, so he fetched half a tumblerful and poured it over them. as they had not been washed for twenty-four hours, it made very little difference. i indicated a tiny tin basin. madame understood at once, and filled it for me. i took it to my room, and she followed. her delight and astonishment when she found i had taken the precaution of bringing soap with me were really beautiful, and the sponge was an article she had never seen before. she immediately called to her husband, and he and the gentleman-who-was-not-married hurried to see the sight. they danced with glee when they saw how the water ran out of the holes, and were all seized with a wild desire to try it. this i steadily refused to understand in any language. owing, indeed, to the scarcity of water and the quantity of spectators, the wash was hardly satisfactory. they forgot the sponge in the joys of seeing me brush my teeth. a tooth-brush was a complete novelty. monsieur, whose teeth were as white as a dog's, begged to be allowed to use it only for a moment, but just then the coffee opportunely boiled over, they rushed to the rescue, and i was saved. i was then reminded of the invitation to breakfast with the montenegrin kavass, and was hurried off to his house. in spite of his brave attire of the night before, his top-boots, his green embroidered coat, and his gold waistcoat, his mansion was only one degree more civilised than the albanian's. the ground floor was used as a shed. we ascended a step-ladder to the floor above, where he stood beaming, and conducted me at once to the bedroom. the outer room, or kitchen, was quite bare, with smoke-grimed rafters, and a heap of firewood and a few pots and pans in it. the fire blazed on the hearthstone in the corner, and his wife was making coffee. he introduced me to her, and told her that i was english and must have a large cup with milk in it. he swelled with pride about his knowledge of the english, and introduced me with ceremony to the company five men and a woman, who had, it seemed, all been invited to meet me. the top-boots, a rifle, a cartridge belt and a revolver hung on the wall, and of course the patron saint of the family. there were two iron bedsteads, a table, a chair or two, and a bench. i sat on the bench, and the albanian on one of the beds, which he admired very much. he then favoured the company with the details he had learned about me the night before--my age, my brothers and sisters, etc.--all of which appeared to interest them greatly, as did also the plan of adopting me as a daughter, which they strongly urged me to accept. the kavass, however, did not mean him to do all the talking, but fetched a key and unlocked the chest in which he kept his best clothes and other valuables. from this he extracted a good pair of laced-up boots and handed them to me with delight. they were stamped inside with the name of an english maker, and were nearly new. he had scarcely ever worn them, he valued them so--had bought them in constantinople for two pounds "sterline." they made quite an impression on the company, and i expressed my great joy at beholding them. his wife brought in the coffee, black for everyone but myself. mine was a large bowl full of boiled milk with a little coffee in it. the kavass showed it to the company and explained that, besides that, the english always ate a little piece of pig with an egg on it. this so fired the albanian's imagination that he leaped up with the intention of scouring the neighbourhood for fragments of pig, and i had some difficulty in checking the pig-chase. whatever was cooked for me i knew i should have to eat, and boiled milk and bread were at any rate safe. they all begged me to make a long stay at dulcigno. i could spend the evenings at their respective houses, and they would all be glad to see me. as, however, it was a fine day and the weather had lately been most unsettled, i determined to take advantage of it and ride to antivari while it was possible. i therefore thanked everyone, and said i should like a horse and guide that day at eleven o'clock. then an odd complication ensued, for they only knew turkish time, and by turkish time twelve o'clock is sunset, nor could i make them understand. they settled the matter, however, in the simplest way by saying that they would get the horse at once, and let it wait till i was ready. "two gentlemen," said the albanian, were also going to antivari, and as their private affairs were not urgent, they too would wait and accompany me when i pleased. so, everybody being satisfied, i thanked the kavass, shook hands all round, and went off to have a look at dulcigno by daylight. the bay, with the old town on the promontory and its venetian walls, is very beautiful. the town stretches down the valley and round the bay, and several mosque minarets tell of the turk. the mohammedan women here wear an odd and hideous great hooded cloak of coarse brown woollen stuff bound with red. in this they slink about like bogies, and the moslems, both men and women, have a furtive and rather ashamed appearance, very different from their swagger in skodra. in the old town, pieces of carving built into walls and well-hewn stones are all that is left of the venetian occupation: dulcigno fell into turkish hands in 1571, and though venice made two attempts to recapture it, turkish it remained. it was taken by the montenegrins in 1877, restored to the turks by the berlin congress, and finally handed over to montenegro by the powers in 1880. dulcigno has a fine bay, but as it is not yet connected with the interior by a decent road, there is not much done in the way of traffic. when i returned, i found a white pony and three men awaiting me. one was the guide, the others the "two signori" who, i had been told, were going my way; fearsome objects. both were cartridge-belted and be-weaponed, and looked like two half-moulted birds of prey perched each in a heap on the edge of the doorstep. they fixed me with their grey hawk's eyes and snorted when introduced. i went into the inn and asked for my bill. monsieur was coy about it. he looked me all over and considered how rich i was. then he said, would i think three francs too much? he was delighted when i paid it without a murmur, and thanked me repeatedly. i took a tender farewell. madame embraced me three times, and matters having gone so far, with a final effort at being albanian, i kissed her three times, shook hands with numerous stripey-legged gentlemen, tied my bags to my saddle, and mounted. the scenery was magnificent and the path bad. rock, rock, almost all the way, either very steep up or very steep down. the white pony climbed like a cat; all he bargained for was to have his head loose. i hitched the reins on the saddle peak and let him have his own way. the three albanians shot ahead, walking swiftly and silently with a long, swinging stride. neither the quality of the ground nor its steepness made any apparent difference to them, nor did they trouble about me in the least, and i often lost sight of them altogether, for one cannot hustle a horse over wet rock. nothing, however, bothered the white pony; he was used to heavier weights than myself. when we came to a series of smooth steep inclines, he simply spread out his legs and tobogganed in the neatest manner, gathering his hoofs together at bottom and starting down the next one so easily that i did not think it worth while to dismount. the country was almost uninhabited, though fertile and wooded. wherever cultivated, it appears to yield well. olives and figs flourish, and i noticed a few fields of flax. then below us the adriatic and the bay of antivari blazed blue, we zigzagged down a very steep hillside all loose stones, i saw the ruined town up the valley and the prince's palace upon the shore, and felt at home again. we reached the plain and a good road, and a carriage dashed round the corner at a smart trot with the archbishop in it. he waved and hailed me at once, and roared with laughter at my turn-out and escort, which would really have done admirably at home on guy fawkes day. the "two gentlemen" disappeared quite suddenly by a short cut to the town, without even a farewell snort, and i never saw them again. why they accompanied me at all i never fathomed. they may have conversed with my guide when they were ahead, in my presence they scarcely spoke a word even to each other. when we got to the cross roads, i turned the white pony prstan-wards, and was soon welcomed by maria in the little cottage on the beach. i had been told the ride was a six hours' one, and we had done it in six and a half, which was not bad. for the benefit of such travellers as wish to see dulcigno and who do not crave to understand the domestic arrangements of the albanians, i ought to add that it is possible to find decent rooms in private houses in the montenegrin part of the town. [illustration: montenegrin plough.] part ii of servia "the standing is slippery and the regress is either a downfall or at least an eclipse; which is a melancholy thing."--bacon. chapter x belgrade servia is only some thirty-six hours distant from london by rail, but for england it is an almost undiscovered country. nor do the other nations flock thither. i gathered this on my journey on the main line from agram to belgrade through the crown-lands of hungary, over endless plains and miles of floods. guards and ticket-collectors alike agreed in telling me that it was impossible for me to go to belgrade. "you will require a passport," they said. and when i said that i had one, they replied sadly, "it is probably not good." "belgrade," said an old lady in the corner, "and you are english! oh, then you are the new school inspector. you have come, have you not, from an english society to report on servian education? two other ladies have been already." "perhaps i shall meet them," i suggested. "oh no," said the old lady cheerfully; "that was when i was a girl. it was about 1864 that i saw them. naturally i thought you came for the same purpose!" as i had no mission from the government, she agreed with the guards that the expedition was impossible, and i was soon left alone in the carriage. as agram had refused to book me farther than semlin, i did not feel particularly cheery about it myself. semlin opined i was a governess, and made no difficulty about booking me on! the train crashed across the iron bridge over the save, and we arrived. it was half-past ten at night when i alighted in belgrade--alone, friendless, and knowing nothing of either country or people except what i had gathered from a few books, mostly not up to date. guide-book there is none, and a little of the language was all that i had to rely upon to see me through a strange land. the first servians i encountered were the two soldiers who take the passports, which have to be reclaimed next day. i grasped this fact and passed through, with some satisfaction, as i heard behind me the wrathful voices of several italians and germans who were fiercely refusing to part with their papers, and were being shouted at in servian. thinking it would wound their pride to be offered female british assistance, i left them to fight it out, and was the first, in consequence, to get through the "customs." then i rattled uphill through the dark deserted streets, where the night sentries with greatcoats and rifles were already on guard, and arrived at my hotel. my only letter of introduction was a failure, as the addressee was abroad; the british consul, whom i had been specially told to inform of my proceedings by the servian minister in london, had not yet arrived, and the secretaries at the british ministry were quite new. this is a fate that pursues me. when i arrive at a place for the first time, the powers that arrange such things always give the consul a holiday, or appoint a new one who has not yet learnt the language. but having never yet failed to find friends on my travels, i did not worry about my possible fate up country. several things began to happen at once. "where," said i to the waiter, when he brought me my coffee on the very first morning, "where am i likely to see the king and queen?" he looked at me with a peculiar expression. "you want to see our king?" he said. "you won't see him. he dare not come out of the konak. he is probably drunk," he added contemptuously. i made no remark, for there was none that it seemed expedient to make, and though i haunted the neighbourhood of the konak industriously, each time that i returned to belgrade, i never saw either king or queen. this was in the summer of 1902. belgrade (beograd = "the white city") is most beautifully situated. for a capital to be so placed that the enemy can shell it comfortably from his own doorstep is of course ridiculous, but for sheer beauty of outlook belgrade is not easy to surpass. perched on a hill, at the foot of which save joins danube, it commands westwards a wonderful expanse of sky and stream and willows, with a pale mauve distance of servian mountains, while opposite lie the rich plains of hungary and the little town of semlin. belgrade is a new town, a quite new town, and no longer deserves the name of "the white city," its general effect from a distance being dark; but the name is an old one, and "white" is a favourite servian adjective. it is a bright, clean town; the houses, seldom more than two storeys high, look solidly built; there are plenty of good shops, and the streets are wide and cheerful. it looks so prosperous and the inhabitants so very much up to date, its soldiers are so trim, its officers so gorgeous, and the new government offices are so imposing, that one is surprised to find that the country, owing to mismanagement, is financially in an almost desperate condition. there is little wheeled traffic in the streets, nor is this a wonder, for the pavement is indescribably vile. "ah, but you should have seen it in turkish times," say the servians, and they do not worry about it; for they have two lines of electric trams, and your servian is not a pedestrian. coming as i did, straight from cetinje, i spent the first few days in wondering whether the very dark, short people who crowded the trams of belgrade, for lack of energy to walk up the street, were really blood-relations of the long-legged giants who stride tirelessly over the crags of montenegro with never a sob. i never saw a servian who looked as if he took exercise because he liked it. neither did i ever see any attempt at an athletic sport. on the other hand, wherever i went, people expressed amazement that i could find any pleasure in travels that entailed so much exertion. i have never met folk that walked so slowly. i used to try not to pass people in the street, and vow it is as difficult as to win the slow bicycle race. an average serb seems to think two miles an hour sharp going; his ordinary pace i cannot pretend to estimate, and when he has nothing particular to do, which is often, he sits down and plays cards. in my whole life i do not think i have seen so many cards as i did in servia. in the cafés, hotels, and restaurants the soft slither and plap-plap of the painted pasteboards and the tap of the chalk as the players write the score goes on from morning till night, and forms a running accompaniment to every meal. when asked what struck me most on arriving in servia, i often referred to this habit, and astonished my questioners. "we are obliged to play cards," they said; "chess is too difficult, and we cannot afford billiard-tables." in public, very little money changes hands, it is merely a matter of a few coppers, a way of killing the time that hangs so heavily on their hands; for servia, in spite of the west european look of its capital, has not yet i learned to be in a hurry. card-playing has comprehensible attractions, but the servians are possessed of a quite original vice which is not likely to lead other folk astray. they drink too much cold water, and they drink it till they are pulpy. an average serb drinks enough cold water for an english cow. i doubt whether the language contains an equivalent for "bad training," for when i tried to explain the idea it created surprise. a doctor told me he had never heard the theory before. to him it seemed a natural and wholesome habit; moreover, he added, "there is plenty," and seemed to think it was rather wasteful to leave any unswallowed. to me it explained the lack of activity; the nation is water-logged. all day long and every day the serb calls for a glass of cold water, and when he has drunk it he calls for another. perhaps owing to this he has little space left for alcohol; at any rate, i never saw a drunken man, even amongst the peasants returning from market. belgrade, in fine weather, is a very agreeable town to do nothing in for a day or two. but its historic fortress, its beautiful garden, and the woods of topchider are all too well known to require describing. one mosque only, and that a dilapidated one, tells of the departed turk. the mass of the inhabitants (60,000) are orthodox serbs, and a colony of spanish-speaking jews lives in the low-lying quarter called dorchol. i think i saw the whole colony, from the tiniest beady-eyed baby to the stoutest grand-mamma, for they flocked to see me pass as though i were a coronation procession. unaware that a foreign woman travelling alone in servia was a unique event, i wished them "good day" cheerfully, and went my way. the "old konak," a rather mean-looking building painted a raw cream colour, and standing in a small garden with sentry boxes in front of it, has since acquired hideous fame. for in it, but a year later, did alexander's ill-starred reign come to its awful end. belgrade was so civil to me, there was such perfect order in the streets both by day and night, all was outwardly so quiet, that even now i find it hard to realise that that ugly yellow house has been turned into a shambles. that the king would have to leave and at no distant date was obvious, but i believed it would be by the usual route, and as i watched the swirly yellow save hurrying along below, i murmured, "there's one more river, one more river to cross." it is a marvel that servian rulers continue to dwell within sight of the save. it is the most "men-may-come-and-men-may-go" river in all europe. but in servia, though you may flee from the save, you can never lose sight of the political situation, which is a parlous one. servia is too small to stand quite alone. without, she is surrounded by austria, turkey, and bulgaria. the first is slowly squeezing her, preparatory to swallowing her whole, should a favourable chance arise; the second yet holds the heart of the old servian empire; and with the third servias quarrel dates from the seventh century. internally servia is torn by parties who differ as to which of the powers it is advisable to propitiate, and these parties dance to external wirepulling. things being as they are, it is small wonder that the serb suspects everyone that crosses his frontier and believes he has come for obscure political reasons. i entered servia cheerfully unaware of this, and soon learnt that the police were watching my movements. belgrade, like montenegro and dalmatia, took me for a russian, otherwise i neither knew nor cared whether belgrade thought about me at all. wishful of learning the language and of seeing things servian, i determined to go to the theatre, and in the old happy days, when i was as yet guileless and unsuspicious, i stopped and began to slowly decipher a playbill at a street corner. i had struggled through but little of it when i was approached by a policeman on duty, a picturesque personage in a brown uniform with red braiding. he touched his cap to me and said most politely in very fair french, "our language, mademoiselle, is very difficult for une anglaise. permit that i assist you," and proceeded to translate the bill. surprised and pleased, i asked myself, "which of our own bobbies could thus assist a foreigner?" and being accustomed to be called russian, i asked, "how did you know that i am english?" "oh," he replied cheerfully, "mademoiselle only arrived here on monday, and i, you see, am in the police. naturally i know. also the officer at the custom-house has stated that mademoiselle knows some of our language, and that is most unusual in a foreigner." as a freeborn british subject, i was considerably taken aback to find that the police were so well informed about me. immediately and rashly i said to myself, "when in rome do as the romans. i too can ask questions." there was something about the policeman that was oddly familiar; he was a tall fair man, quite unlike the short dark type that i was beginning to recognise as belgrade-servian. so i said to him, "yes, i am english. where do you come from? you are not a serb of servia." "ah no," he said, with a sigh; "i am far from my people. i come from a quite little place of which mademoiselle has never heard. i come from the neighbourhood of kolashin." this at once enlightened me. foolishly proud of my knowledge, i laughed and replied, "kolashin? oh yes, in montenegro, near the albanian frontier. you are crnagorach!" it was his turn to be astonished now, and he almost leapt with amazement. he broke into his native tongue. "you know my fatherland! you know my fatherland!" he cried in great excitement. "you have been there! have you seen my prince, our gospodar nikola? have you seen prince danilo? prince mirko? the princesses milena? militza? have you been to podgoritza? to ostrog?" etc. "yes, yes," said i to everything. "bogami! bogami!" (oh my god!), he cried. then he took a long breath, pulled himself together, and started a torrent of the most fluent french. "mademoiselle," he said, "i will tell you everything. i came from kolashin twelve years ago with a comrade. he also is a policeman; he is now in the next street. as soon as he arrived here he married a servian woman, and he has been unhappy ever since. i, mademoiselle, am unmarried. i detest these servian women. they are bad, mademoiselle, they are unfaithful! i would not take one on any account, and i cannot afford to go back to my own country for a wife. but you, mademoiselle, you are half montenegrin; you have the heart of a lion; you know my country; you have seen my prince; you speak my language! unfortunately, mademoiselle, i must remain in this street,"--here i mentally offered thanks to the powers that had rooted him to this spot, "but on sunday afternoon i shall be free. i shall come to take you out to topchider. we shall have something to eat; soon we shall become good friends; soon we will be married. i am a very good man, mademoiselle," here he smote his chest. "the british consul can learn all about me from my captain. _you_ can teach english in belgrade, and _we_ shall soon be very rich. but," he added very seriously, "you are staying at the grand hotel, a most expensive place! you must not stay there. i shall tell you of a much cheaper one, and on sunday we will go out together!" he paused, rather for want of breath, i fancy, than for a reply, the favourable nature of which he took for granted. i seized the opportunity. "thank you very much," i said, "but i am leaving belgrade to-morrow, and i have no time." "oh, but why, mademoiselle? you have only been here a week, and it is a so charming town! restes, je te prie, jusqu'à dimanche, jusqu'à dimanche!" "impossible!" i cried; "adieu, adieu!" and fled round the nearest corner. as i left for nish early next morning, i saw him no more, and on my subsequent return to belgrade dodged, with the speed of a pickpocket, whenever i saw a tall policeman looming in the distance. chapter xi smederevo--shabatz--valjevo--ub--obrenovatz smederevo from the danube is a most impressive sight. a huge brick fortress surrounds the promontory with castellated walls and a long perspective of towers; a grand mediæval building lying grim on the water's edge, a monument of servias death-struggle with the turks. built in 1432 by george brankovich, son of vuk the traitor of kosovo, it was servia's last stronghold, and its makers, in defiance of the crescent, built the cross in red bricks into the wall where, now the tide of invasion has at last ebbed, you may still see it. and all the nineteen towers still stand. having landed, and reflected that i could not escape for many hours, i walked up the main street and i prayed that the populace would prove friendly. it was--very. i had not gone far when i was marked by the policeman. he was much perturbed. he walked all round me at a very respectful distance, and discussed with everyone on the way what he had better do. finally he came up and asked me in servian, if i spoke it. "very little," said i, and volunteered that i was english, which caused him to call up reinforcements. by this time a fair audience was collected, for the hope of seeing some one "run in" will gather a crowd anywhere. having ascertained that i understood german, he called up a man to speak to me. the man, pleased with the importance he was gaining, poured out a long string of mysterious noises which resembled no known tongue. then he turned to the policeman and said, in servian, "she doesn't know german." the policeman was in despair, and so was the populace. "speak servian slowly," i said. "where do you come from?" "london." "where are your friends?" "in england." "what are you doing?" "i have come to see servia." this pleased him very much. "have you any brothers?" "yes." "where are they?" i supplied the information and other family details. finally he summed up the evidence, and imparted to the surrounding multitude the information that i had come all alone to see servia and the servians. this, he said, was "very good." he touched his cap and smiled affably, and the assembly broke up. all this amused me, but i lived to see the day when these interviews became a weariful burden. i had luckily hit on the day of a great cattle and pig fair. the open space between town and fortress was filled with peasants and their beasts, great grey draught oxen, sheep, horses, goats, and, above all, the staple product of servia, pigs. the servian pig is a great character. he rules indeed large tracts of country. he is cared for, tended, and waited upon. i have seen a large sow walking with dignity down the middle of the road, followed by a number of human retainers, each carrying one of her piglets like a baby in arms, while she set the pace, stopped to grubble at anything that interested her, and looked back from time to time with her beady little eyes to see that her infants were being properly cared for. here in the market the pigs were the most important personages present, and knew it. they are great woolly beasts, some of fair complexion, beautifully curly as to their backs. their snouts are long and unringed. being of a highly practical nature, the first thing they did on arriving at the market field was to dig themselves cubby-houses. those that were lucky enough to find a hole full of water sat in it, and were supremely happy. some quite small mud-holes were packed with pigs lying on the black ooze and crammed together like sardines in oil. all talked incessantly. there were hundreds of tender babes wandering about, but the families never got mixed. the little ones are longitudinally striped, like young wild boars, and very elegant. their mothers found mud-holes if possible, and the children sank in up to their eyes. all were extremely tame. if the owner of a pig family wished to shift camp, he strewed a few beans to start them with, and the whole lot followed, conversing cheerfully, and rearranged themselves neatly whenever he chose to sit down again. the mud-coated ones lay and baked in the sun, like live pork pies, till their mud casing was hard and bricky. while i was absorbed in pigs, a gentleman came up, took off his hat, and launched me into the language again. he knew a very little french, and with that and servian extracted the same information as the policeman had done. but he went farther. "had i been into the fortress?" was his next. i have a great respect for frontier fortresses in all parts of the world, and it had not occurred to me to do more than examine it from a distance. "it is the only thing to see here; i will take you over it," he said. i gratefully accepted the offer, imagining the place was now public like the fortress of belgrade, and we approached the gate and were saluted by the sentry, who made no objection. passing in, i found to my astonishment that it was full of soldiers, and very much the reverse of a public promenade. my friend, who seemed to be a well-known person, asked the first private we met for the commandant. "the commandant," he said, "is over there, with the artillery." off we started in search of him, and were soon hotly pursued by an apologetic soldier, who explained that no foreigners were admitted. i suggested retreating, but my escort would not hear of it, and, quite undaunted, took me over to a party of very smart officers who were sitting at a table under some trees. to them he introduced me with a flourish. they leapt to their feet, made most elegant bows, and were all struck dumb with amazement. my friend then persisted that, as i was english and had come so far, i ought to be shown the fortress. none of them could speak anything but servian, and were very shy. i said all i could to them in answer to their questions and tried to say good-bye, as it was obvious that their orders did not allow them to take foreigners round. moreover, it did not seem to me that there was anything of further interest to me to be seen. i was inside and had a good view of the huge walls and towers, the great open space they surrounded, and the rough irregular masonry they were built of. to send for the commandant, as my friend urged, seemed absurd. i got up to go. however, after a whispered debate, the officers asked me if i would like to see the view from the walls, and one of them volunteered to take me. he hustled me with elaborate care quickly and guiltily past the artillerymen, who were taking a gun to pieces, and must have been inventing horrible secrets. poor things! they might have explained it all to me without my being any the wiser. i remembered dreyfus, and could scarcely help laughing at the ridiculous position i had managed to get into. the wall was soon ascended, and the view over the danube certainly very fine, but i felt sure i ought to depart, so skipped quickly down again; but the poor officer in spurs took a long while arriving at the bottom. we returned to the gate, and i endeavoured to thank him; he shook hands in an elaborate manner, saluted, and i emerged from george brankovich's great fort, which has been besieged by servian, turk, and hungarian, but never before, i believe, surprised by the english. my friend kept repeating, "you are english, and they ought to have shown it you," and was very much vexed. smederevo has no other sights, and shabatz on the save was my next experiment in towns. it can be reached by a local boat from belgrade, also by rail. let no one, however, be persuaded into taking the train unless he wishes to realise thoroughly, once and for all, the joys of living upon a hostile frontier. the train journey was an hour and a half shorter than that by boat, and i imagined that to book from one town to another in the same country was a simple matter, though i was aware that the frontier had to be crossed, so i walked cheerfully down to the station. i asked for a ticket to shabatz, and was, as a result, immediately conducted to the station police bureau, where a youth in a light blue coat was busily stamping passports and inquiring into every-one's past and future existence. my advent upset the dull current of everyday routine. i said i wanted to go to shabatz, thinking to smooth matters down, but it only created more excitement. the pale blue youth put everything aside in order to fathom the mystery of my movements. servian frontier police are funny and amusing people. they spare no pains to unravel plots; i hope they will find one some day as a reward for their efforts. if, instead of only myself, there had been say forty or fifty tourists in servia, the entire land would possibly have been disorganised, trains delayed, criminals left unarrested, and burglaries committed, while the police officials were straining every nerve to ascertain the number of brothers and sisters, and past, present, and future actions of the visitors! i did my best to assist their plans, and have in fact provided them with the materials for a fairly accurate biography of myself, should one ever be required. its excessive dulness went a long way towards soothing their agitated nerves. pressure of business forced the pale blue youth to stamp my passport and let me go while his appetite for details was yet unsatisfied, and i hastened to buy a ticket for shabatz. this was impossible. i could only book across the river to semlin. by this time i was really interested in frontier existence, and began to regard the trip as a sporting event. feeling righteous and bold as a lion, being armed with a stamped passport and a ticket, i walked down the platform only to be stopped short by sentries. the pale blue youth from the office came flying up. having hurried up through his business, he intended learning a little more about me while yet there was time. as he spoke nothing but his native tongue and was fluent and excited, we did not get on very well; but i imparted my proposed plan of seeing servia to him, and he stood on the step of the carriage till the train started. hardly were we off when another officer turned up. he took the passport and wrote my name in a little book, but had unfortunately no time to ask more than three or four questions. at semlin we were quite busy. first we went through the customs, and then we had to go and find our passports. the stout and smiling police official selected mine, and without venturing to pronounce my name cried, "the english one." more conversation, this time in german. i told him that i had made nine journeys with that passport without its ever being looked at, and now it had been stamped twice in an hour. this pleased him, and he pointed out that it showed how superior the hungarian police are to those of other nations. then i re-booked, and learned that i had to change trains! my fellow-passengers dazed me with magyar. they none of them agreed as to where i must change, but were all convinced that i had been wrongly informed by the railway guard, and when i arrived at last on the banks of the save and saw the ferry-boat, i felt as if i were returning to a well-known and civilised land. even servian is better than magyar. hurrying to the boat, i was checked suddenly by crossed rifles. magyar again. as i could not understand a word, i was conducted between the rifles to a police bureau hard by. here it was explained that i had endeavoured to evade the sentries. i was regarded with extreme suspicion, and the officer assumed a fine air of standing no nonsense. he poured out a torrent of magyar. as i did not understand him, but wished to convey the idea that it is a waste of time to try to scare british subjects, i laughed, held out my passport, and said "good morning" in four languages. of course he chose the worst, servian, and as he had apparently never seen an english passport before, said it was not correct. so bad did he consider it, in fact, that had i been coming into hungary, he would have detained me if possible; as i was only going out of it into an enemy's country, he had not so many qualms about letting me loose. he began to inscribe me as "salisbury" in the police-book, and was annoyed when corrected. then he required my age, which i truthfully stated. finally i held up my fingers for him to reckon it up on, but, for reasons best known to himself, he preferred to put it down according to his own fancy, some years too young, and did so defiantly, with the air of a man who will not let himself be taken in. he tried to get my home address, but gave it up as too much for him. at last he stamped the passport, and told me to be quick. i dashed on board, and the boat started. the transit only takes some five minutes, but the passengers and crew found time to interview me, and then huddled up at the other end of the boat, presumably to show the servian police they were not mixed up in the affair. shabatz had lately had a revolution. an enterprising personage disguised as a general had, not many weeks before, crossed the stream and had called out the police and garrison with a view--rather a confused one, i believe--of causing them to do something in favour of prince peter karageogevich. the imposture being discovered, he found himself at the wrong end of a revolver, where he speedily expired; but shabatz had not yet got over its surprise, and as it could not read my passport, thought it best, though i was not really disguised as a general, to be careful. i had only hand luggage with me, but this had four books in it, which i was told had to be examined, and "if in a foreign language, a reason must be given for importing them." the fact that they were all dictionaries, however, caused so much amusement that i got happily through. i was in shabatz at last. before they drown, people are said in a few moments to live through a lifetime. it was only four and a half hours since i had left belgrade, but into that short time had been compressed the experiences of a whole continental tour. i had encountered three languages, studied the peculiarities of two nations, been in four police bureaus, two custom-houses, three trains and a boat, and bought two tickets in two coinages; all very amusing for once in a way, but hardly a good way of encouraging traffic on the line. without these games the journey could be done in a couple of hours. they are, however, absolutely necessary, the servians assured me, on account of the extreme wickedness of the hungarians. the hungarians, on their part, were the first to begin, and were, they tell me, driven to it by the depravity of all nations except themselves. the hungarians, according to themselves, suffer a great deal for righteousness' sake. shabatz, when i had run the frontier gauntlet successfully, received me very kindly; for the servian, when not soured by politics, is a most kindly creature. the town was quite accustomed to english tourists, for it had had no less than two in the last six years, but i was told that i was the first lady of any nationality that had ever toured round alone. servia had, in fact, not been aware that it was possible for a lady to do so. i was not at all pleased to learn this, as i knew that, in the future, wherever i went i should be an exciting event, and from the detailed account i received of the proceedings of the two fellow-countrymen who had visited shabatz in recent times, i foresaw that all that i did would be considered typically english for the next twenty years. shabatz, however, was very pleased with my plan, as it showed i knew the country was safe and displayed great confidence in the inhabitants. mad though my proceedings were undoubtedly considered, they gave servia the opportunity of showing she was trustworthy, and she rose to the occasion. shabatz opined that i was "emancipated," but thought that now england had a king instead of a queen, the liberty of women would probably be curtailed. all servian towns are much alike. they have wide, clean streets; solid red-roofed little houses built of stone; a church which is unlovely, for the modern serb has no gift for church architecture; a school, which is often a handsome and very well-fitted building; a town hall, or something more or less equivalent to one; and a market-place. the houses in the suburbs all stand in their own gardens, and there are plenty of clipped acacias in the streets. and in every town a few tumbledown timber shops and shanties are almost all that is left of turkish times. shabatz is no exception to the general rule, and i left early next day for valjevo. it was a ten and a half hours' drive in a burning sun and a cloud of white dust, through miles of very fertile and most english-looking country, with english hedges, english oak trees, and english post and rail fences. my first experience of travelling inland in servia was a very fair sample. there were days when i sighed for the drivers of montenegro and their wiry ponies, but i always reflected that it was the servians that i had come to see and that i was seeing them. the montenegrin is always anxious to get to the journey's end, but the servian never seems to care whether he arrives or not, provided he can get enough black coffee on the way. he slugs along, takes innumerable rests, and is disappointed if you won't go to sleep in the middle of the day at a way-side inn. nothing hurries him up; he looks at his watch and says it isn't dark yet, and lets the horses stand still while he rolls his hundredth cigarette. the horses are like the driver, and seldom trot unless urged to, though they are generally in fair condition. but the average servian does everything in a leisurely manner, and horses and driver but follow the national fashion. i thought at first i was being taken along slowly because i was a foreigner, but i found that when i had native fellow-travellers we went slower still. though my driver was a slug, he was always a very amiable and honest one, and he more than once offered to pay for my drinks. valjevo is a large town (20,000 inhabitants), very prettily situated in well wooded country. everyone was anxious to forward my plans. one gentleman most kindly made me out a tour for the whole of east servia, drew me a map, and wrote the distances and fares upon the roads. servia just now has a bad reputation in england; i owe it to servia to say that in no other land have i met with greater kindness from complete strangers. valjevo is a smart place, lighted by electric light. the crowd of fashionable ladies and swagger officers who were listening to the military band in the park would not have looked out of place in the rue de rivoli or the row. my new acquaintances were delighted to hear that i had learnt servian in london. when i said that my teacher was a pole, their joy was dashed, but they agreed that it was better than if i had learned from "a dirty schwab" (_i.e_. german). the idea that the whole of london had to depend on one pole for instruction did not seem right to them. five million people in london and only one pole to teach them! that pole must be very rich! they were anxious to export native teachers at once, but i assured them that the pole had all the pupils. valjevo is a garrison town, and this brings us to the subject of the servian army. there is, of course, compulsory military service; this is for two years (with six years in the reserve), and is under the circumstances very necessary; moreover, to servia the army means old servia, and old servia is yet to be redeemed. but self-defence is one thing and the military tournament another, and to the non-military outsider it appears that much of servia's money is spent upon outward show, and that she is like one that walketh in silk attire and lacketh bread. endeavouring to make a brave show in the eyes of europe, she is being eaten out of house and home. she builds a noble war office, and has not the wherewithal to pay her officers; and while she masquerades like the great powers, the resources of the land, as they are at present, are strained almost to breaking point. though inland servia cries for capital and would pay good interest on it, servia puts her money into military display. i have seen few armies more smartly uniformed. "tommy" is very fine; but his officers are gorgeous. there seems no end to them; every garrison town--and that means every frontier town of importance and a good many inland ones--is filled with them. surely no land was ever so hopelessly over-officered. one wonders if there are privates enough to go round. i was told, on good authority, that there are more officers in training in the military schools of servia than in those of our own country. not all, however, that glitters is gold, as i learnt at a garrison town that shall be nameless. i arrived late, tired and hungry, at the inn. the innkeeper and his wife were most anxious to accommodate me to the best of their ability, and called in the local money-changer to act as interpreter. the fame of my arrival spread like lightning through the place. scarcely had the money-changer and the innkeeper left me alone, when a captain, in his anxiety to have first chance, introduced himself to me in such an impertinent manner that i had to speak to him very severely, and he fled covered with confusion. next morning early came the money-changer. he said the innkeeper was very much vexed, and feared that i had been annoyed by one of the officers; which one was it? i did not know, as they all looked alike to me, and a whole lot of them were having coffee at the other end of the room; so i said, "it was a tall ugly one, very ignorant and very young; i will say no more about it, because he knew no better." the money-changer grinned, and i felt sure that the remark would be repeated. then he said, indicating the uniformed group, "it is very unfortunate that it should have occurred, for these gentlemen wish to speak to you, and they have asked me about you." "why?" said i. he grinned again. "you do not understand them," he said. "it is true they are very ignorant, but they are perfectly honest. you need not be afraid. ils ne désirent pas vous dire des choses sales, _seulement_ ils désirent vous marier! it is such a chance as has scarcely ever occurred. and someone-avich has an english wife! she is _very_ happy. what shall i tell them?" "tell them i have no money," said i. "that is no use," said he; "what you call not rich, they call wealth. perhaps what you spent coming here even would be enough for a 'dot.'" "that is spent," i remarked. "but you have some to return with." "oh, tell them i don't want to marry them," i said, rather vexed, for the man stuck so fast to the point that i began to think he had been promised a percentage on the deal. he laughed. "oh, that is no use; ces messieurs are so handsome they believe that you would think differently if you would only speak to them." i tried again. "well, tell them my money cannot come out of england." "oh," he replied, "ces messieurs don't mind where they live; they will leave the servian army and live in england--or america. perhaps mademoiselle lives with her father and mother? they wouldn't mind that at all." the idea of "them"--for it seemed "they" had to be taken wholesale--arriving at my suburban residence was too much for me, and i roared with laughter. he looked at me, saw his percentage was hopeless, then he roared also. "well," he said, "now i'll explain. i'm not ignorant, like they are. i've been in egypt and malta and gibraltar. i've met hundreds of english ladies travelling as you are, and i know how funny this must appear to you. i'll tell you how it is for them. they have sixty or seventy pounds a year, and not one of them has been paid for six months. they play cards with the trades-people in hopes of winning enough to buy tobacco. i do wish you would point out to me the one that spoke to you last night; i think it is perhaps the one i lent ten francs to yesterday. the innkeeper is very pleased to see you, because he knows you will pay. when these poor boys get their pay, it will all be taken from them at once for their debts. that is the situation. then you come, as it were from the heavens! they hear you are english. it is seen at once you have no ring on your finger. it is evident, then, that you hate all englishmen. on the other hand, you like servia, or why should you have come? my god! they think, what a chance! not twice in a hundred years! but one of them was undoubtedly too hasty." he went on to inform me that a very nice one could be had for about forty pounds a year. i gazed upon the enemy's entrenchment, decided that i was hopelessly outnumbered and that flight was the only way, mobilised my force of one man and two horses, and retired in good order while yet there was time, slightly humiliated by the feeling that britain was flying from a foreign army, but bowing graciously to such of its representatives as were kind enough to salute as i passed. and as i left and passed through the rich valleys and grassy uplands, and thought of the many kind friends who had helped me on my way, i was grieved that a land with so many possibilities and so much that is good and beautiful in it should be brought, by bad government, to such a pass that the officers are reduced to hawking themselves upon the streets. but all this i was to learn later. at valjevo i merely looked at the officers and admired. my journey to obrenovatz, the next town on my route, was amusing, as i shared a carriage with a "commercial," a jew who among other things was agent for a life-insurance company. he was on his return journey, and we halted from time to time at various houses, that he might, if possible, reap the results of the seeds he had sown on his outward march. everywhere he preached the benefits of life insurance. he suggested at last that i should insure for the sake of my fiancé! when i said i hadn't one, he saw a fresh opening for business. he had, he said, married his own daughter extremely well. he enlarged upon the highly successful nature of his own marriage, and told me about someone-avich who had married an english wife who is exceedingly happy. finally, worn out by his fruitless exertions, he fell asleep. at eleven we put up at ub, and i had plenty of time to amuse myself. sitting on the bench by the inn door, i made folded paper toys for the children, and soon had a semicircle of tiny boys round me. a little gipsy girl looked on at them with superb contempt. as soon as they had cleared off, she sailed up and seated herself by my side with the air of one conferring a favour. she was a slip of a thing, nine years old, but with the self-possession of fifty. "i am ciganka" (gipsy), she said. "where do you come from?" i told her, but she had never heard of my native land. she was brown as a berry, and had on nothing but a dirty old scarlet frock which had shed its fastenings. she dangled her skinny brown legs and fixed me with her sparkling black eyes; her hair, she told me, was far superior to my own; in proof of her words, she took off the yellow handkerchief in which her head was swathed and offered for inspection a small and most filthy plait of coal-black hair in which were fastened three or four coins, which she pointed out with glee. it was, in fact, the savings bank in which she had just opened an account. i at once produced a nickel 2d., which she accepted with much satisfaction. a man on the next bench threw down a cigarette end, and she pounced on it like a cat on a mouse. when she returned with it, she looked cautiously round to be sure that no one else could see, and then, sheltered by my skirts, she extracted from inside her frock a handkerchief tied up in a bundle, and displayed with great pride a mass of cigarette ends and other valuables. i duly admired; the new one was added to the collection, and it was all stowed away again with great precaution. then she tried to look unconscious. muttering something i didn't understand, she peeped in at the inn door. the floor was richly strewn with cigarette ends. she slipped in and crept round the room swiftly and silently. the lady of the inn and most of the other people saw her quite well; i don't think they had the least objection to her clearing the floor of rubbish. she preferred, however, to consider it as a dangerous raiding expedition, dashed from cover to cover quite scientifically, collecting as she went, and sneaked out again with her spoils, the spirit of all her horse-stealing ancestors twinkling in her eyes. she displayed her loot to me, for she took it for granted that i was a sympathetic soul; and as there is reason to believe that one of my forefathers sold horses in queen elizabeth's reign, it is possible that we may have had ideas in common. by the time the carriage and my travelling companions were ready, i had interviewed several other people, and felt quite at home in ub. it was hot on the road. both the "commercial" and the driver felt it very much, and stopped at all the wells and drank quantities of cold water, and as a natural consequence perspired a great deal. when they had had seven or eight drinks to my one, they began to get anxious about me, and when they found i had been playing about the streets of ub instead of going to sleep as they had both done, they were still more astonished, and foretold that by the time i reached obrenovatz i should be exhausted. we arrived there safely, however, at about 2.30 without my expected collapse. obrenovatz was fearfully excited by my arrival, and produced a commercial (a hungarian) who spoke english, in order to extract a full and particular account of me. my fame had flown before me, for he had seen me a few days ago in shabatz, had gleaned a few facts about me, and obrenovatz had already learned that there was an engleskinja loose in the land, though it had not hoped to see me. when i went out for a walk, all obrenovatz stood at the door to see. such notoriety was embarrassing. however, i succeeded in concealing my feelings so effectually that in the evening the conversation turned mainly on the cold-bloodedness of the english nation. nothing surprised them! nothing upset their equanimity! "fish blood," they said, "fish blood and steel!" and the insurance agent recounted how i had only had one drink on the road and had remained quite cool all the day, though he and the driver felt the heat badly; here he gave an unnecessarily realistic description of the state of his shirt. obrenovatz is remarkable for nothing but its hot sulphur springs and its well-arranged bath house, where it hopes to work up a rheumatism cure. i returned to belgrade by boat, nor, save the floating watermills and the timber rafts that drift from the forests of bosnia and servia down the drina to the save and thence to the danube, is there much to see upon the river. chapter xii nish from belgrade to nish, down the valley of the morava, the mark of the turk is still upon the land, and a minaret tower shoots up from more than one little town by the rail-side. the train rushes into stalacs, where the two moravas join, and we are on the track of recent fighting--fighting that we can all remember; we are in the valley which was the scene of poor milan's unsuccessful attempts, when in 1876 he resolved to take his part in that uprising against the turks which had already been begun by the herzegovinians. near alexinatz we cross servia's old frontier, and enter the land that was turkish twenty-five years ago. i arrived at nish, and found myself in a new and more oriental servia. nish, like other places, was surprised to see me. the hotel hoped i was leaving to-morrow, as it feared the police, and got more and more nervous about harbouring me as i stayed on. nevertheless, i liked nish. its position on the highways both to bulgaria and turkey make it strategically and commercially important, and it is gay with soldiers and with peasants from all the surrounding districts. the turk has not yet quite left; closely-veiled women shuffle furtively down the streets, and both men and women have an apologetic and subdued appearance, very different from the swagger of the mohammedan on the other side of the frontier. the new servian town lies one side of the river nishava, and the old turkish one and the big fortress upon the other. i saw nish at its best, for i had the good luck to light upon a great fair and cattle market, and spent the day wriggling between buffaloes' horns and horses' heels, with a dense crowd of strange folk and their wares, who trailed into the market field in a ceaseless stream from early dawn. the buffalo is the favourite draught animal here, a villainous-looking beast with a black indiarubber hide, a sprinkling of long bristles, a wicked little eye, and heavy back-curved horns; but his appearance belies him, he seems extremely tame, and grunts amiably when scratched. goats, sheep, pigs, horses, and cattle, all were equally tame, having been probably all brought up with the family, which was a good thing, as they were none of them penned, and the greater number not even tied up. their owners were just as friendly, and showed me everything. a mounted patrol rode round at intervals, but did not seem necessary; good-nature and friendliness prevailed everywhere. there was plenty of food both for man and beast. the hot-sausage man ran about with his goods in a tin drum. the cake man sold his from a large wooden tray placed on a tripod. the roast-meat man brandished his knife over an impaled lamb roasted whole, which sent up a rich odour and oily swirls of steam in the sunshine. under little huts, built of leafy beech branches, cooks were grilling bunches of peacock's feathers, and tufts of feathery grass to their bodices and white head-dresses, already a-sparkle with coins and dingle-dangles. the peasants took to me quite naturally, and offered me young pigs and buffaloes without any idea of the difficulty i should have in getting them home. [illustration: servian peasants.] the officer, however, in charge of the hut in the kebabs on long skewers, over a heap of charcoal embers; there was a great run on iced lemonade, and a crowd was always waiting its turn at the well. the women were extraordinarily gaudy; not content with their brilliantly orange or scarlet sashes and white dresses, they pinned great bouquets of flowers, middle where the market tolls were paid, was much mystified. "mademoiselle doubtless speaks french?" he asked politely. "yes," i said. "then please tell us from what land you come," he begged, "for we cannot imagine. mademoiselle is perhaps russian?" he hazarded. "no, english," said i. "bogami! is it possible? english, and in nish! where are your friends?" "in england." "you are alone in servia? bogami, mademoiselle, but you have courage!" "oh no, i haven't," said i, "only i am english." then he laughed and repeated my remark to his friends, and they all appeared to be highly amused. i went on, "besides, monsieur, your country is doubtless civilised?" "perfectly," said he, "perfectly; there is no danger, but no one knows it. how have you learned this in england? we are a balkan state, and all the world believes the balkan states are wicked. if i can assist you in any way, pray command me." i told him i was not needing help and thanked him for the offer. "no," said he gallantly, "it is we who owe thanks to you, for you pay us a great compliment." he saluted and withdrew, and i returned to my quest after things old-world and servian. a man was driving wire hooks into wooden bats, and his wife squatted near and carded wool with them with great dexterity to show how well they worked, and not far off a great trade was going on in big wooden chests, rough-made boxes on legs, pegged together with wood, stained crimson and decorated with a scratched curly pattern that showed white on the coloured ground. and the gipsies were selling troughs and bowls of prehistoric simplicity hacked and dug out of chunks of wood without much attempt at symmetry, and very thick and clumsy. the horse market was very full. there were some showy little beasts whose outstanding plumy tails and slim legs showed their eastern blood. a tall snaky albanian was riding them bare-backed, and held only by a halter, through the thick of the crowd. he rode slowly along till he had bored a passage of sufficient length, then turned suddenly and came back _ventre à terre_. every bare space of ground was used to gallop horses across, and it was a case of a cloud of dust, a hammer of hoofs, and everyone for himself. at midday and past, when the sun blazed overhead, the air was thick with dust and rich with billy-goats, and the bulls were roaring and the stallions squealing insults at each other, the people who had finished eating hot sausages in the sun thought it an admirable opportunity for beginning to dance. the bagpipe man appeared, and struck up at once one of the odd monotonous airs for the "kolo"; men and women joined in a long line, each holding the next at arm's length by the sash, and were soon serpentining in and out and round and round, surrounded by a suffocating crowd of lookers-on. the albanian was showing off a roan stallion, a red-hot beast, which he managed beautifully almost entirely by his knees. its apparent docility tempted a young officer to mount. he picked up the curb, drove in his spurs, and in another moment the squealing, plunging animal was in mid-air, over the dancers. the scattering was great, the roan appearing at intervals high above the crowd. no one was hurt, the interruption was only temporary, but the roan did not change hands that time at any rate. nothing will stop a servian from dancing the kolo. all the animals had been supplied with green forage, for the servians are kind and careful of their beasts, and now the draught oxen were being taken in detachments to the river to drink. as each pair of oxen returned from watering, it was yoked and set off on its homeward journey, till there was a processional frieze all along the road. the market slowly dissolved, and by four o'clock there was not much of it left but débris on the field. nish is a bright and attractive town, with about 20,000 inhabitants. two slim minarets show that it was once mohammedan, and a fat new church, bloated with cupolas, proclaims its orthodoxy. the buffalo carts in the streets, the variety of peasant costume, the wild luxuriance of crimson roses in the park, the pretty wooden trellis bridge over the river, the number of houses still remaining with screened windows, the silver filigree workers and the veiled women give it picturesqueness and a dash of the orient; but you must not tell it so, unless you wish to hurt its feelings. if a long pedigree be a claim to respect, nish deserves much; for nish, as naissus or nissa, existed before servia, and quite early in the christian era was a considerable town in upper moesia. it claims to be the birthplace of constantine the great, and the claim is very generally admitted. constantine's mother, the celebrated st. helena, the discoverer of the true cross, was the daughter of an innkeeper at naissus, while his father was of "illyrian" blood. i looked with interest at the albanians who cantered through nish with a lot of half-broken ponies, and with interest also upon the stout daughter of the inn, but i did not feel that either were destined to disturb the balance of europe. nish was part of the kingdom of stefan nemanja in the twelfth century, and servian it remained till the turks took it in 1375. though not freed till 1878, nish made a gallant struggle for liberty in 1809, when the general uprising was taking place--all the characteristics of which are now being repeated in macedonia. the "chela kula" (tower of skulls), on the pirot road, is a grim monument of the times. a little servian stronghold near this spot, commanded by stefan sindjelich, resisted successfully for a short while. then the turks brought up a large force and "rushed" the place. as the turkish soldiery were pouring in, sindjelich seeing all was lost, fired his pistol into the powder magazine and blew up self, friend, foe, and the whole place in one red ruin. the turkish losses were very heavy, and the pasha, enraged at losing so many men over such a hole of a place, commemorated his costly victory in a manner most hateful to the vanquished. he ordered the heads of the dead serbs to be collected, paying twenty-five piastres apiece for them, and obtained over nine hundred. these were embedded in rows in a great tower of brick and cement, the faces staring horribly forth, till the flesh rotted and nothing but the bare skulls remained. from time to time these were removed and buried by patriotic servians, but the ruins of the tower still stand to tell of turkish vengeance and to keep alive the hatred of the two races. by order of king alexander obrenovich, a chapel has been built over it. four skulls yet stare from the sockets where the turk placed them. an inscription in several languages tells of sindjelich's heroism. a polite young officer, reeking with carbolic from the military hospital hard by, admitted me to the chapel, and doubted which language to point to. i need hardly say english was not one of them, for in europe except in the most beaten of tracks english is one of the least useful languages. as soon as it was known in nish that i was english i was asked to go to someone's office to translate an english business letter. "it is impossible to trade with england," said the man; "many of their goods are better than those of austria, but they will not write in a language that we can understand. we wrote them in french, and begged them to reply in either french or german. they have replied for the second time in english. this is the first and last time that i do business with england." i, of course, went to the office at once, but was too late. the letter had just been posted to belgrade for translation. this i gathered was a fair sample of the proceedings of british traders in this country. the profits that are to be made in the poverty-stricken states of the balkans are not great, but such as they are they are all swept up by the ubiquitous austrian bagman. nish tries hard to be western, but, as i walked about it, i grinned to think of the man who had written in english to it even the hotel has so many peculiarities that the solitary traveller from the west is well amused observing them. like other hotels, it provides beds and drinks and food, but the latter also flows in freely from the streets, and the hotel does not seem to care from whom you buy. all day long the bread-roll man runs in and out with his basket; or two or three bread-roll men, if there is much company. the servians rarely seem tired of eating rolls, and eat them all day long. next in frequency to the bread man is the salad man, with a tray of lettuces and a big bunch of onions. the cake man does a good trade in the afternoon. but the oddest of all is the hot-stew man. he appears in the evening with a large tin drum slung round his neck, in which is an enamelled iron soup tureen. such a cloud of steam rolls out when he lifts the lid that i think there must be heating apparatus in the drum, but he wears it next his stomach and does not appear unduly warm. the pockets of his white apron are full of not over-clean plates, and a formidable array of knives and forks bristles about the drums edge. his customers take a plate and clean it with their handkerchiefs, serviettes, or the tablecloth, and then select tit-bits from the pot, and the man returns later and removes the plate, knife and fork, when done with. if you do not care for stew, there is the hot-sausage man, whose wares look singularly unattractive; and, lastly, there is a man who sells very dry nuts. except for wine and beer, you can get your whole meal from wandering caterers; the supply seems unfailing. servian food and cooking, i may here note, is on the whole very good. it is peppery and flavoursome; mint, thyme, and other herbs, and the very popular "paprika" (a mild variety of red pepper), are largely used, and the soups are meaty and nourishing. a fourpenny plate of kisela chorba (soup with lemon juice in it) often includes half a fowl, and is enough for a meal. having explored the town and seen all the shops, i wandered about and waited for people to do something servian, nor had i long to wait. servia is striving to be western and striving to be up to date, and this is the side she shows to the world from which she was for so long cut off. in her heart she cherishes old, old customs, whose origins are lost in dim antiquity, and one of these is the commemorative funeral feast when we wander through the outskirts of pompeii or visit the tombs on the latin way, we look at the stone benches and recall vaguely that the romans here held banquets in honour of the dead; but the banqueters are dead and buried and the feasts forgotten. it all belongs to a distant past and is hard to realise, it seems so far away. but the christian church in early days adopted many of the existing rites and ceremonies of pagan times, and the orthodox church has clung tightly to its old traditions. so much so that the orthodox church of to-day is said to bear far stronger resemblance to the church of the fourth or fifth century than do now the churches of either england or rome. and from the time of the turkish invasion till the nineteenth century the mass of the people of the balkans stood still and had no communication with the outer world. the macedonian peasant still sacrifices sheep on ancient altar stones, and the servian reads the funeral feast in the christian graveyard. quite early in the morning solemn little parties of women and children were walking down the streets carrying big baskets and trays covered with clean white cloths; i followed, and we crossed the railway line and turned to the cemetery on the hillside. round the gates sat the lame, the aged, and the blind; each with his wooden bowl, his bottle gourd and bag. "a bagge and a bottle, he bar bi his seyde," sang langland in england in the fourteenth century; thus did the folk of piers plowman gather alms. within the gates, in the big graveyard, through the long thick grass and by the rose-tangled headstones went each little party to the grave it sought, and the wailing of the death-songs arose on every side. the women brought little girls with them and taught them how to honour the dead. they lighted little beeswax tapers stuck into the grave, and they filled a green earthen pot with incense and lighted that too. then they stood round, and one began the long-drawn, melancholy cry, "kuka mene, kuka mene!" (woe is me, woe is me![1]) and beat her breast and clasped her hands, swaying to and fro, as she sang the verses of the song; the other mourners joined in, the song became a heart-breaking wail, she caught her breath in long sobs and she threw herself on the grave, clasping the cross at its head and weeping bitterly. when the lament was finished, they spread their white cloth on the grave and arranged the meal, for it was a real meal, not merely a symbolic mouthful; a large bowl of the favourite hash (gulyash), and another of rice, which steamed as it was uncovered, a large loaf of bread and perhaps cheese, and a handkerchief full of cherries. the very poor sat on the ground. those that were wealthy engaged a priest to pray with them by the graveside. there were wooden or stone benches and tables built up by some graves, and sometimes railed in. it was a dull day; the crimson roses were shedding petals everywhere, the tapers twinkled like glow-worms in the grass, and the thin blue smoke curled from the censers. the air was heavy with the mingled scent of dying roses and incense, there was a hum of prayer, and the minor notes of the long laments rose and fell, swarms of pigeons and grey hooded crows soared round and, settled on the grave-stones near, greedily waited to pick up the crumbs of the feasts. it was a strangely impressive scene. forty days after the funeral does this feast (the dacha) take place, then after six months, and then yearly, either upon a saturday, a sunday, or a saints day. as each group of mourners left the graveyard, they distributed food among the beggars at the gate. their bowls were heaped with stew and rice, their bags stuffed with bread, and their gourds filled by means of a funnel with a mixture of all the various wines. the tapers were left to twinkle out in the grass, and by the middle of the day the graveyard was deserted. [1] kukavichiti = to lament, to cry like the cuckoo; for in servia the cuckoo is not the depraved bird that it is with us, but is a bereaved woman who wails ceaselessly for the dead. chapter xiii pirot i left nish, in a chill wet fog, at 4.30 a.m. by the only quick train in the day. it was full of sleeping men, and i stood in the corridor that i might not disturb them. scarcely anyone got in besides myself, and the train rushed on over the plain of nish, plunged into the mountains, began to climb the valley of the nishava, and entered the pass of pirot. the scenery is of the kind that the germans call "wild-romantic." the defile is extremely narrow and the rocks high and steep; there is but room for the stream and train at the foot of them. it is like travelling through a deep cutting, but is considered very fine. the earth is dark red, like anchovy paste, and gives the river such an unpleasantly gory appearance that one half expects it to steam, and the station at the top of the pass is called crvena reka, "the red stream." "what is the name of this station?" asked a stout man in servian. i replied. "what is ..." he began again, and stuck fast. "sprechen sie deutsch?" he ended rather feebly. we conversed for some minutes. then "you come from nish?" he said. "yes," said i. "you speak german very well for a servian. i did not know that the ladies learned foreign languages." "i am english." "dear god!" he cried, and came out into the corridor to have a better view of me. "you are english and you come from a town in the middle of servia! ach! how dangerous! now i am a man. i am making a pleasure trip to constantinople with my friends. _we_ should never think of stopping in a country like this. we are travelling straight through from vienna." "i also am making a pleasure trip, but it is possible that the same things are not interesting to us. i am going to pirot." "my god, how english! look you, fräulein, your nation does things that are quite fearfully silly, and it succeeds because the things are so unexpected that no one is prepared for them. you are like your own army, some day you will walk into an ambush." "but it always comes home when it has done all that it meant to do," i persisted; for i never allow the empire to be scored off if i can help it. then he told his friends of the strange wild beast he had found in the corridor, and they looked at me cautiously and discussed the propriety, or perhaps i should say the impropriety, of my proceedings in awful whispers, with many teutonic invocations of the deity, until i had a hail-cæsar-we-who-are-about-to die-salute-thee feeling, which became less and less dignified as the west balkans themselves came into sight. we reached pirot, and i descended from the train in a state not unlike "funk." no one else got out, and i crossed the rails, with the eyes of all the officials upon me. as the gentleman in the corridor had remarked, pirot, unprepared for such an event, was temporarily paralysed. i walked straight to the exit and held out my ticket to the man in charge. he promptly blocked the door and, though he wore a revolver, called for help. there now being need of immediate action on my part, i began to enjoy myself. i offered him my passport by way of soothing him, and mentioned my nationality, but it made him more agitated. he told me to "come," conducted me back into the station and shut the exit door. then he left me in a small office and told me to "wait." i waited. nothing happened. i remembered the ambush i was to fall into, and thought it would be better to meet the enemy in the open, so went in search of it. it was holding a council of war on the railway lines. i walked into the middle and said, "please, i want to go to the hotel national." the shot told, and the enemy scattered in all directions. the first who rallied was a young officer, who spoke a very little german. he was very polite, but said i must state how long i meant to stay. he added that there was a train in the afternoon by which i could depart. as i had not yet seen the place, i did not know at all what its attractions might be, so i repeated, like a lesson, a simple and pleasing little servian composition i had made up the day before. "i am english. i travel that i may see servia. servia is a very beautiful country. everything is good. i learn the language. the servian language is very beautiful." seeing how perfectly innocuous i was, the officer promptly said it was all right, but i must deposit my passport in the station and reclaim it on leaving. i was not to leave pirot except by train. by this wily ruse he saved the servian nation from the possibility of my negotiating with bulgaria in some lonely spot upon the frontier. i thanked them, escaped from the station, called a cab and drove to the town. the hotel national, though the best in the place, was not cheering. it was a large bare barrack, with a billiard-table in the middle, and a pale-brown, skinny boy of about fourteen was its only apparent manager and proprietor. i never saw another. he showed me a free bedroom somewhere at the top of a wooden ladder. a piece of torn sacking was nailed over one side of the window. there were two beds, neither clean, and a man's coat and other garments lay on one of them. the youth collected them, and considered the room ready. i thought we would not begin to disagree at once, so i descended the ladder again and had breakfast, for it was now eight o'clock and i had had to leave nish on one small cup of coffee. i then felt exceedingly brave, and reflecting on the importance to an army of the commissariat, went out to explore pirot. it was sunday. of all continental nations servia's sunday is the most britannic, and there was no buying nor selling of any kind, and scarcely any life in the place. it is a largeish town, with about 10,000 inhabitants; a street of modern houses, a maze of little tumbledown turkish mud hovels in gardens, and a mosque--a dilapidated, melancholy collection as a whole. for pirot, taken by the servians in 1877, was taken by the bulgarians in 1885 and looted, and is not yet healed of her wounds. pirot is very poor, miserably so, and many of the people have a starved and wretched look. but poor though it is, pirot is important, owing to its situation on the way to sofia and constantinople. it is an old, old town on an old, old trade route, and it remains simple and childish. i was perfectly frank with it, and i told it i meant to see all i could, and wished to draw and perhaps to photograph. and the virtuous inhabitants who had questioned me were shocked; "for," they said, "we have a fortress, and only yesterday a stranger was arrested for attempting to photograph it. at this very moment he is in prison, and we do not know what will happen to him." i asked the criminal's nationality, and learnt that he was a bulgarian. being in servia, i was horrified at his iniquity, but, being english, did not wish to be turned from my purpose. i explained that i wished only to note things characteristically servian, such as the costumes of the peasants, the houses, and so forth. "in short," said a gentleman, "you are making geo-ethnographical studies." this struck me as a remarkably luminous idea; i should never have thought of it myself. i said i was, and everyone was very pleased. as it was sunday, i went to the church, and the church gripped me at once, for it is unpretentiously barbaric. there is an arcaded porch frescoed with bizarre, colossal archangels, not a bit like people; i entered, and it was all as picturesque as it ought to be, with a blue haze of incense through which gleamed the great gold ikonostasis. all was primitive, as befits the oldest form of the christian faith in europe. the service was just over; some women in front were kissing a holy picture before leaving. round the gate was a little group of the poor and afflicted, all either blind or horribly maimed, who were waiting for their usual dole. as the congregation began to file out of church, two bakers with loaves and rolls hurried up and set their trays opposite the gate. as they left, folk bought pieces of bread and distributed them in the wooden bowls which the suppliants held out. it was pitiful to see the anxious quivering fingers of the blind feeling the crusts before transferring them to the bag each one wore for the purpose, and the eager eyes of those who could see, as they watched expectant. i had no idea of the price of bread, so i laid down the smallest coin i had, and received such a huge loaf in exchange that i knew that i was behaving with the vulgar parade of a carnegie or a vanderbilt. i dealt round the bread rather shamefacedly, for i felt unpleasantly as though i were feeding animals at the zoo, and escaped hastily from a storm of blessings, with a new idea about the power of twopence to relieve misery. i walked through the town. the remains of a mediæval castle at the foot of a hill struck me as a suitable subject for a drawing, and i crossed the road to find a point of view. as i did so i ran my eye over the castle and became aware suddenly that there was a sentry in front of it, and that behind it rose innocent-looking grass slopes that mean mischief. it was the fortress, with which i had promised to have nothing to do, and i retired hastily, filled with sympathy for the incarcerated bulgarian, who, after all, was perhaps only making geo-ethnographical studies. by the afternoon i was an accepted fact in pirot and had several friends. by monday morning pirot was ready to show me everything. pirot is the only town in servia which carries on a beautiful and original local industry, and its rugs and carpets deserve to be far more widely known than they are. they are hand-woven, and the process is incredibly simple. four roughly hewn tree stems, or big branches, are pegged together into a frame, which either leans against the wall of the house or is supported by struts, and a sufficient number of strings is bound across it. the woman squats on the ground in front of the frame with her shuttles of coloured wools beside her. with the fingers of her left hand she pulls up the requisite number of threads with great swiftness, slips the shuttle beneath them with her right, and, with no pattern to copy from, carries out very complicated designs with astonishing speed and precision. when she has put in some dozen threads, she takes up a heavy wooden mallet with a row of teeth in it and with a few blows drives the threads very tightly together. thus she works hour after hour for a franc a day. the colours most largely employed are scarlet, indigo, black and white, with sometimes touches of green and yellow in the border; the designs are bold and effective. the weavers, dark women with coins plaited in their hair, were cheery and friendly, and always asked me in to have a look. an ordinary-sized rug takes about a fortnight to make, and many of the big carpets occupy several women for months. i was glad to hear that the town council, which looks after the carpet trade, is on the look-out for good old designs for the workers. also that it had forbidden imported dyes, as these were in many instances found not to be permanent, and the wools used are coloured by local and traditional methods. pirot is justly proud of a medal won in the paris exhibition, and the trade, if carefully looked after, should greatly increase. i made one bad mistake; i suggested that the work was of turkish origin. my friends would not hear of this, and declared that it was servian, purely servian. i felt crushed, but am by no means sure that they were right. there is not entertainment for more than a day in pirot, and the hotel accommodation is lean. i said good-bye that evening. at the station i met the gendarme who had originally blocked my passage. now he regretted my departure. he seemed a childlike and simple personage, not at all intended by nature for a policeman. he carried my bag in for me, and beamed with joy when he felt its weight. "may i open it?" he asked. when he found the weight was entirely caused by three dictionaries and an old pair of shoes, he was disappointed. "i thought it was all english gold!" he said. as the time for the departure of the train drew near the gendarme grew anxious. something weighed heavily on his mind, and that was that he had to write the name of each departing passenger in the police-book and did not know how to manage mine. he wrote down everyone else, and then shook his head despairingly. he restored me my passport and explained that he could not read the name on it, for it was printed in "latinski." i boldly offered to write it myself in the sacred volume. he was incredulous of my powers. it must not be written in latinski, he said. i promised, took the pencil and wrote my name very large in cyrillic; he was delighted, and everyone came to see. "it was a great wonder," they said, and they all wanted to know where i had learnt it. "in london," said i. "of a serb?" "no, of a pole." "of a pole! that is impossible." "but it is true." then a superior person explained to me, "it is impossible that you should have learned these letters of a pole, because poles are roman catholic, and these letters are orthodox." i stuck to my statement. then the superior person, who even spoke a little german, had a bright idea. "this pole," he said, "was catholic, but has now become converted." and this explanation amply satisfied everyone, for it is obviously easier to change one's religion than to learn the alphabet belonging to an opposition one--if you are a south slav. my leaving pirot was very different from my arriving. now they said it was a pity i was going. the stationmaster thanked me for trusting a balkan state, and i promised to look in next time i was in the neighbourhood. chapter xiv east servia at nish the hotel received me on my return with much friendliness, but, though evidently anxious to oblige, was quite unable to give me any information as to east servia, and prayed me to return to belgrade by train. this not suiting my ideas at all, i started from nish at 5 a.m. for zaichar, and trusted the unravelling of the route to luck and my driver, one marko, a stolid and friendly being. servia is an amazing land. the more i saw of it the more struck was i with its great fertility and its great capabilities, its rich and breezy uplands and its warm well-watered valleys. corn, vines, tobacco, green crops, and every variety of fruit grow luxuriantly even with the present most primitive methods of cultivation. with knowledge and a little capital servia should be a rich land. unluckily both are wanting; the lamentable political differences which tear the kingdom make both almost impossible of attainment, and the small minority of plucky and intelligent men are struggling against almost impossible odds. nish had suspected me vaguely, but the farther i got up country the more forcibly did i realise that servia was a raw quivering mass of politics, and that a change of some sort was imminent. being provided with no letters of introduction, no one knew to which party i belonged, and i was cross-questioned and re-questioned with a persistency that, to put it mildly, was fatiguing. before i had realised the extreme state of political tension, i rashly revealed, in reply to a straight question, that i had come direct from cetinje, and was at once supposed to be supporting the possible succession of prince mirko to the servian throne. "if you say such things," said a man to me, "you must expect to be suspected, because we have no heir to the throne." "but what is that to me? i have no wish to occupy your throne." "why have you come here?" "to see servia." "why do you wish to see servia? have you ever spoken to prince mirko?" and so on and so on, a long string of questions directed towards finding out which of the possible successors to that rickety seat i favoured. i replied, "i am english, and naturally i prefer the prince of wales," and laughed so much that to my no little relief everyone else did so too, and the examination came to an end. by and by people began to confide in me, and i got used to "i tell you this that you may know the truth and tell it abroad. you are english, and i trust you not to say that i told you, nor that you heard it in this town." it was pointed out to me that had i come provided with introductions i should have been spared much annoyance. that is true. but i should not in that case have "seen servia," nor--for my tormentors always ended by being amiable--should i have learnt how kind the servian can be to a friendless stranger. i drove through this beautiful and sunny land much harassed by the pity of it all. marko was a cheerful companion, and did his best to amuse me. he pointed out that there were always at least three women to one man working in the fields and that the "man" was usually a boy. men, he explained, did not like working in fields. moreover, the women did it so well that he seemed to think that it would be a pity to dissuade them. and so long as there was enough to eat, why trouble? for a man it is much better to be a "pandur" (policeman), especially in a large town. then you do nothing in the streets, and are paid for it; also you wear a revolver and a uniform. even this delightful career has its drawbacks, for it means a lot of standing and walking about. best of all is to be a "gazda" (head of a large household or family community), then you tell all the others what to do, and you spend your leisure elegantly in a kafana. a coachman's lot was very hard and ill-paid. thus marko, and his astonishment was intense and genuine when i walked up all the hills. i think he ascribed this act of folly to the fact that i was a woman, for he pointed out that the women in the fields had to tramp long distances to work. they have a hard time of it, poor things, for they carry their tools and their babies with them; and babies rolled in shawls and slung up hammockwise dangle like gigantic chrysalids from the branches of the trees round the fields where their mothers toil. "hush-a-bye, baby, on the tree-top; when the wind blows, the cradle will rock," is true in servia. probably our own nursery rhyme dates from days when field labour in england was in just such a primitive state. we made no long pause save at kniazhevatz (= "prince's place"), a little town that was formerly almost on the frontier, and was burnt to the ground no less than three times in the nineteenth century by the turks, the last time in 1876. it consists mainly of wooden frame houses with mud walls and big eaves and balconies, and the streets are straggly and irregular. this makes it quite the most picturesque town on that side of servia. what the serb likes is a perfectly straight street in which all the houses are as much alike as possible. this is, however, also the modern parisian's idea, and some people admire paris, so perhaps the serb is right. i was supposed to "rest" at kniazhevatz, but did nothing of the sort. i had not long swallowed my lunch when i was told that "a gentleman who spoke german" wished to talk to me. he and his friends had previously interviewed marko. he now offered to show me the town. i accepted, and we started. his idea of "showing the town" turned out to be to walk me up and down the main street and let loose a perfect torrent of questions about me and my affairs. i grasped this fact, and ran my eyes over him. he was youngish, fair, and far too stout for his years. a teutonic ancestor somewhere, i thought. i replied cheerfully to his questions, and walked at a fair pace. when we arrived at the top of the street again, i did not turn back; i pursued bye streets and side streets, and walked on the sunny side of the way. i reckoned on his being in very bad condition, and he was; moreover, he had just dined solidly. the more personal his questions became, the faster i walked. till a week or two ago i had been panting after tireless montenegrins, now the situation was reversed; the perspiration stood on his brow, and he had not yet discovered what i was worth in pounds sterling. he asked if i did not find the sun too hot, and i replied that i liked it. he kept up manfully, and inquired the incomes of my father, my brothers, and my brothers-in-law. baffled on these points, but still persuaded that i was a multi-millionaire, he suggested that i should remain permanently in servia; this with noble disinterestedness, for he was already another's; but in the middle of the good old tale of how someone-avich had married an english-wife-who-was-extremely-happy, he was forced for lack of breath to suggest that there was no need to walk fast. "no," said i, "it is very foolish to walk fast, for then one can see nothing." as there was rising ground before us and the "going" was very bad, i forced the pace slightly, his questions died away, and i brought him back uphill to the hotel a limp and dripping thing, with the great problem still unsolved. he threw himself into a chair and called for beer. i jumped into my carriage, which was by this time ready, and drove off without enlightening him. "that man," said marko, "wanted to know everything, but i told him nothing." as marko knew nothing at all about me, i was not surprised. we arrived at zaichar late at night, after a fourteen hours' drive. zaichar had little to detain me. beyond the motley crowd of bulgarian and roumanian peasants--for this is very much a borderland place--there is nothing to see. some villages in the neighbourhood have scarce a serb in them. gold is found not far off at the maidan pek, and i was strongly urged to go and see the diggings. by way of an attraction, i was told that i should find specimens of every race in europe there except english, and as by no means the best specimens of humanity haunt gold diggings, i thought that a herd of them loose upon the servo-bulgarian frontier might be more than i could grapple with single-handed. so i contented myself with looking at some small nuggets in a bottle. the mines, i was told, pay fairly well, and i enough alluvial gold is also found in the bed of the river timok by the peasants to make the search worth while. the timok forms the frontier for a considerable distance, and as a river is a clearly marked line that all can see, the frontier is a quiet one, and no "mistakes" occur upon it.: we started for negotin as a heavy thunderstorm! cleared away and a big rainbow overarched the sky. "when the old people see that green and red thing," said marko, pointing to it, "they say, 'now we shall have good wine and maize.' red for wine and green for maize." it was an uneventful drive over land that once produced servia's best wine, and is now but slowly recovering from the phylloxera. as we approached negotin, marko became more and more uneasy. he told me repeatedly that the people of zaichar had asked him all about me and he had told them nothing; merely that i was english; otherwise nothing at all! this he considered very meritorious. as he knew nothing more about me, i did not see the extreme virtue of his reticence. however, as he was dying for information and i was going to part with him in the evening, so should be no more bothered, i thought i would gratify him, and told him the number of my brothers and sisters, etc., all of which crave him infinite satisfaction. we arrived at negotin the best of friends. negotin stands in a swamp; there are water-meadows and marshes full of frogs and reeds all round it, but i saw no mosquitoes, and the town did not look unhealthy. there are about 6000 inhabitants, a new and unlovely church, and a newly-erected bronze statue to milosh obrenovich, but the chief glory of negotin is the monument to hayduk veljko,--veljko, the popular hero, the story of whose career casts a fierce light on the condition of servia less than a hundred years ago, and makes one wonder not that servia should be, as some folk say, so backward, but that in so short a time she should have reached such a high point of civilisation. at the beginning of the nineteenth century, when servia was resolved no longer to tolerate turkish tyranny, the land was overrun with bands of desperate men, who sheltered in wood and mountain, lived on plunder, and perpetually harassed the enemy by guerilla warfare. they called themselves hayduks (brigands), and they gloried in the name. to-day, just one hundred years later, the same conditions exist in macedonia, and the causes are the same. dreaded, beloved, and admired, these hayduks were the heroes of the peasants, whom they alternately protected and oppressed; their names and deeds were sung in songs, and they cast a halo of glory round the profession of brigandage which has only lately faded from it. the greatest of all was hayduk veljko. associated with karageorge at the beginning of the uprising, his extraordinary lawlessness and ferocity made it impossible for him to work in co-operation with any plan or person. with a gang of followers, he carried on war in east servia on his own account. insatiable for plunder, he would risk his life for a few piastres, but what he had he would give away lavishly. he boasted that he grudged his goods to no man, and that it was better for no man to grudge his goods in return. when the russians reproached him with calling himself "hayduk," he answered, "i should be sorry if there were any greater robber in the world!" drunk with blood and the lust of battle, he prayed "give us war in my time, o lord!" for though he was kind enough to wish servia peace after his death, the joys of the insurrection quite obliterated for him its object, and any form of government was intolerable to him. he was a terror to the turks, whom he was always surprising, and his reputation was so great that it excited the jealousy of the other servian leaders. he and his men held all east servia, and without further assistance kept the foe at bay. negotin was his stronghold. the turks, enraged by the heavy losses he repeatedly inflicted upon them, determined to destroy him, and besieged him with a force of 18,000 men. undaunted, he made sallies at night, harassing the enemy, slaughtering many, and retiring into his fortifications with slight losses. but his garrison gradually became smaller. when he saw that it was impossible to hold out much longer, he was forced to humble his pride and send for help to karageorge. alas! karageorge had no force to spare, and the other leaders were reluctant to help. hayduk veljko had always wished to stand alone, they said, and he might do so now. the turks were reinforced by artillery, and veljko's fate was sealed. they battered down his towers; the buildings within the walls were smashed: still the garrison held out and sheltered in the cellars. hayduk veljko grew desperate; every scrap of metal, spoons, lamps, even coins, were made into bullets, and no help came. when at length it came by the danube, in the shape of a ship full of men and ammunition, it was too late. veljko was dead. his prayer was fulfilled, and he did not live to see peace. making his morning rounds, he was recognised on the redoubts by a turkish artilleryman who fired at him. he fell terribly mangled, and with his dying breath urged his men to stand firm. they buried his body at night, and tried to conceal his death from the enemy; but the spirit which had animated them had fled, and the garrison, which had not before thought of retreat, held out for a day or two only, and then escaped at night across the marshes. a panic ensued among the serbs of the district when they learnt the death of veljko, nor do the other servian leaders seem to have realised what a power veljko was till it was too late. the turkish army pursued the fugitives, and for the losses that veljko had inflicted upon them exacted an awful vengeance at the first place they came to, the little town of kladovo, where they impaled the men alive, captured the women, and immersed the children in boiling water, in derision of baptism. such is the story of hayduk veljko. his was a strong soul blackened by the terrible times into which he was born, and in spite of his many faults he played a great part in the freeing of servia. his monument, an obelisk with commemorative lines and the date of his death (1813) on the four sides of its base, stands in a little flower garden. his portrait, fierce with black moustachios and a scarlet fez, is carved and painted on the stone. i spelt slowly through the inscriptions; the old woman, caretaker of the spot, came out and picked me some roses. "he was a very good man," she said; "here are some roses from his garden." poor plucky barbarian, whose ambition it was to be the greatest robber in the world, he had come to this--roses and a very good man! i took the flowers and strolled back; i looked at the older people and reflected that they had heard these things from the living mouth, for their grand-fathers had seen them. yet with these traditions barely a century old the land is now orderly and peaceful; in this short space of the world's history it has leapt from savagery to civilisation. it has yet far to go, but it has done much. when i returned to the inn, i found the landlord beaming. "you have two brothers and five sisters," he said. "it is so pleasant to know all about one's guests!" marko had lost no time in spreading short biographies of me, and had done his work effectually. he parted from me with regret, for with recollections perhaps of veljko, he had overcharged me liberally, as i learned when i was older and wiser; barring this slight defect, he was a most agreeable travelling companion, and, as he himself pointed out, "gave me servian lessons for nothing." the landlord was all friendliness. he knew all about the english, and he told me about someone-avich-who-married-an-english-wife. "she is so happy," he added rapturously, "and he is now just like an englishman!" "what does he do?" i asked. "do? he does not do anything. he sits in idepark like an englishman." "she must be an american," i said firmly; "englishwomen are not rich enough for that." radujevatz, on the danube, the port for negotin and the last station before reaching the bulgarian frontier, is but a couple of kilometres away. i returned to belgrade by boat. all the world and cook go down the danube, so it needs no description. my guardian angel was as kind as usual, and gave me two most courteous servian artists as travelling companions. there is nothing like a "brother brush" for help in need, and as a general rule my sketch-book is a great passport and finds me more useful friends than does my foreign office one. these two gave me lessons in the language and told me of their fatherland. that i should have come so far to see it pleased them greatly, but they were both, especially the elder man, very sad about it, and told me mournfully that i could scarcely have come in a worse period of its history. "our old patriarchal system is dead, and we have nothing to replace it. our people have had thrust upon them too suddenly western ideas which they do not understand; we are in the most critical period of a nation's history, the half-educated period. the nations that criticise us passed through this period so long ago that they have forgotten it." he talked of the great empire and of kosovo and of the black years that followed. "look at the few old churches that the turks have left us. in those days we were not behind the whole of europe. our past was heroic; our future looks black. i am an old man, and i shall die with all my hopes disappointed. no one in the west knows how we have suffered. i, of course, remember when the turks still occupied our forts." they sang me snatches of servian ballads--all monotonous wails over the slaying of someone by the turks, ending in a cry for vengeance. i commented on their unrelieved melancholy. "ah, fräulein," said the elder, "it is the suffering of five hundred years, and it is your nation that keeps the turk in europe. the crimean war was a blow to us, and the berlin treaty was only a shade less bitter. they did not consider us as peoples. they marked out the balkan peninsula into _spheres of influence_ awaiting the pleasure of the great powers, and we are in the austrian sphere. england has never troubled about us. russia is our only friend; russia could save us, but she is too busy in the far east. the only other land situated as we are, with no outlet to the sea, is switzerland. all europe takes care of switzerland. we have no one to help us in the whole world." we reached the iron gates. the stream was enormously swollen, and we steered up the middle, a huge wide swirl of water eddying and coiling with terrible rapidity. the boat began its upward climb, shuddering and trembling violently; it seemed to be straining every nerve, and the deck vibrated underfoot. beyond and above gleamed the line of smooth water, and the panting vessel struggled into it and regained its breath. as i stood in the bows and watched the struggle and heard the tale of servia's woes, servia seemed to me like the struggling boat, with the melancholy difference that there was no strong hand at the helm to save her from shipwreck. this was, however, the boat's supreme effort. we lay off orsova all night, were more and more behind time next day, and did not lounge up to the quay at belgrade till very nearly midnight. belgrade was fast asleep when i walked through the silent streets that were entirely deserted save for the sentinels standing motionless at the street corners with rifle and revolver. belgrade, i had been told in west europe, was a gay, reckless, dissipated capital. in outward appearance it is about as wild as little peddlington. appearances may be deceptive. i do not know. chapter xv the shumadia and south-west servia everyone said i must go to the shumadia, because it is the "heart of servia," the centre in which arose her struggle for freedom. so to the shumadia i went. having read in a german book that it was quite impossible to explore that part of the country without a guide and letters of introduction, i took only as much luggage as i could carry easily in one hand and set out by train for kragujevatz. as the best-laid plans are apt to go wrong, i left this expedition entirely to fate. people like being trusted; often, in fact, serve you much the better for it. fate did this time. she put me into the carriage with a gentleman who most kindly furnished me with an introduction that took me round all the rest of servia. that i should have been thrown on the land quite unassisted distressed him. "you must yourself see," he said, "that if your consul and minister have given you no letter, it looks very bad. but that is the way your country behaves. if you had been german, for example, you would have had plenty of letters." this astonished me; my new friend, on the other hand, seemed still more astonished that i had got so far letterless. servia loves letters of introduction and is not happy without them. from this time forward i made a sort of triumphal progress, was passed from town to town, and received so much hospitality and kindness that servia and the friends that helped me on my way will ever remain in a warm corner of my memory. i changed my plans from day to day, and i went wherever the police captains and the district engineers advised me; nor can i wish anyone better guides than these gentlemen. they lent me maps, they planned my routes, they took me walks, they hired my carriages, found my guides and horses, and drove my bargains. what they were pleased to consider the mad englishness of my enterprise appealed forcibly to their sense of humour, and my various adventures made them shout with laughter. i cannot repay their kindness, but i certainly amused them. the shumadia takes its name from "shuma," a forest; the woods of servia were the last shelter of a desperate people and the rallying-point of the nation. if it be true that "all that is most servian is in the shumadia," it is here that we should look for the type of the race. the peasant of the shumadia is tall, fair, and blue-or grey-eyed. he is more strongly built and more active than his brethren in other districts, and is more like the fair type of montenegrin than are the men of any other part of servia. the race question in the balkans is so exceedingly complicated that i cannot attempt to unravel it, and can only note marked types where they occur. so much for the peasant. the country now is no longer a forest, though well supplied with woods and trees; it is a most fertile district, and is better cultivated and far more enterprising than any other part of servia. kragujevatz, milosh' capital, is a very go-ahead place, and next to belgrade is servia's most important commercial town, busy and flourishing, with some 14,000 inhabitants. it has a fine gymnasium and a large girls' school, both handsome and spacious buildings very well fitted; the girls' school built by private gift. all trace of the turk has been wiped out of the town, but the relics of milosh are carefully preserved. his konak, a medium-sized whitewashed house, now forms part of the officers' quarters. the old church stands near, a small plain whitewashed building with a wooden annexe for the women, who were not then admitted to worship in the main body of the church--which shows forcibly how deeply the turk had set his mark upon the servian people. by the church stands the long low whitewashed shed that was servia's first parliament house. milosh, like karageorge, took care to assemble his parliament very seldom and to pay little or no attention to it then. kragujevatz otherwise is brand-new, and here as elsewhere it is easy to see that the servians have done more in fifty years for the improvement of the place and the conditions of life than the turk did in four centuries. much yet remains to be done, nevertheless a journey from servia into turkey is like stepping off the pavement into the sewer. on leaving kragujevatz i left the railway. none exists in west servia, which has to rely entirely on ox-carts for the transport of its produce. carriage travelling in servia is, as i have said before, but slow work. but it gives one excellent opportunities of seeing the country. the start must be made early. the man usually suggested 4 a.m., but i made it 5 when possible. the peasant was always on the road or already at work; for he, like the coachman, likes to take his time about things, and has to get up very early in order to spread a six or seven hours' job very thinly over sixteen. this gives him ample leisure to lie under a beech tree and play upon a wooden pipe (a double pipe it is, too, two pipes with one mouthpiece), but in spite of the old proverb it has not yet contributed much either to his wealth or wisdom. he is descended from a long line of forefathers who lived oppressed by foreign rule in troublous times, when the accumulation of property would have been labour in vain and would have but enriched the pocket of pasha or janissary. he sees no object in exerting himself; it is unjust to call him lazy. he is undeveloped; his wants are so simple that he can satisfy them easily without working up to his full power, and he has no ideas beyond. he walks, thinks, and acts in leisurely fashion, and appears to be slow to wrath and very good-natured. the spare time which remains upon his hands unfortunately is not always harmlessly employed upon the penny whistle, for your servian peasant is a great politician. slow to grasp a new idea on this as on all other subjects, and with no traditions of good government behind him, he is eternally dissatisfied with the government he happens to be under. for centuries "government" in servia meant "the turk" and was a thing to be resisted or at least evaded, and the servian peasant still ascribes every evil to it. so the corn waited while the reaper sat in the shade and discussed the latest scandal about queen draga. "if our women," said a serb to me, "took to politics like yours do, i do not know what would happen. all work would be at a standstill." very early in the day, even before the peasant has begun politics, the coachman is ready to rest at a "mehana" (inn), and in spite of all my efforts i became acquainted with the interior of a vast number. the bare whitewashed room with fly-blown portraits of milan and natalie, and new and gay ones of alexander represented as about forty, and draga as, say, five-and-twenty; the boarded floor; the rush of chickens in at the door when they heard the refreshments coming; the cavern in the brick wall where the little copper pots of black coffee are heated in glowing charcoal; the miniature glass bottles about three inches high, in which the slivovitz (plum brandy) is served; the white-kilted, sandal-shod men who sat round on rough benches and consumed it; and the host and hostess eager both to serve me and to find out all about me, made up a homely and not unpicturesque scene. and a plateful of white curd cheese covered with clotted cream (kaimak), a lump of rye bread, some onions, and some thin red wine, are a breakfast a prince would not disdain, after driving for three hours with nothing but a thimbleful of black coffee inside him. by midday every inn has dinner ready, and supplies food, which is generally far better than the outside of the den leads one to expect, at a very cheap rate. the penny wine of the country is good of its kind, and shows that servia only requires science to become a first-class wine-growing country. the untravelled serb has at present but vague ideas as to what west europe considers first-class wine. "our wine," said a serb to me, after i had tasted a thin red variety, "is not so well known as it ought to be. we send a great deal of this to marseilles and sell it very cheap. the french probably sell it as the best champagne, at a high price!" which showed he had much to learn as yet about vintages. i had long days upon the road, but was never lonely. all the country life of servia dawdled past; living pictures of which i never tired. the school children, who often have to tramp a great distance, are out early, carrying their books and inkpots. in bad winter weather they are often unable to return, and are put up at the school for many nights. or there will pass a gang of albanian horse-dealers, their tight striped leg-gear, their scarlet sashes and shaven heads looking outlandish even in this out-of-the-way spot. sitting high on their saddles, they amble smartly past, driving a herd of ponies in front of them. the albanian does not let the grass grow under his feet, and his movements are full of nervous energy. wildest of all in appearance are the gipsies--brown untamed animals, long, lean, sinewy, and half-clad. as a matter of convenience they adopt the dress of the country they happen to be in; their individuality they never change. the servian looks down on them with contempt; they are the lowest of the population. "tsiganin! do this," shouts a serb to any of the swarthy young rascals who are hanging about the street corner, and the boy obeys like a dog. but the gipsy is fiercely proud of his race. "you are english, but i am a gipsy!" said an old woman to me, with indescribable majesty, as she drew up her head; the coins glittered in her filthy elf-locks, and she fixed me with her eagle eyes. she took the black pipe from her mouth and waved it round her head till she was wreathed in blue smoke, and she smote her bare breast dramatically. "i am a true gipsy," she repeated. in a piece of a dirty shirt and half a petticoat, she looked like an empress. yet the savage who possesses a hut, even the wild beast with a den, is a more civilised being. without any kind of a tent, much less a cart, will they camp; some poles propped against a bush and covered with an armful of fern are often their only covering from the weather, and a couple of lean unhappy bears may share with them the bundle of filthy rags that is their bed, for your gipsy is a great showman. i once passed a group encircling a caldron, asquat and eager for the pot to boil; they turned as i drove by to look at me, and i saw, with something of a shock, that one of the party was a huge blue-nosed baboon. he wore about as much clothing as the others, and it was not till i saw his face that he was distinguishable from his friends. the cavemen and the prehistoric lake-dwellers cannot have lived less luxuriously than do these strange wild folk now, in europe in the twentieth century. when i met them upon the road, they seemed to have walked out of another age, another world. untrustworthy and dishonest are the mildest terms applied to them, and they are said to be responsible for a large proportion of the crime of the land. more extraordinary than their filth and their savagery, more wonderful than their superb vitality, is their marvellous gift--a gift that amounts to genius--for playing stringed instruments. it is in the blood to such an extent that there are fiddlers in every gang; it seems as natural for a gipsy to fiddle as for a fish to swim. i am not speaking of those who wear civilised garments and perform in the large towns,--many of these are known to fame,--but of the ragged ruffians who fiddle for their own amusement on the road, by the camp fire, or sprawled under a tree, and who display a command of the instrument and a technical facility that tends to confirm the theory that music is the least civilised of the arts. i have seen a child, of certainly not more than ten years, perched on the top of a loaded waggon, executing the wildest runs, turns, and flourishes upon his fiddle with an ease and certainty that the industrious student of a conservatoire does not attain to after years of labour, the ease and certainty of a singing skylark. but he and his associates were such that it was disgusting to pass on the lee side of that waggon. how these people have attained this art is an insoluble mystery; that it belongs pre-eminently to them as a birthright is shown by the curious fact that most of the world's fiddlers hail from gipsy-haunted lands. and these strange wild things, with life running fierce in their veins, passed in their turn, and i was alone with the dead. [illustration: travelling gipsies, rijeka, montenegro.] by every roadside, even by lonely mountain tracks, stand the monuments of the soldiers who have fallen in war--tall stones, sometimes solitary, sometimes in groups of two or three, almost all carved in very flat relief or incised with a rude full-length portrait of the dead man, painted in bright colours. some of these stones are small, others five or six feet high. with a blue coat and black moustachios, with his arms and fingers straight and stiff by his side and his feet turned out at right angles, stands the soldier, staring straight in front of him with round black eyes, and presents arms to the passer-by. upon the older stones, he wears a scarlet tarboosh and carries a sword; upon those put up since the last war, he carries a gun and wears the present uniform. an inscription tells how he met his death: "for the glory and freedom of his brother serbs." the monument is usually near his home, but sometimes on the actual spot where he fell. to the serbs these stones are an everyday sight. to me it seemed sometimes that i was the only thing left alive out of the slaughter and was passing constantly through the ranks of a phantom army awaiting the trumpet call. their grotesque and childish simplicity added a strange pathos. thus i travelled through a land green as our own, with oaks and beeches and fern, and everywhere the print of war was upon it, and through storm and sun and wind and rain i passed from town to town. [illustration] chachak, on the morava, stands on flat land down by the river. i drove through the ford by moonlight and entered the town with a terrible clatter, but, having come properly introduced, i met with a very hospitable reception. i was travelling to see servia and the servians; that was now a recognised fact. should i like to see something truly servian? it was fortunate that i had arrived this night, for i was in time to see four murderers shot on the spot where they had committed their crime! i was urged to go, and offered special facilities. taken aback, i listened, speechless, while the plan was unfolded. i was to rise very early and to drive for three hours up the mountains with the condemned men and the file of soldiers who were to carry out the sentence. the words called up before me a picture of the grisly little procession crawling uphill in the grey of the dawning. adding up the pros and cons rapidly, i said to myself that it was my duty to see everything, but searched my brains for a decent way out of it. then i recollected that if i went, for the next fifty years it would be said that all englishwomen were in the habit of seeing men shot before breakfast. gripping thankfully at this idea, i said i had rather not accept the invitation; i had not come so far to see servians killed. my reply caused disappointment, and i was strongly urged to go. the murder had been a peculiarly atrocious one, so that i need not mind seeing the punishment; for the murderers, after cutting the throats of their victims, had gouged out the eyes and otherwise barbarously mutilated the corpses. twenty men had been arrested, the last gang of hayduks on that side of servia. four were to die to-morrow. moreover, my route lay that way, and there was nothing at all to be seen in chachak. my coachman listened anxiously for my decision, but was doomed to disappointment. i did not go. chachak is proud of being the first town taken from the turks by karageorge. it is a bright and enterprising place, and dreams of constructing an electric railway that shall connect it with the world. it boasts a church that was church, then mosque, and is now church again. at least so i was told, but i believe myself that it was born a mosque and that the old bells belonging to the former christian period, which were found recently when digging the foundations of one of the public buildings, belonged to an early church long since destroyed and forgotten. i spun out the resources of chachak as long as i could, and my coachman hung about, buoyed up by the hope that we should yet be in time. i even found the horses harnessed and ready, waiting for me, a most unusual event in servia, and he started off at a great pace for the first and last time in that land. he had a pleasant, smiling face, and was very civil, and as he looked at his watch every few minutes, i marvelled that he should crave so ardently to see red blood run in the sunshine. to have once seen it hurrying down an italian gutter was enough for me. so we drove on through woods that i knew were beautiful, but they gave me only a sickly feeling of being on the track of death, and the farther i got, the less i liked it. in starting, i had calculated that i was late enough, and then began to wonder if there was any limit to the lateness that a servian is capable of. when we arrived at markovich, the village nearest the top of the pass, i saw the soldiers stopping outside the inn to cheer themselves with rakija on their homeward march, and i knew that the deed was done. an officer rode up, touched his cap and told me politely where i should see the graves; he expected me to be disappointed, but i was greatly relieved. we reached the top of the hill, a large grassy plateau, and there were the four raw heaps of damp mould. a peasant was patting down the last one, and a stake had been driven in at the head of each. my coachman pulled up and said regretfully, "we are only three-quarters of an hour too late!" "drive on," said i, cutting short the details of how they had stood in their graves and been shot down into them, and as the peasant shouldered his spade and turned away too, we left them alone on the hilltop. at pozhega we had to put up the horses for an hour and find food for ourselves. the landlady--a stout woman with a good-natured face--was considerably exhausted, having been to the top of the hill to see the men shot. she had risen very early and had walked all the way, but there was a great crowd, and much to her annoyance she had not got a good view of the end. nor could i make her understand that i had purposely avoided the sight myself. from pozhega it was but a few hours' drive to ushitza, my next stopping-place, the prettiest little town that i know in servia--a place that no traveller in the country should omit to visit. it sprawls through two wooded valleys in a mountainous country as beautiful as anyone need wish to see. it is hospitable and cheery, and should make an excellent centre for a sportsman, for i am told that the surrounding mountains are well supplied with game birds, that there is no lack of wolves and bears, and no difficulty about procuring permission to shoot. i clattered up to the inn, and it received me with characteristic simplicity; its landlady asked if i wanted a place as chambermaid, and was much mystified, for it seems that she had never before seen a lady travelling alone. laughing over this, i gave my letter of introduction to the master of the establishment and asked him to have it delivered at once. it seemed a simple enough request, and i sat down to some coffee without any anxiety, unaware that he had stowed the letter away carefully behind the rakija bottles in the bar and had sent the potboy to tell the gentleman that his sister had arrived! he turned up in a great hurry, much mystified, as his only sister lived in america and had shown no symptoms of visiting him. the innkeeper then produced the letter and explained that, as the gentleman was a bohemian and possessed the only pair of blue eyes in the town and i also was a blue-eyed foreigner, it had never occurred to him to doubt our relationship. i had a gay time in ushitza. the schoolmasters, the head of the police, and other local authorities all came to call on me and devise plans for me, and we drank beer festively by the market-place, for as i was the first englishwoman in ushitza, health drinking was necessary. ushitza is plucky and enterprising. it not only makes plans, but it carries them out. it is blessed with good men at the head of affairs. for all the world over, in spite of the old saying, the voice of the people is very seldom the voice of a god; it is far more frequently simply a "row," and in most places we find that all good work is due to the brains and energy of a few individuals, and not to the collective wisdom of the mass, except in the sense that the mass has had the wit to know a good man when they see him and to follow his lead. ushitza, poked away in a lonely valley in a far corner of servia, has a very good school, well fitted with modern apparatus, maps and diagrams and plaster casts; is well lighted by electricity, and has started an electric cotton and linen weaving factory, which is the pride and joy of the town. three years did it take in the making; every bit of the machinery had to be imported from abroad and carried over the mountains on ox-carts, but in spite of all difficulties it is well started and beginning to pay its way, and ushitza, like chachak, is trying to find the ways and means for an electric railway. ushitza was ushitza in the glorious days of the servian empire, and was the seat of its first arch-bishop, the great st. sava. stefan vi. transferred the archbishopric to ipek (petch), that lies in stara srbija waiting to be redeemed; but ushitza worked out her own redemption in 1862, and after severe fighting evicted the turk, and is once more the seat of a bishop. the djetina, a tributary of the morava, rushes past the town from a narrow valley, where leaps the fall that works the 150-horse-power electric engines, and high on the opposite hill tower the ruins of the big castle that once guarded the town. fortified by the turks, it was taken by the servians and blown to pieces, and its shattered walls hang perilously on the precipice edge. i was told it was a turkish building, but i scrambled all over it, and believe it to be a servian mediæval castle belonging probably to the palmy days of the empire. everything else in ushitza is new, except the stone bridge over the river, which is mediæval, and the big roman altar stone found in the neighbourhood that stands in the entrance of the school; but the town, though so new, is very picturesque. i left ushitza with regret, for it was very good to me. i said good-bye for ever and ever, promised to send picture postcards of london, and was soon again on the road. ivanitza was my destination, and my midday halt at arilje, where i arrived cold and damp in a heavy rainstorm. the police captain and the priest were kindly folk and offered to take me to see the church. according to tradition, it is the oldest church in servia, and is said to have been built to the memory of one aril, a christian priest martyred by heathen servians early in the ninth century. it is a cruciform building with a central dome, a very flat apse, the usual narthex, and is barrel-vaulted. my guides could tell me nothing at all except that it was "very old." i suggested thirteenth century, which astonished them. that the building itself had anything to say on the subject was a new idea to them. after a little discussion with the priest, the captain said that someone had said it was of the time of king milutin, and added naively that they did not know when that was. milutin (stefan milutin urosh) reigned from about 1275 to 1321. this date fits in with its appearance, but not with the tradition that it is the oldest church in servia. probably it is a later building on an old site. it is old and dim enough, at any rate, to have seen the great servian empire and the rise and the fall of the ottoman. frescoes stiff and byzantine in style cover its walls. big saints in long straight white robes with bizarre black patterns stand in a row along the walls, and a king (milutin himself) in a high crown and a long cloak decorated with large discs of gold. the faces have been scraped out by the turks, and the whole of the paintings are dim and faded, but they are scarce examples of early art, and appear to have never suffered restoration. i am sorry that i allowed damp, cold, and general discomfort to prevent my staying to draw them. we pushed on through the storm along a richly wooded defile through which tears the morava, and arrived chill and stiff in the evening at ivanitza, where the mere sight of the inn made me feel much worse. as it was not possible to get anything to eat till supper-time, and as the bedroom offered me was uninhabitable, and as both my letters of introduction were to gentlemen who only spoke servian, i wondered why i had come. it was too wet to go out, so i sat in the doorway and drew the shops over the way, and soon forgot all the surrounding circumstances. i was aroused by the most cheery police officers, in very smart uniforms, who came in answer to my letters of introduction, and who were extraordinarily amused to find me already settled down to draw. they brought the burgomaster, called for drinks, and in the approved fashion each stood me a glass. when the doctor, who spoke german, turned up and tried to stand me one on his own account, i cried off. my montenegrin sketches here were the topic of the day; for the nearer you get to the frontier the more beloved and admired is montenegro. central, eastern, and northern servia seem to dislike it. everyone here wanted to hear both about the place and the people, and i sat in that little low-ceiled, dark, messy, stone-floored room filled with officers and peasants, and explained things as best i could, the company all helping me out with the language. the rain poured in torrents outside and splashed in at the open door; everyone offered me tobacco, which i declined; and there was a good deal of glass clinking. helped out by german and the doctor, i told tales of skodra, which ivanitza thought was a place perilous. and we talked of the virtues of the black mountains and the sins of the turks. the two oil lamps made the black corners blacker and threw odd shadows of fur-capped peasants on the walls, and as i looked at my surroundings, saw the white kilts, the leathern sandals and the uniforms, and heard the clank of sword and spur, i wondered to which of my ancestors i owed the fact that i felt so very much at home. presently two men slunk in who were greeted by a roar of laughter. "how are the turks?" cried everyone. chaff flew much too thickly for me to see my way through it. when it cleared, i was told that the two had strayed over the frontier, had been caught by the turks, and, as they had no passports upon them, were promptly put into prison. there they had stayed some days, and they had only just been released. everyone treated this as a huge joke except the victims, who looked extremely silly. there was more in the episode than met the eye, for in the course of the arrest shots had been exchanged, and two servians--a shepherd and a border patrol man--killed. my officers told me seriously that i was to keep off the edge. never having lived on a ruddy frontier, i was much interested. all my life i had heard of the value of our "silver streak," but i had to go to a public-house in south servia before i realised it. the fact that i had come so soon after the affair of miss stone charmed everyone, as it conclusively proved that england had a high opinion of servia. i was, as someone naively stated, the most remarkable event since the war. an english officer had ridden through the town three years before, but he had had an interpreter and had carried a revolver. also two frenchmen had once passed that way. that was ivanitza's complete visitors' list for the last twenty years. i was the first who had tackled it alone and unarmed. when a fresh arrival turned up, he was told "she is english; it is not a joke; she really is"; and i was shown to some children as a unique specimen: "look at her well; perhaps you will never see another." yet the country is so beautiful that it only requires to be known to attract plenty of strangers. having first asked me if i were quite sure i had a room that i could sleep in, they all wished me good-night. i said the room was good enough, and went to find out if i had spoken the truth, through into the stableyard. it was pitch dark and the rain was falling. i called for a light. something came out of the night, and i followed it up a rickety ladder and on to a wooden gallery. it thrust a tallow candle into my hand, and struck a match. the light revealed a lean, hairy man, bare-legged, bare-chested, and sparsely clad in dirty cotton garments. clasping the candle, i followed him into a very small room. it was a different one from the one i had been shown on arriving. there was an iron bedstead in it, covered with a wadded coverlet, and there were three nails in the wall. otherwise, nothing; not even a chair. the gentleman produced an empty bottle, stuck the candle into it, put it on the window sill, wished me good-night, and was going. "the room is not ready," said i firmly. he looked round in a bewildered manner and said it was, and shouted for female assistance. a stout lady panted up the stairs, beaming with good-nature. she apologised for the room. the best one contained four beds and they had quite meant me to have one of them, but unfortunately a family had arrived and taken all of them! it was most unlucky! i assured her that i did not mind having to sleep alone. but this room was not ready. she glanced round, appeared to realise its deficiencies, rushed off, and returned in triumph with a brush and comb. i thanked her, but said that what i wanted was some water to wash in. she seemed surprised at this, but went off again, and came back this time with a small glass decanter and a tumbler. i ended by getting a very small tin basin and a chair to stand it on. the seriousness of my preparations then dawned upon her, and of her own accord she brought me two towels and a little piece of peagreen soap stamped, in english, "best brown windsor." i had met this kind before. it is, i think, made in austria. the room proved to be quite clean, and i fared much better than i had expected. they were all as kind as possible, and in return i was as servian as i knew how to be, except that i never patronised the well in the stableyard, which is, i believe, the proper way of getting up in the morning--presuming that you are dirty enough to require washing. the stray officers who rode up without even a saddle-bag and passed the night at the inn were, as far as i could make out, satisfied with waxing their moustachios in the morning and having their boots polished, and the effect was much better than one would have expected. of course you are washed when you arrive. this is, most likely, the survival of some eastern reception ceremonial. it is a little surprising at first, but you soon get used to it. a girl or a man--the latter is usually my fate--invades your bedroom, shortly after you have been shown to it, with a little basin, a bottle of water, a towel, and a cake of the "best brown windsor." he holds out the basin solemnly and dribbles water over your outstretched hands, for it is very dirty to wash in standing water. when he thinks your hands are clean, he gives you the towel to dry them. then you have to hold them out again, and he pours more water on them; this you are supposed to rub on your face. this being accomplished, he retires, taking the apparatus with him. in the old days, it is said that foot-washing was part of the ceremony, but i am glad to say that this has now gone out of fashion. when asking for water, it is always necessary to add "that i may wash," for the servian invariably imagines that it is for internal application and brings it in a tumbler. these remarks apply, be it said, only to the inns in the villages; in the larger towns the arrangements are quite civilised as a rule, and quite clean. ivanitza was so kind to me, and so beautiful, that in spite of its primitive accommodation i stayed on. as long as the food is good, one can stand rough surroundings well enough. the long street of picturesque, tumbledown wooden shops straggles along the valley; the west morava tears through a wooded deep--cut gorge, and the cloud--capped mountains tower around. it is a lonely and lovely spot, and one that i shall never forget. on sunday afternoon there was a little festival, and we sallied forth to a meadow about a mile and a half away. an ox-cart or two brought chairs, tables, beer, bread and cherries--all that ivanitza required for a happy afternoon. i myself formed no small part of the entertainment, as all who had not yet made my acquaintance had now the chance of doing so. the priest arrived on horseback with his vestments in his saddle-bags. he made a little altar in the middle of the field with three sticks and a board, spread a cloth on it, and planted a green bush by the side. then the men stood round close to it, and the women stood behind very much in the background, and the service began. the incense curled thin and pale against the dark background of mountains that ringed us round, and the peasants, in their gayest and best, sang the responses heartily, while the oxen chewed cud alongside. suddenly down the narrow valley the sky turned dark and red; everything was blotted out by a dense storm-cloud that burst overhead almost immediately. the priest picked up his petticoats and books, and we all fled precipitately to a group of cowsheds a couple of hundred yards away, and crowded into them. the one i ran into was so dark that we could hardly see one another. i climbed out of the mud into the manger and held a sort of reception. i answered all the usual questions, and then they tried to find out my accomplishments by asking, "can you do this? can you do that?" etc. i did all my little tricks, and felt like a circus. finally it was suggested that i should sing--a thing i never do in public at home. the ever-increasing darkness suggested "abide with me," and i started boldly. when, however, i got as far as the words "and comforts flee," they struck me as being so ridiculously appropriate to the circumstances in which i found myself that i ended abruptly by laughing, which made the audience think that the song was a comic one and beg to hear more of it. but the storm was passing over, and though the rain was still falling and the water standing in pools, the devoted priest hurried out to finish the service; out rushed everybody from the sheds and plashed back to the meadow. by the time i arrived on the scene it was all in full swing, the incense rising and the sun struggling through a cloud-rift. as soon as it was over, music struck up and the kolo dance began, and, regardless of the wet, they frisked and splashed through the deep and sopping grass. even the doctor thought it was all right. when he told me later that he had a great many patients, because the place was so damp, i was not surprised. the weather did not seem likely to improve, and the police officer told me with a grin that whenever i said i wanted to go they hoped it would rain; now that i knew everyone i had better stay, and he called upon his friends to describe the horrors of my proposed route. but as i could not stay on indefinitely, i asked him to find me a man and a pony, and decided to risk a wetting. the start had to be made at 5 a.m., too early to see what manner of a day it was likely to be, and it is but a chilly hour at best. a border officer saw me off, and assured me i should find friends wherever i went, which cheered my rather depressed feeling that i was leaving all my friends behind me. i had come to the end of the road, and the onward track was very much a plunge into the unknown. the mist was thick and clammy as we struck up the mountain path, but was beginning to clear slowly. it was not a bad road at all. a montenegrin pony would have laughed at it, and a montenegrin man have done it on foot; but my guide was a servian and therefore required a mount, and the beasts were fat and sluggish. my baggage consisted of a small hand-bag and a little bundle. these i had carefully made of equal weight, meaning them for either side of my own saddle. regardless of the fact that i was by far the lighter weight of us two, the serb insisted on putting them on his own saddle and on tying them both on the same side. consequently, as the girths were very loose, his saddle kept turning round. this he strove to prevent by sitting crooked! as he obstinately persisted in this plan in spite of all i could do, he was perpetually re-saddling. i broke a switch from a bush, stirred up my pony and rode ahead in hopes of hurrying him; but all in vain, for i came to the end of the path in about half an hour, saw before me an endless succession of wild and apparently trackless valleys and mountains, and had to wait my guides arrival. he appeared at last, crawling along quite happily, and at once hopped off to take another futile pull at the girths. this time i succeeded in getting a better arrangement of the bags, which saved the twisting; but the saddle still slipped towards the beast's head going downhill, and towards its tail going uphill. moreover, both animals were weak in their hind fetlocks, and we had to dismount pretty often. luckily i had a pocketful of black bread handy, and as there seemed no prospect of ever arriving at a feeding-place, i gnawed crusts as i rode over that lonely land--land that has an awful magnificence, for it is untouched by the hand of man. silently we went through huge and dripping beech woods, dim with fog wreaths, where great trees lay and rotted where they had fallen, and silently out over rich grassy uplands where no flocks feed. deep valleys lay below us, and mountain peaks rose all around. for miles and miles it was absolutely lonely, there was no sign of a living thing and no sound save the squelching of our horses' hoofs in the deep wet leaf-mould. in a dip of the hills we came upon two most primitive villages, collections of wooden wigwams with high pitched roofs of twigs and branches; through their open doors i could see that they were mere unfurnished dens. wild--looking, ragged people squatted in the doorways, who stared like startled animals as i passed. nothing more primitive in the way of a village could exist. it seemed the kind of place that the romans might have come upon when they conquered ancient illyria, and i drew rein. my guide, however, was so determined that i should neither stop nor dismount that i thought he might be aware that its customs were illyrian also, and i yielded regretfully to his request, for the first time, to hurry on. at midday we reached another collection of huts, the village of mlantza, not quite so primitive as the last one, but all of wood. a man with a revolver and cartridge belt, one of the gendarmerie, was resting here and nursing his rifle. two very tall and incredibly ragged men came out of a hut, and at my guide's request made us some black coffee and boiled us some eggs. we off-saddled, and our ponies were soon blowing themselves out with grass and water, and there seemed every prospect of the girths fitting better after lunch. my guide said we must rest an hour, and inquired the way from the man with the rifle. i wondered that anyone knew it, for there was no track to be seen anywhere. there are not enough people even to wear a footpath. and folk live and die in these lonely spots, and a grave, quite fresh made, with a gaudily painted gravestone, stood close by. one or two men, black-eyed, barefooted, and in clothes that were torn to ribbons, sauntered up. none of them made an attempt to speak to me, and they scarcely exchanged a word with my guide. they were too far removed from the outer world to take any interest in it. they seemed part of the wild, dumb rocks and forests, and only the cluttering of the hens that came to pick up the crumbs i had dropped broke the heavy silence. my guide re-saddled the ponies, and we started off again. downhill most of the way, often very steep, and there was a good deal of dismounting and leading to be done. for some way the rocks were all of green serpentine in wildly contorted strata. a very tiny church stood high on a ledge, far up the mountain side, that looked quite inaccessible from below; one of those built as a retreat by the early kings; a lone wilderness in which some soul had wrestled with temptation, or more probably striven to expiate guilt. and this and the primitive wooden huts of the morning were the only buildings i saw on that long ten hours' ride, until at last, in the valley below, the little white church and the monastery of studenitza came in sight. down past the back of the monastery buildings we joggled, and round to the door of the little inn, where i dismounted thankfully, stiff and somewhat dazed. the kindly peasants who thronged the little bare room made a place for us, and refrained from questioning me till i had eaten a huge meal of rye bread, red wine, onions and kaimak, which was all that the place afforded, and i ate with an appetite that delighted everyone. revived and cheered by the food, the wine, and the company, i arose when the inevitable interview was over and strolled across to the open gate of the monastery. within the walls lay smooth green lawns from which arose the little lily church, its white marble pale gold with age; beyond were the quaint wood and plaster buildings of the monastery, with wide wooden balconies and tall bell tower. little acacias, clipped to round balls, were ranged stiffly along the paths, the air was heavy with the scent of lime blossoms, and a stillness so dead that it seemed supernatural hung over all. i stole quietly round the church, which was shut, and saw no living creature. as i was returning i came face to face with an armed youth, a picturesque figure who, but for his weapons, looked very mediæval in closely-fitting black leg-gear of the albanian pattern and a very short straight jacket. his feet were shod with leathern sandals, into the straps of which were twisted long spurs; his rifle was slung on his back; the bright green cord to which his revolver was fastened hung round his neck, and his cartridge belt was well filled. he stood up straight, a lithe slim young thing, saluted with great style, and told me that he was a "pandur" (gendarme), had been sent over from rashka to take care of me and to escort me thither when i was ready to go. meanwhile he was entirely at my service. his captain had received a telegram about me from ivanitza and had sent him at once. he added that rashka expected me and wanted to see me. i was greatly astonished. i had intended going to kraljevo. the pandur looked grieved. he thought evidently that he should have failed in his duty to his captain if he did not produce me at rashka. impelled largely, i confess, by a wicked desire to have such a very good-looking fellow at my beck and call, i was inquiring the means of arriving at rashka, when the pandur said suddenly, in an awestruck whisper, "gospoditza, here is the archimandrite!" and there was the archimandrite himself advancing slowly down the path towards us. a very beautiful old man, with a kindly, benevolent face, tall and stately in his black robes and high velvet hat. his long grey hair flowed over his shoulders, and he fingered a string of amber beads as he came along. the pandur bared his head, dropped on one knee reverently and kissed the hand extended to him, and i wondered miserably whether it would be foolish or polite to follow his example. the archimandrite relieved me at once by shaking hands with me and welcoming me to studenitza. anyone who had come so far, he said, must be his guest. it would have been grossly rude to refuse such a kindly-meant invitation, but i accepted it with fear. to the manners and customs of a servian inn i was now accustomed. the primitive building outside the monastery walls suddenly seemed to me to be a homelike and wholly desirable resting-place, and the monastery was a strange unknown world. the pandur, on the other hand, was filled with joy. "this is very, very good," he whispered to me; "they are very rich here"; and we followed the archimandrite over the lawn to the long low guest building on the other side, up a wooden staircase and along a long blue-and-white corridor, to a room at the end which he offered me. it was a beautiful room, luxuriously furnished. i accepted it gratefully, and the pandur whispered his admiration and enthusiasm. he was sent off at once to fetch my bag from the inn, and the archimandrite, who was greatly overcome at learning that i had come on horseback from ivanitza, begged that i would rest myself. to-morrow, he said, i should see all, and was at liberty to draw what i pleased. at what time would i have supper? he added with a little smile, "i fear that to-day i cannot feed you well. we are monks here, and it is one of our great fasts." (it was that of ss. peter and paul.) he knew no word of any language but servian, and waited patiently while i looked up words in the dictionary. i told him i would eat whatever they had. "but no," he said, and he shook his head; "those of our own church do not keep these fasts as they should. for us monks it is our duty; but for you, who are a stranger, it is different." his words i can give, but not the charm of his manner, nor his simple dignity and his courtesy. his amber beads clicked as he went. and when he had gone there was a great silence, and i sat at the window and stared at the little white church and at the mountain that rose up just behind it. the world beyond was a vague, far-off recollection; part of a previous existence. i felt that i had passed all my life in that lonely hollow among the hills, and then wondered whether i had any right to be there at all. but i did not wish to ever forget the scene, and in spite of the old man's recommendation to sleep, i coiled up on the window-sill and began a drawing. time passed like a flash, and the light was rapidly dying, when i became aware of the clink of spurs and the clicking of the amber beads, and the archimandrite followed by a servant and my pandur, bearing lamp and supper, came in a little procession down the corridor. i had not realised till then that i was to sup with the archimandrite himself. he was distressed that i remained standing, and spoke to the pandur, who hurried away, and returned with a big and throne-like arm-chair. meanwhile nikola the servant spread two newspapers on the table, put the lamp in the middle and arranged the plates and dishes. then he placed a small cane-bottomed chair and stood attention by it. my pandur drew himself up by the arm-chair, the archimandrite motioned me to it ceremoniously, murmured a blessing, and took his seat. he tucked his large table napkin under his chin, spread the other end of it on the table and stood his plate upon it, thus making a bridge from food to mouth. foolishly, i did not imitate him, but put mine on my knees. now the tablecloth was a product of western civilisation, of that make called "tapestry" in tottenham court road. it was black-and-yellow, and round the border were pyramids, palm trees, camels, arabs and damsels--a very secular tablecloth. it was greatly treasured by the old man, and the centre only was protected by newspaper. he was distressed to see that i did not know how to use a table napkin, but he was far too polite to say so. he murmured something to nikola, and before i had realised the mistake i had made, nikola returned with another newspaper, which he put under my plate. then the meal began. "nikola, serve rakija," said the archimandrite, and nikola filled two little glasses with slivovitz and put them before us. "this," said the archimandrite, "is from our own plums," and he raised his glass and bowed gravely; i raised mine; he clinked with it. "god give you health," he said, and drained his glass. i drained mine, and restrained a violent desire to gasp as the spirit went down like a red-hot poker, for it was the fieriest liqueur i had ever met. "nikola, serve the rakija," said the archimandrite again, and we repeated the ceremony. i left some at the bottom of my glass. he pointed this out, and waited patiently. i swallowed it. "nikola, serve the rakija," said the archimandrite a third time. "no, thank you," said i timidly. "three times is servian," he said pleasantly. my glass was filled. "god give you health," said i bravely; we clinked, and the ceremony was completed. with a burning gullet, i began dinner. there was no sign of anything else to drink. bread, cheese, kaimak, onions and poached eggs were spread before me, and a dish of haricot beans and a lettuce before him. "you had better see what i eat," he said, with a funny little smile; "your friends in england will wish to know how an archimandrite in servia lives." i had my dictionary and struggled hard to follow his conversation and to reply, but was sometimes entirely lost, for the strain after the long day was almost more than i could stand. a very great many english, he told me, had been to studenitza. i was surprised. he counted upon his fingers, and said that since 1865, including myself, there had been eight. "yes," he said gaily, "here we know the english very well, and your church is not unlike our own," feeling quite unequal to discussing theology in servian, i did not rise to this remark. "at any rate," he said cheerfully, "we both dislike the pope." "how old are you?" asked the archimandrite. i told him. "and you are not married?" he said. i agreed. "that, gospoditza," and he bowed to me, "is very good--it is the best"; and the pandur smiled a little smile under his moustache. nikola removed our plates, and appeared with three small trout on a dish. very excellent trout, fresh from the river, which the archimandrite shared with me with great relish. but he seemed anxious and had little private housekeeping whispers with nikola, and produced large keys furtively from his flowing garments. the good man was certain i had not had enough. i assured him i had had plenty; but nikola returned presently with a small mutton ham, off which he chipped pieces which he offered me. meanwhile my pandur had removed my knife, fork, and plate. the archimandrite remedied this by taking his own fork, wiping it on the newspaper and presenting it to me ceremoniously. i accepted it in the spirit in which it was offered and ate as many of the little pieces of meat as i could manage, thereby pleasing my host a good deal more than myself, and the meal was concluded. it was a dry meal. we now began to wash it down. "nikola, serve the wine," said his master. nikola appeared with a bottle of red wine and two small tumblers. the archimandrite uttered pious wishes for my welfare, we clinked and drank together. i perceived very shortly that politeness did not permit him to take more while there was any left in my glass, and hoped that he was not very thirsty. he, on his part, tried to encourage me by saying that it was excellent wine and not at all strong, and the latter part of the remark fortunately was perfectly true. when i thought we had nearly done, nikola again went on a mysterious errand, and returned with two young monks to whom i was introduced. the two younger men were more interested in the outer world than the old one, and i had to work the dictionary hard. then came more wine, fortunately not much, for we all four had to clink with each other and utter polite wishes, and this occupied time and made a little go a long way. obedient to the archimandrite, we raised and emptied our glasses simultaneously with military precision. each day of my life seemed stranger than the last, and i wondered how much longer this one was to be, for i had begun it at 4 a.m. when at 9.30 they arose and wished me good-night, i was more grateful to them than for anything they had yet done for me. towels, curtains, bed linen, all were pious offerings to the monastery. each was embroidered with the donor's name and a motto, and the cushions were covered with beings who looked painfully like cupids but were doubtless cherubim. but none of these interesting facts did i discover till the next morning, when the monastery bell clanged loudly at four o'clock and woke me up. i struggled with a desire to sleep for several days, but as i had to see the church, draw it, and ride to rashka, i got up at five and went out into the corridor. all the land was hidden in a dense white mist. the moisture clung clammily to tree and wall, and fell heavily, plap, plap, to the ground, and i shivered in a thin cotton shirt. nikola appeared almost immediately with coffee and milk and bread, and my pandur with my coat, and, by the time i had breakfasted, the archimandrite was waiting below to show me the church. the old man unlocked the door, and he, i, and the pandur went in. we entered a narthex, a late addition to the church which spoils its proportions, and saw before us the original west front of the building, all of pure white marble, and the exquisite doorway--a square-headed door surmounted by a lunette with the figure of the virgin between two angels in high relief, and framed with the most delicate mouldings upon which the fanciful monsters and arabesques of byzantine art interlace, and the invention and execution are alike perfect. a small detached pier standing upon the back of a grotesque beast, as in the early churches of the north italian towns, stood on either side of the door and supported the projecting upper mouldings; but they have both been sadly mutilated, for the turks occupied the imperial monastery (tsarska lavra) and stabled their horses in its church. to do them justice, however, they did not treat the building more cruelly than our own countrymen treated our own cathedrals, and much of the carving is as clean cut as when stefan nemanja raised it, in 1190. the archimandrite sighed over the mutilations, but was pleased at my delighted appreciation of his church. we passed into the old building, through the little old narthex, into the body of the church. this is entirely frescoed, but the paintings are all newly restored, except those just inside the door, where great figures of weird byzantine ascetics, the hermit saints--onofrio, marcus, peter antony, and alexis--show grimly in the original fresco, and a rude painting of the last supper with fragments of some other subjects still cling to the walls. the north and south doors have also been beautiful, but they have suffered more severely than that of the west. of the windows, one only is intact; the others have been adequately restored. the present dome, a recent and very poor attempt in plaster, is to be shortly replaced. again the old man bewailed the destruction wrought by the turks. "and it is your own country that has helped them," he said sadly, and shook his head. he showed me the treasures of the church, the shrine of st. simeone (king stefan nemanja) and the great silver casket, adorned with reliefs of scenes from the saints life, presented by alexander karageorgevich, in which to worthily preserve the sacred relics. he called the pandur to assist him, and together the young soldier and the archimandrite unfolded with exceeding care the splendid crimson velvet covering for it, a gift from the then reigning king (alexander obrenovich), destined to cover the shrine on the saint's day. the archimandrite looked at it lovingly, the pandur with awe and amazement, and then they tenderly put it away again, while i wondered over the much detested king who had presented it, and the king who had died seven hundred years ago and had wrought so well for his land that he is yet revered in it as a saint. in spite of time and the turks, the imperial monastery still preserves many of its old treasures, church vessels and vestments. a magnificent crimson-and-gold one, the archimandrite told me, undoubtedly belonged to st. sava, and it may have done so; but a gilt censer, also said to be the saint's, one of the church's precious relics which he looked on with believing eyes, betrays both by design and workmanship that it is of a later date. there was a very old reliquary, also the property of st. sava, and there were three or four old manuscript books, and all he handled with a simple pride that was pretty to see. the last cupboard that he unlocked was perhaps the most interesting of all to me, for it contained a mass of votive offerings, most of them personal ornaments, splendid specimens of turkish, albanian, bosnian, and herzegovinian work, things barbaric and beautiful, choice examples of the finest native work, some of it undoubtedly very old. the last of the treasures was locked up again, and we left the treasury. [illustration: church, studenitza, west door.] then the pandur and the archimandrite had a little discussion, and the kind old man told me that the ride to rashka was a long one, that i had better stay until to-morrow, then i should have time to draw the church and to rest. i was his guest, and he begged i would stay. the church should be left open, and i might draw what i pleased. i accepted the more gratefully as the sky threatened rain and it was damp and cold. he instructed the pandur to bring a table and chair into the church, and then i was left to my own devices. the time flew, and when i heard the clink of spurs on the marble floor, and the pandur saluting said, "are you hungry?" i merely said "no," and went on. when, however, he reappeared in about twenty minutes and repeated his inquiry with an anxious face, i looked at my watch, realised i had been working for four hours, and hastily followed him to the corridor, where the poor archimandrite was pacing up and down by the table, evidently wanting his dinner badly, and much relieved by my appearance. the forms observed were much the same as on the previous evening, and he talked of the sad state of "our people" in macedonia and old servia, and lamented that the quarrels of great nations should cause the suffering of little ones. "between your country and russia we can do nothing. you keep the turk in europe." a portrait of peter the great hung on the wall. here, as everywhere else in servia, i found russia the serbs' only hope of salvation. i spent the afternoon drawing the monastery buildings. it was very still, and the plash of the tiny fountain and the clink of the pandur's spurs as he hovered about me were the only sounds. the air was heavy with lime blossom; now and then a long-haired, black-robed monk glided silently by, and it was all unreal and dream-like. as evening drew on i heard the clicking of the amber beads, and the archimandrite appeared. "you are always doing something," he said; "you have no rest. they say all the english are like that"; and he instructed nikola to bring me a glass of slivovitz and a plateful of jam. nor did his kindness and courtesy ever cease, and his stately black figure bowing farewell was the last i saw of him as i passed through the monastery gates in the early morning and rode out into the world again with my escort. this time i made good progress, for the pandur was no slug. i followed him up a torrent bed, over stock and stone, in a pretty straight line to the top of the mountain ridge, where we struck the high road, and after resting the horses an hour, rode easily down into and along the valley of the i bar. the nearer we got to the frontier the more conversational the youth became. he pointed out the ruins of two churches burnt by the turks, and then cried, "see, here they are!" as a cart full of turbaned men creaked down the road. "turks!" he said with contempt, "all turks!" as a turn in the road revealed a hill at the end of the valley crowned with a building, "there is the turkish fortress," he said, "and the frontier." "that is all turkish?" i asked, pointing ahead. "it is old servia" (stara srbija), he replied firmly. i was on the edge of the coveted land, and the cartridges in my companion's belt were meant for those who hold it. rashka is a tiny village on the very edge. we pulled up at the inn door, and the pandur went off to report me to the authorities. they arrived almost at once, the nachelnik and the police captain, reinforced by the doctor, who spoke a little french, and a friendly youth who spoke some german. i was dimly aware of questions in three languages, blinked at them helplessly, and said that i was going to sleep. at which they all laughed, wished me good repose, and left me. by the time i had slept off studenitza and the ride, the pandur had reported that i drew, also that i had been in montenegro. consequently, when i reappeared, i had a festive time over my sketch-book with the authorities. pictures "done by hand" were quite a new idea. rashka, a tiny place, was founded in 1846. it is only the fact that it is on the very edge that makes it a place at all. it feels itself very important, and its talk is of turks, and of macedonia and of old servia. that i must cross the line and be able to say that i had been in old servia was taken for granted. it was discussed as seriously as though it was a raid we were about to make. having the permission of the police and having reported our proposed expedition to the nachelnik, who saw no objection to it, the doctor and the gentleman-who-spoke-german escorted me through a sentry-guarded gate to a wooden bridge guarded at one end by a servian and at the other by a turkish soldier. we explained that we had come to see someone-effendi, and were allowed to pass. on this side the river there is nothing but a custom-house, a coffee-shop, and a cottage or two. from the bridge the track winds to novibazar, which is but three hours distant, and, on the hills above, two fortresses guard it. i could get there and back in a day, and imparted the notion at once to my companions, who were horrified, and thought that the chances of returning were extremely remote. the servian frontier regards the turk as hopelessly untrustworthy. it has had, at any rate, plenty of opportunity of judging. we waited humbly the appearance of someone-effendi, quite on our p's and q's. the enemy soon appeared, rather grubby, in a tarboosh and a scrubby european overcoat. my presence was explained. we were all very polite to one another. i was irresistibly reminded of the meeting of two dogs who approach each other growling from opposite sides of the road, decide not to bite, wag stiff tails and pretend to be glad to see one another, while their bristles stand up on their backs. chairs were brought, we were asked to sit down, and the inevitable black coffee appeared. then i was told that as i was in turkey i must see the coffee-shop, and we adjourned thither. the owner of it, a burly handsome fellow with a yellow moustache and eyes as blue as an anglo-saxon's, sprawled, picturesque in black-and-white striped costume, on the bench in the balcony. he was friendly, and we had more coffee and some sticky sweet stuff, while he smoked cigarettes in a holder the mouthpiece of which was a fine lump of amber and the stem black wood and silver filigree. "he is a turk," said my companions. "he doesn't look like one," said i; for every mohammedan calls himself a "turk," and this one was like a fair albanian. they repeated my remark to him, upon which he laughed and said that he did not speak turkish. he wore a very handsome silver chain round his neck, and that and the cigarette-holder attracted my attention. "those are from skodra," i said. he beamed. "you know skodra!" and he vowed gleefully that of all cities in the world skodra was the finest, and appealed to me to support him. my companions were incredulous, they had never been there. the statement that i had been there twice satisfied him, and he smiled at me frankly, for now we knew that we had the same tastes. "you have seen the bazaar?" i nodded. "oh, that is fine, very fine," he said. the bazaar would indeed have been a suitable background for him; i could imagine him cheerily filling up the gaps in his cartridge belt, and even more cheerily fighting on the turkish side against all and any who should wish to force western ideas into that and other happy hunting grounds. drinks differ in all lands, but everywhere it is correct to offer and accept too much of them; so we drank an inordinate quantity of coffee, said farewell to the effendi, and were soon safely off the premises and in our own territory. the captain took me a walk along the servian frontier by the rivers side, a rich and beautiful land ablaze with a wonderful variety of wild flowers; only the two turkish fortresses kept in mind the fact that the green land across the narrow stream was one of the sorest spots in europe. the captain's tale of a boy who had been shot not long before by the turks was concluded as we came in sight of the last fort, and we turned back. i think we went about three miles and took an hour over it; but the captain was very warm, and all his friends agreed that the english walked at an alarming pace. by request, i made a drawing. it was of the frontier, the turkish custom-house, and the fort-capped hill. it was supposed that it would annoy the turks greatly if they knew, but they didn't. "and where," i asked, "are your forts? i have only seen turkish ones." "oh," was the cheerful answer, "forts are for defence--we are only going forward!" rashka was very hospitable. it gave me coffee; it gave me wine, beer, jam, water, eggs and bacon; it entertained me to the best of its ability. i was sorry to leave it, but time pressed. the diligence said it would start at 5 a.m., but did not do so till 6; i hung about waiting. it was a perfect morning; the mountains were blue on a pale lemon sky, and the grass was hoary with dew. "what a beautiful day!" i said to a man who was standing by the inn door. "no," he said gloomily; "to-day is kosovo day. that was a bad day for us." it was june 15 (o.s.). in the churches throughout the country there were solemn services in memory of the defeat in 1389, and there in front of us was stara srbija across the river. the diligence proved to be a springless cart with a basket-work top, and as the horses were poor and the roads bad, we were eleven and a half hours upon that road, instead of eight, as i had been promised. it was dark when at last the crazy vehicle jogged painfully into kraljevo. kraljevo ("the town of the kings") did not receive me amiably. i crawled into the hotel stiff and sore, was awaiting soup, and had just sent off my letter of introduction, when a severe personage in black arose from a little table at the other end of the room and made straight for me. striking his hand heavily on the table to compel my attention, he said very loudly, "you have come from rashka?" he spoke servian, and did not even stop to inquire if i understood it. having a clear conscience and an introduction to one of the leading men of the town, i returned his stare and said "yes." "you will leave here to-morrow morning," he asserted. "no," said i firmly. we paused for a moment. "have you a passport?" he asked. "yes," said i. "show it me at once." "it is a very good passport," i remarked, spreading it on the table; "it is english." i watched with some amusement his vain and elaborate pretence of deciphering it. then he said, "when are you going?" "i don't know," said i. he chose to imagine that this meant i did not understand, so he shouted the question at me again very aggressively. as i meant him to know that it was no use chivying the english, i said, "perhaps monday, perhaps tuesday, i do not know." "you will leave to-morrow early," he said. i reflected that if i did not stand to my guns the next british subject would have a bad time; so i said firmly, "i will not. i am english, and that passport is good." he looked at it again, reflected that, if it were good, things might become awkward, threw it down, and left abruptly. "good-night," said i, but he did not respond. shortly afterwards the two gentlemen to whom i had been recommended came on the scene. they were so anxious to help me in every way that i did not betray the fact that i had already had a skirmish. but the landlord did. next day i learned that my aggressor was the nachelnik (burgomaster) himself, and that my new friends were extremely angry with him. he was introduced to me and told by whom i was recommended. he looked at me suspiciously, shook hands in a guarded manner, and spied furtively at my sketch-book, which was lying open on the table. i immediately offered it him for inspection, but it did not reassure him at all. greatly to my surprise, however, he volunteered to take me for a drive in the afternoon. as i was quite used to being suspected, i only thought the episode funny; but my two acquaintances were so much upset about it that i was sorry they had been told. kraljevo still figures on most of the maps as karanovatz, and has only recently been re-named. zhitza, the monastery church where the kings of the nemanja line were crowned, is once again servias coronation-place. a melancholy monument of former greatness, it stands upon rising ground about a mile and a half from the town, and a long straight avenue, fit background for a royal procession, leads up to it. the church itself, built in 1210 by st. sava, still stands. here he crowned his eldest brother and announced him as prvovenchani, the "first crowned." of the monastery founded some years later by the said stefan nothing now exists but a few rocky masses of wall. the turks wrecked the royal building, the richest monastery in servia, and left the church in ruins. the church is byzantine in character, with a large cupola and two smaller ones (all three restorations), and a round apse. it is barrel-vaulted, and has two tiny chapels. the walls are still covered with old frescoes, for fortunately the monastery is too poor to afford re-decorating. it has been frescoed twice. the upper layer, which shows strong italian influence and might indeed be by an italian hand, dates from the sixteenth century--an interesting fact, as it shows that though under turkish rule, the monastery must then have still been fairly rich. the lower layer, which is visible where the upper is broken away, i believe to be contemporaneous with the church, but could get no information at all about it. half the building has been restored and roofed. the other end is entirely in ruins; its tall tower only is well preserved. in the side walls of the ruins are blocked-up openings. i was told they were doors, they looked like windows. where the blocking stones are loose, you can see the fresco that clings to the sides and sills--fresco of the earlier kind, showing that the openings were blocked previous to the re-painting of the walls. one of these openings was built up at each coronation, i was told--a curious custom that requires explanation. all that i could learn was that the "doorways" proved the "fact," and the "fact" accounted for the "doorways." six kings of the old days were crowned here, it is said. the first was stefan prvovenchani; who the others were i have failed to learn. the personages of servian history are apt to loom large through a fog of uncertainty and to elude all attempts at exact information. the tradition of coronation has been revived, and alexander obrenovich was here crowned king. it was just a week before the day appointed for the coronation of edward vii. when i stood in the roofless ruins of the hall of servia's kings, and i felt glad that we were at the other end of europe when the turks came. in the archway under the tower are some fairly preserved frescoes, and a crowned figure, said to be a portrait of stefan prvovenchani himself, stares from the ruins of the building raised to glorify his line. the likeness, i take it, is a purely fancy one. these were the last old frescoes i saw in servia. all of them tell the same tale, namely, that judging by the architecture, the costume, furniture, and various articles for domestic use that appear in them, the servians of those days were not behind europe in general civilisation. my guide, a friendly young monk, knew naught of architecture, and his ideas of history were but vague. as we came out of the church, up came a second monk, a young man with a dark flat face, coal-black hair, and a strange eastern cast of countenance that seemed oddly familiar to me. he greeted me at once, and began a long tale of how he had met me at ostrog, in montenegro, the year before. the other monk and my servian companion cried, naturally astounded, "this gentleman says that he knows you!" it turned out that he was a pupil of the monk at the chapel of our lady among the rocks, by podgoritza. "you too," said he to me, "know him"; and he spoke of him with great affection and reverence, and accounted him holy. i was deeply interested to find that the gentle ascetic of the albanian frontier was revered in central servia. that i, a londoner, should be the one to bring news of him seemed to me not a little strange. but to the black monk there was nothing strange about it. "he said that god guided your footsteps," said he, and he added, as an explanation to the others, "she is the friend of the montenegrins." after this, i had to go and take jam and water and coffee with the archimandrite, and tell how i had been to the little chapel that very easter and had received the hermit's easter greeting. i said good-bye to the kindly, simple-minded monastery, and i returned to the worldly suspicions of civic life. the nachelnik never appeared in the afternoon, and i determined not to say anything about it. but when my friend and champion reappeared, he asked me point-blank as to how the nachelnik had behaved on the afternoon's drive, and there was no help for it. he flew off in a rage to attack the nachelnik. he came back even more angry. the nachelnik had said that he had decided he would not be mixed up with the affair and had then turned the tables on him and questioned him as to all i had done in the morning. "what did she do? where did she go? with whom did she speak? what did she draw? did she talk politics, and what did you tell her?" "i told her," he said furiously, "that the servians are fools and that it is a waste of her time to come and see them. and she shall stay if she wishes, and draw anything she likes!" he begged me not to think that they were all so ignorant. the nachelnik of kraljevo was in fact the only official in servia who was unpleasant to me, and even he succumbed more or less to a british passport. i left kraljevo pleasantly enough, for the last person i saw as i rattled out of the town was the young black monk smiling and waving his hand. chapter xvi krushevatz upon the eve of the day when tsar lazar was to go forth, says the ballad, his wife, militza the empress, spoke to him, saying, "o tsar lazar, thou golden crown of servia, to-morrow thou goest to kosovo and with thee thy chieftains and thy followers. not one man dost thou leave behind thee at the castle who may carry news to thee at kosovo and return again to me. thou takest with thee all my nine brethren, the nine sons of old yug bogdan. o tsar lazar, i beseech thee, of my nine brothers leave me one of them." and tsar lazar answered, "o militza, my lady and my empress, which one of thy brethren dost thou wish should remain with thee in the white castle?" and she said, "leave me boshko jugovich." and he answered, "o my lady militza, speak thyself to boshko jugovich the barjaktar (standard-bearer), and bid him, with my blessing, yield up his standard and remain with thee." [illustration: tsar lazar's castle.] now when the white dawn broke and the gates of the town were thrown open, the lady militza went down, and she stood before the gateway, and behold, there came the soldiers upon their horses, rank upon rank, and at their head was boshko the barjaktar upon a bay steed, and he glittered with gold, and the golden fringes of the standard hung upon his shoulders. then the empress militza turned towards him, and she seized the bay by the bridle; she stayed her brother by the gateway, and softly she spoke to him, saying, "o my brother boshko jugovich! the tsar has given thee to me, and he gives thee his blessing. thou shalt not go to the fight at kosovo. thou shalt yield up thy banner and remain with me at krushevatz." but boshko the barjaktar replied unto her, "go thou to the white tower, my sister. not for all krushevatz would i return with thee, nor will i give up my standard, that all men may say 'boshko jugovich is afear'd; he dare not go to kosovo to shed his blood for the cross and to die with his fellows,'" and he spurred his horse through the gates. then followed old yug bogdan and seven sons in battle array and all in order, and they would not look upon her. then behold! the youngest, vojina jugovich, and he led the tsar's grey war-horse, which was decked and trapped with gold. and he too denied her, and he urged the steed through the gateway. and when the lady militza heard his words she fell down upon the cold stones, and her soul fainted within her. and lo, there came tsar lazar himself, and when he saw the empress the tears flowed down his cheeks. he called to his faithful follower, goluban, saying, "goluban, my trusty servant, alight from thy steed, take my lady by her white hand and lead her to the tower. may god's blessing be upon thee! thou comest not with me to the fight at kosovo, for thou shalt remain with my lady here in the white castle." and when goluban heard these words the tears ran down his face. he alighted from his horse, he took his lady by her white hand and he led her to the tower. but he could not withstand the desire which burnt in his heart; he mounted his horse and he rode to the fight at kosovo. when the next day dawned, there came two black ravens from the wide field of kosovo, and they settled upon the white tower. and one of them croaked, and the other cried, "is this the tower of the mighty lazar?" the empress militza heard them, and she stepped forth from the white castle, crying, "god save you, o ye ravens! have ye seen the meeting of two mighty armies?" and they answered her, saying, "god save thee, o empress. we have flown from kosovo field. we have seen the meeting of the mighty armies, and the leader of either is slain. lo, lady, here comes thy servant milutin, and he sways in his saddle from right to left; for he has seventeen wounds upon him, and his blood streams upon his steed." and the empress called to him, "o milutin, why hast thou deserted thy tsar at kosovo?" but milutin answered her, "take me from my horse, o lady; wash me with cold water; give me red wine, for i am sorely stricken." and she did as he begged her. and when he had come to himself a little, she prayed of him, "o milutin, what has come to pass upon the field of kosovo? where is the glorious tsar lazar? where are old yug bogdan and his nine sons?" then the serving-man began to speak. "lady, they all lie on the field at kosovo by the cold waters of the sitnitza, and where tsar lazar fell there are many weapons broken, and the serbs lie thick around him. and old yug bogdan and his nine sons fell in the front of the fight: all are dead, lady, and the last that fell was boshko jugovich. milosh is dead that slew tsar murad, and dead also is banovich strahinja that fought knee-deep in blood. all lie dead on the field at kosovo; all save yuk brankovich, whose name be for ever accursed. he betrayed the emperor; upon the field of battle he betrayed all glorious lazar!" * * * * * on the hill in the midst of krushevatz there stands one shattered lonely fragment of the white castle up against the sky--all that is left of tsar lazar's palace. but time has worked its revenges, and the turkish mosque that was built of its stones in the town below is now too but a heap of ruins. the church, which dates from the days of the great tsar dushan (_circa_ 1350), alone has survived the warring of the nations. used as a powder magazine by the turks and all the interior decoration destroyed, the exquisite details of its tracery still make krushevatz worth a journey; its delicate pierced work, round windows laced with stone, strange monsters and wild byzantine fancies--in a word, its barbaric imaginativeness, struck me as more characteristic of its land and times than anything i met with in servia. [illustration: church, krushevatz, side window of apse.] here as elsewhere the restorations are not skilful, but servia should always be deeply grateful to alexander karageorgevich, who with such means as he could command saved her most interesting monuments from complete ruin. better an unsatisfactory roof than no roof at all. for a brief time, during the first reign of michael obrenovich, krushevatz was again the capital. now it is merely an industrious and flourishing country town, and a most friendly one. no one suspected me, although i came with no letter of introduction, nor was i cross-questioned about personal and political matters. from krushevatz i drove to stalacs, and at stalacs is a railway station. ponies, post-waggons, carriages and mountain tracks, and the life of the old world were all left behind, and i was soon whirled back to belgrade, where the pale blue youth in the police bureau welcomed me back, and forbade the officials in search of town dues to open my bundle. and when for the goodness--knows--how--manyeth and last time he stamped my passport, that i might leave belgrade altogether, he remarked cheerfully, "and now, gospoditza, please speak well of us. tell all your friends to come to servia, and come back yourself." * * * * * postscript recent political events make it necessary to add a few words to the account of servia written in 1902. that the king was not popular i was aware before i went to servia, but i was unprepared to find things at such an acute stage. through all the land i did not hear one good word spoken of him. that he was more fool than knave was the best said of him. for him there was nothing but contempt. what was said of draga by an exasperated people it is impossible to repeat. the hatred of her was deep and bitter. as to the truth of the accusations, i have no means of judging. i can only say that they were believed not only in servia, but in montenegro, and by the serbs of old servia. and everywhere i heard of peter karageorgevich, so that there was no possible doubt as to who would be the successor. i was even asked by partisans of his to write up their cause in england. the only english tourist, i was told, who had lately written about servia, had done great harm by writing up the obrenovich. people were very bitter indeed about this, and begged me to tell england the true state of things. that the king must go, and that at no distant date, seemed certain. that his fate would be so terrible, i had no idea. nor would it have been so, i believe, but for his headstrong obstinacy. his father, in spite of his many and glaring faults, never entirely lost the affection of the army. he was of the handsome, dashing, jovial type that wins popularity, but the unfortunate alexander had none of his fathers redeeming points. his short and luckless reign, which began with an act of treachery, was a series of hopeless blunders; he had five _coups d'état_ and twenty-four ministries. his fatal entanglement with draga maschin was the beginning of the end. heedless of the entreaties of both his parents and blind towards the duty he owed his country, he paid no attention to the prayers of friends, relatives, or statesmen, and married her in july 1900. he never saw either his father or his mother again, and his country never forgave him. to save a revolution, i was told it was prepared to do so even then, in the eleventh hour, if he would divorce draga. the people viewed with growing dismay the elevation of her relatives, and the rumoured scheme to make her brother heir provoked the final outburst. the truth about what took place in the early hours of june 11 will probably never be exactly known. those who took part in the tragedy were too drunk with blood and passion to give a coherent account, and there are at least half a dozen versions. nor does it greatly matter. the fact remains that the mass of the serbs desired the removal of the king and queen; it was effected, and many of those who shuddered at their awful end said, "since it is done, it is well done." more than this, very many hailed it as a holy and righteous act, a cleansing of the temple, a purification, a casting out of abominations; nor could i make any of those who were of this opinion see it from any other point of view. the king and queen, they held, had sinned against the laws of god and man, and were justly executed. "they could have been tried," i said. "they could not. one or other of the powers would have intervened, to further its own plans." this is probably true. "they could have been expelled," i said. "we have tried that too often," was the grim reply; "with an expelled monarch in an enemy's land, there is no peace. their guilt was known. alexander could have abdicated any time in the last two years. he had his choice, and preferred to remain on the throne. the court was no better than a house of ill-fame, and the servians who tolerated it were a scandal to europe." and this they honestly believed. in montenegro i found the view taken of female virtue was curiously old testament. it is the pride of the montenegrin that a woman may travel by day or night in his land alone and in perfect safety. but draga they considered to have overstepped all right to protection or consideration. "all such women ought to be shot," said the elder of a large group of men briefly. the others agreed, and i saw by their eyes that they meant it. things look so different from the other end of europe that i caught myself reflecting that, after all, two penn'orth of cartridges would save us many most unsavoury proceedings in the divorce court, and settle matters once for all about as fairly. only those, and they are few, who have travelled in west europe knew how the deed would be regarded there, and understood the terrible nature of the step. these foretold that the reign of king peter would be brief and troublous. it is idle to speculate about the future. it is equally idle to pretend that the events which have raised king peter to the throne of his grandfather can be regarded in the light of an unmixed blessing to the nation. the crime of blood-guiltiness always has to be atoned for, and the serbs must work out their own salvation. meanwhile it must not be forgotten that they cannot fairly be judged by twentieth-century standards. servia has had nearly four centuries of turkish rule. while west europe was advancing in humanity, civilisation, and the arts of peace, the people of the balkans rotted helpless under a ruler who, whatever other good qualities he may possess, has never yet done anything to improve the lot of the peoples under him. and should these people sin, and sin heavily, those nations who have helped to keep the turk in europe, and so to prolong their degradation and demoralisation, are not innocent of all share in the causes of their crime, and have no right to throw stones. part iii montenegro and old servia 1903 "if a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shews he is a citizen of the world and that his heart is no island cut off from other lands, but a continent that joynes them." chapter xvii kolashin--andrijevitza--berani--pech we are apt to speak of the serbs of servia as "the" servians, and to forget that modern servia is a recent state mapped out arbitrarily by the powers, and that the truest representatives of the great servian empire are the montenegrins, who for five centuries have fought "the foe of their faith and freedom" and have lived for an ideal, the redemption of the nation. it has been said that every nation gets the government that it deserves. if so, montenegro has deserved greatly. instances, it is true, have not been wanting of the serb tendency to split into parties, which has been so fatal to the serb people and now threatens to ruin modern servia; but in the hour of need montenegro has always found a strong man to guide her and has had the sense to trust to his guidance. she can point with pride to a line of petrovich princes who, even in the darkest and most hopeless days, have striven not only to maintain freedom, but to train their people worthily as a nation. and herein lies the main difference between montenegrins and servians. the montenegrins during all these years have been learning to obey, while the servians have learnt to oppose all forms of government. the subjects of prince nikola are disciplined and self-respecting; of those of king peter it has been not inaptly remarked that where there are four soldiers there are five generals. we have seen the montenegrin in his towns, let us follow him into his mountains. kolashin (with a long "a") can be reached in one day of sixteen hours from podgoritza. it is better to make two easy ones of it and to enjoy the way. with a very dark youth, one boshko, and a chestnut pony, i left podgoritza at five one morning in june. up we went through the wild, rugged valley of the moracha, where the green water hurries between huge limestone crags, and on up, up, over loose stones, till by midday we were in an aching wilderness of hot limestone on the crest of the hill and were following the direction of the mala rjeka ("little river"), a tributary of the moracha, which flows in the valley below. one tree with an ink-black shadow cooled us for an hour. boshko then began to discuss our chances of shelter for the night. ljeva rjeka, the usual halting-place, was bad, he said; moreover, he knew no one there. his own home, on the other hand, was not far. it was not "very good," but "pretty good." would i sleep "kod nas"? (_chez nous_). i looked at boshko, reflected that "kod nas" would have interesting peculiarities, and decided to risk it. we started off again. i had three loaves of rye bread on my saddle, and milk, boiled and tasting strongly of wood smoke, can be got at every cottage, so that there was no fear of starvation. goat, sheep, and cow milk is the staple food of the mountain people. we fell in with several caravans, and in company with a long string of men and beasts went down a green and fertile valley till we came to a point where the telegraph posts which had hitherto accompanied us and bound us to the outer world went one way and boshko indicated another. "our house is yonder." "is it far, thy house?"--"one hour and a half." "and ljeva rjeka?"--"one hour." we left the caravan, the path, and the telegraph posts, forded die stream and struck into a trackless wilderness--that is to say, that only a native could have found the way. it was far too bad for the horse to carry me over. on we scrambled. after an hour of it, i asked, "how far?" "yet one hour and a half," said boshko cheerfully. it grew late and chilly; there was no sign that any human being had ever been this way before, and we were over 3000 feet up. we trudged on almost in silence for another hour. then again, "how far?" and again, "josh jedan sahat i po," said boshko thoughtfully, looking for landmarks in the waning light. i bore up as best i could. to the third "how far?" he replied, "it is now but a little way." we walked another hour, and then made a rapid descent over loose stones into a forlorn and darksome valley fenced in by cliffs, the pony floundering badly. a white church gave promise of habitations. "my village," said boshko, pointing to some scattered hovels, "brskut." he proposed calling on the priest, "the handsomest popa in montenegro." i, however, would not then have turned from my path to see the handsomest man in the world. "kod nas" proved to be almost the best house in the valley. we arrived at 7.30. i was so glad to see anything with a roof on that i did not even shudder at the sight of it. it was a shanty of loose stones. the family's room was reached by a wooden ladder, the cattle shed was below it. "mother" came out to greet us, and was at first struck speechless by the sight of me. she reminded boshko that they had no beds, to which he replied airily that it was of no consequence. i went up the ladder into pitch darkness. someone lit a pine splinter in the ashes of the fire and dragged up the only chair. this serves as a sort of throne for the head of the family. it is large with widespread arms, and has legs not more than three or four inches high, to suit the comfort of gentlemen used to sitting cross-legged on the ground. "mother" most kindly took my boots off and set a huge wooden bowl of fresh milk on my knees. people came out of dark corners, blew up the fire, slung the caldron over it, threw on logs, and as many flocked in to see me as the place would hold. it was a narrow slip of a room, about twelve feet by six, with the hearthstone at one end of it, and a barrel that served as larder. the smoke surged round the room. father, mother, brother, brothers-in-law, sisters, sisters-in-law, uncles, and friends all shook hands with me and bade me welcome. they were all bare-legged, and their clothes were dropping off them in rags. i was vaguely conscious of a mass of faces haloed in wood smoke; several huge warriors towered up to the roof; a very courteous and aged veteran, to whom the chair probably belonged, was smoking his chibouk by my side, then i nodded forward and should have been asleep in a minute, but they woke me by laughing. not only had they the excitement of seeing me, but we had brought the latest news of the death of the king of servia, and the conversation was lively as they supped. here as elsewhere, they said the deed was "strashno" (horrible), but that it was a good thing he was dead. but in most instances the extreme loyalty of the montenegrins for their own prince caused them to express disgust for the officers who betrayed their king while "still eating his bread." supper over, we went into the next room and went to bed. they gave me a large wooden bench against the wall. i put my cloak under me and my waterproof over me, and a man took off his strukka, folded it, and put it under my head. they swept the floor, spread sheets of thick felt, stripped the children and rolled them in pieces of blanket, took the cartridges out of their various weapons; i heard a murmured prayer, they lay down in rows on the floor, and the whole twelve of us were very soon asleep. i don't think i stirred till i was wakened by the family getting up, and found the owner of the strukka waiting to take it from under my head. i woke to a horrified consciousness that i had not wound up my watch. but it was still ticking, and said 3.30 a.m. i slept sweetly till six, then washed my hands and face in the stream in montenegrin style, and returned to have breakfast with boshko, who, in elegant _déshabille_, was loading his revolver on the doorstep. his mother had captured and washed his only shirt and was now drying it at the fire, so that the upper part of his person was in a very airy condition. we breakfasted amicably out of the same bowl, and "mother" boiled me a glassful of sugar and milk so sweet that i could hardly swallow it. but i had to, for it was meant for a great treat. boshko was so pleased with his home comforts that he proposed we should stay "kod nas" for several days, and i had some difficulty in tearing him away. it was half-past seven before he got into his shirt and saddled the pony. "mother" kissed me when i left, and refused at first to take any payment, as she said i was a friend of boshko. poor thing, she had done all she could for me, and had even given me the last of their precious sugar. when the money was really in her hand, her joy was great, and she thanked me over and over again. we started in pouring rain. "you had better not mount," said boshko cheerfully, and made straight for what looked like an inaccessible cliff. the path was the worst i have ever tried. we crawled up an awful zigzag. it was as much as he could do to urge the pony up it; twice it was near rolling over, for the streaming rain made the foothold precarious. then i slipped over the edge, and boshko was badly scared, but when i stuck on a bush and crawled up again, he proposed that we should add four hours to our journey by going to see a very beautiful lake which he vaguely said was "over there." i refused; we scrambled up about 1000 feet, and found ourselves safely on the top. we were soon over the pass and descending the other side into a magnificent wooded valley through dripping grass. the pony sat down and slid, and at the bottom we struck the proper track again. boshko took stock of the heavens, foretold speedy sunshine, and suggested taking shelter meanwhile at the nearest house. he was a casual young thing, with no idea of either time or distance, and loved exhibiting me. we were warmly welcomed in a big wooden chalet, and passed an hour with the most delightful people. the teacher, the captain (a beauty), the priest, and some dozen friends sat in a ring round the heap of logs that blazed in the centre. they made room, and insisted on boiling milk for me and roasting an egg in the wood ashes, because i had come so far to see them. "where is king peter?" was the topic of the day. his election was not generally expected in montenegro. most folk i met thought the serbs would proclaim a republic. i never could resist laughing at the idea of a servian republic, and was snapped at rather fiercely for doing so one day. "why do you laugh? it is not a joke." "i laugh because everyone in servia will wish to be president. that will be a joke." there was a solemn silence. then someone, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "there is no doubt she _has_ been in servia!" but nobody liked the remark. the montenegrin is hurt if things servian are criticised by an outsider. the servian, on the other hand, usually tries to glorify himself at the expense of his relations, and speaks of the montenegrins as a savage tribe. in this he errs fatally. a youth in an exceedingly bad temper came in, sat down and explained his wrongs--an affair of florins--at the top of a most powerful voice. the roof rang with his wrath. the company took it most stolidly, blew clouds of smoke, and let him finish. an elder then argued the matter through to him. all nodded approval. this annoyed him, and he fairly bellowed. someone pointed him out to me with a smile, drew one from me, and cried out at once, "the gospoditza is laughing at you!" which had the effect of stopping him suddenly. then the girl who was sitting next me gave me a little poke, and looking up, said with a pleasant smile, "he is my husband; he is always like that!" and she seemed as much amused as everyone else. nor did she display any emotion when he strode out still bubbling. the rest of the journey along the beautiful valley of the tara was easy and uneventful, and we reached kolashin early in the evening. kolashin is tiny, primitive, and most kindly. rich grass meadows surround it; wooded hills, thick with fir and beech, ring it round, and over them tower the rugged blue peaks of the mountains; a new switzerland waiting to be explored. timber is cheap, the houses are i wood-roofed with shingles which bleach to a warm silver-grey, and the upper storeys of such houses as possess them are mainly of wood. we pulled up at the door of a small drink-shop. boshko, in great form and very important, explained me volubly to all inquirers. we went upstairs into a big guest-room; montenegrin, inasmuch as it contained bedsteads and rifles and a long divan; western, for it had a table and several chairs; altogether sumptuous and luxurious as compared with "kod nas." to boshko it was a sort of cecil or savoy. mine host, ragged and excited, his wife, a dark lean woman with anxious eyes, a girl from next door who was always referred to as "the djevojka" (maiden), and ljubitza, the thirteen-year-old daughter and maid-of-all-work, flocked in with rakija and suggestions. the telegraphist and another man, who were regular boarders, came to help. then the djevojka came straight to the point. "which bed shall you sleep in?" she asked. i had been wondering this myself, for it is undoubtedly easier to be montenegrin by day than by night. the telegraphist, one of the goodliest of montenegro's many handsome sons, came to my rescue. "she is a stranger and does not know us," he said; "perhaps she will wish to sleep alone." to the surprise of the rest of the company, i rose at once to this suggestion. "you are just like the italian vice-consul at skodra," they cried. "he came here once for ten days' shooting, and he had a room alone all the time!" there was luckily a second apartment, and i was soon installed in great state, and all the company too. my letter of introduction to the serdar produced a profound impression. the simple-minded folk seeing that the envelope was open, thought it public property, and read it joyfully aloud. it was couched in complimentary terms. "what a beautiful letter!" they cried, and as the room was pretty full, i was thus favourably introduced wholesale. as for the jovial serdar, nothing could exceed his kindness. he and the doctor, much-travelled men, asked me as to my journey and where i had slept _en route._ "brskut" overpowered them, for they knew the sort of life to which i was accustomed. after brskut, it did not matter where i went. "lives in london and has slept at brskut 'kod nas'! you are a montenegrin now," cried the serdar, and he and the doctor roared with laughter. but another man, who knew only montenegro, could not see where the joke came in. kolashin, as i have said, is primitive, but that it should be civilised at all is greatly to its credit. thirty years ago this out-of-the-way corner was under turkish rule and as wild as is albania to-day, for the whole energy of the people was devoted to wresting the land back from the turk. three times did they take kolashin, three times were they forced to yield it again to superior numbers. the grim persistency of the men of the kolashin district succeeded, and since 1877 kolashin has become the fourth in importance of montenegrin towns. cut off from the world by the lack of a road, snowed up for nearly four months of the year, its resources are at present unworked and unworkable, but its magnificent forests and its fine pasture should spell money in the future. montenegro has been blamed for not opening up more speedily her newly acquired lands. it is possible that the delay is by no means an evil, for it has saved the people from being overwhelmed by a mass of western ideas for which their minds are as yet unready; ideas which, ill assimilated and misunderstood, and forced with a rush upon servia, have worked disastrously in that unhappy land. the men of kolashin are huge and extremely strong, and are good hewers of stone, road-makers, and builders, when shown how to set to work. with their splendid physique, they require a good deal of labour to work off their steam and keep them out of mischief. inter-tribal blood-feuds are not yet quite extinct, but the rule of the present serdar is fast putting a stop to them; the place is growing under his hands, and the people look up to him as to a father. the serdar took me to the "weapon show" of the district. the battalion, 500 strong, was drawn up in a meadow outside the town, three companies of stalwart fellows, each company with its barjak (colours), a white flag with a red cross. a row of hoary old war-dogs had come out to sun themselves and see what sort of a show the younger generation made; grand old boys--long, lean, sinewy, with white hair and bright deep-set eyes, their old war medals on the breasts of their ragged coats; some of them arrayed martially for the occasion with silver-mounted handjars, or flintlocks, thrust in their sashes. and about the serdar's popularity with young and old there was no mistake. he introduced me to the old soldiers. the montenegrins' pride in the veterans who have helped to redeem the land is very touching. "look at him," they say, pointing to an old, old man who is sitting almost helpless at his door. "he is a 'veliki junak' (great hero); he fought," etc. etc. to be thought "veliki junak" is every man's ambition. "junashtvo" (heroism) fills a large place in the mind of the montenegrin, who is brought up on tales of the cool daring and extraordinary pluck of his forebears. "be a brave boy, like milosh obilich," i heard a mother say to her little boy who was crying; nor can i easily forget the mighty youth, clean-limbed, clear-eyed, and the pink of courtesy, who told me with great earnestness that he wished to be "a hero like hayduk veljko!" every man is a soldier. the "weapon show" takes place ten times a year, either on a sunday or a saint's day. marching and formal drill are hateful to the mountaineers, but they love their guns like their children, and it is the pride and joy of every man that he is always ready to fight for his country. the serdar's five hundred were, so he told me, all splendid shots. as we were leaving, one of the veterans came forward and said that they thanked me for coming so far to see them, and thought i was "very brave." "very brave" is what the montenegrin likes best to be considered, so it was the poor old boys prettiest idea of a compliment. every thing at kolashin was kind to me but the weather. i was storm-bound for many days, and riding over the mountains was impossible. i resigned myself till the clouds chose to lift, and tried to see europe through the eyes of kolashin; and learnt much of the earth and the bareness thereof; and how little it requires to make life worth living, provided there are no turks about; and of people who live looking death in the face on bloody frontiers; and of simple, honest souls who have lived all their lives among these mountains, who burn with a patriotism that only death can destroy, men the guiding star of whose existence is the great servian idea, who would lay down their lives cheerfully any day to help its realisation. the nearer you come to the frontier, the more do you feel the ache of the old wound. "old servia" lies but a few miles away crying to be saved, and such is the force of environment that you find yourself one day filled with a desire to sit behind rocks and shoot turks for the redemption of that hapless land. my companions all regarded kolashin as a great centre of business and civilisation, for they had come from far wilder parts. my hostess was born at gusinje, the stronghold of one of the fiercest arnaout tribes. "it is a beautiful town," she says, "larger even than kolashin; but you cannot go there; they will shoot you." she and her friends spent a happy hour turning out the meagre contents of my saddle-bags, pricing all the articles, and trying some on. that none of my clothes were woven at home amazed them, "all made in a fabrik," they could scarce credit it. it seemed too good to be true. what with spinning, weaving, and making, they said they had hardly time to make a new garment before the old was worn out. more and more women came to see the show, and their naive remarks threw a strange light upon their lives. the family's hut was a windowless, chimneyless, wooden shanty, devoid of all furniture save a few lumps of wood and a bench, and the rafters were black and shiny with smoke. plenty of light came in, though there was no window, for no two planks met. a singers sewing-machine, which sat on the floor, looked a forlorn and hopeless anachronism, for all else belonged to the twelfth century at latest. certainly the huge and shapeless meals did--the lumps of flesh, the lamb seethed whole in a pot, and the flat brown loaves of rye bread. a montenegrin can go for a surprising time without food, can live on very little, but when food is plentiful his appetite is colossal. these worthy people used to serve me with enough food for a week. because i could not clear it all up, ljubitza used to run in at odd intervals with lumps of bread, bowls of milk, glasses of sliva, onions, and other delicacies, to tempt my appetite. my window gave on the balcony, so there was room for many people to look in, see me eat and urge me to further efforts. when they assembled also to see my toilet operations, about which the ladies were very curious, i had to nail up my waterproof by way of protection. whereupon a baffled female opened the window. the establishment possessed one tin basin, which i shared with the gentlemen in the next room. i captured it over night and handed it out to them in the morning on the balcony, where they took it in turns to squat while ljubitza poured water over their hands and heads and they scrubbed their faces. it is not the thing to wash in your room in montenegro, and my hostess thought me very peculiar upon this point. and in spite of the "lick-and-a-promise" system, folk always looked clean. on market day the inn was crammed. supper in the big room went on till ten o'clock. ljubitza hung around the door of my room and suggested that there were two beds in it, did i still prefer sleeping alone? i said very firmly that i did, whereupon her mother came and threw out sketchy suggestions of a similar nature. for in these parts no one ever thinks of undressing to go to bed, and it never occurs to anyone that you could wish to do so. the "guest-room" is made to contain as many as it will; mattresses are spread on the floor and coverlets supplied; nor did the regular boarders seem to have the least objection to sharing their room with ten or twelve strangers. but there are no "strangers" in montenegro. you ask a man all his private affairs to begin with, address him as "my brother," and call him by his christian name. nor in spite of the overcrowding are the rooms ever stuffy, for all the windows, and possibly the door too, are left open. not even the tiny cottages are close. at cetinje one day i met two excited frenchmen who had just been over the barracks, and their astonishment was so great that they imparted it to me. "figure to yourself," they said, "two hundred men slept in there last night and the air is as fresh as upon the mountain! but it is astonishing! parole d'honneur, if you but put your nose into one of our casernes, you are asphyxiated, positively asphyxiated!" and i, who am acquainted with the rich, gamey odour of the french "tommy," had no difficulty in believing it. life up at kolashin is mainly a struggle to get enough to eat and a roof overhead. in the lamb season meat is cheap and plentiful. corn comes chiefly from the lower plains, and there is often lack of bread; in the winter folk fare very hardly. even in fat times milk and maize-flour boiled in olive oil form the staple food of the peasantry. nature is quite unthwarted by science; only the very fit survive, and those have iron constitutions. a good deal has been written about the very inferior position of women in montenegro. some writers have even gone as far as saying that the montenegrins despise their wives, apologise for mentioning their existence, and do not allow them to appear in company at all. my own experience does not bear out these reports, which possibly originate in the fact that most books on the serb people have been written by men, and that centuries of experience of the turk and his methods have implanted a deep distrust of every foreign man in the heart of the wild montenegrin, both man and woman. men i had never seen before used to say to me, "good-night. sleep safely, i shall be near," and i regarded it only as a formula until one night it was varied by "good-night. lock your door to-night. there is an italian in the house!" but their belief in each other seemed to be great. the women were always telling me what wonderful men their husbands were, and the men were equally complimentary about their wives. they laid great stress on the part which the women had played in montenegro's struggle for freedom, saying that the montenegrins were fine soldiers because not only their fathers but their mothers were heroes. the conditions of life have been such that until twenty-five years ago defending his home and his flocks took up almost the man's whole time. all other work fell naturally to the women. the work is certainly very heavy, but so it was and is in every country where there is no labour-saving machinery. the women themselves do not appear to regard it as at all unfair. at any rate, they constantly advised me strongly to settle in the country and do as they did. it is very usual for many members of the same family to live together. the real thorn in the side of a montenegrin woman, then, is a sister-in-law who does not do her full share of the work. "is your sister-in-law good?" was a stock question. "very good." the fervour of the immediate reply, "thank god. how fortunate!" was most enlightening. kolashin was hospitable, and pressed me to stay indefinitely. boshko, gorged with lamb, was in great glory and in no hurry to go. but one day the clouds lifted, the mountain tops showed clear, and i issued marching orders. armed with two letters of introduction to voyvode lakich, the head man of andrijevitza, we started in the grey of the morning in the company of a ragged mohammedan albanian and a young mohammedan tradesman from podgoritza, a great swell, who boshko assured me was one of his dearest friends. he rode a showy white pony and gave himself airs. boshko admired him hugely, and referred to him always as the turchin. boshko had a great faculty for hero worship, and recommended several of the objects of his admiration to me as likely to make suitable husbands. all being ready for a start, the inevitable rakija appeared, and i had to drink stirrup-cups with the friends i was leaving. i thought two sufficient. "you must take the third," said one of the regular boarders, "for the holy trinity." "she does not know about the trinity," said someone hastily in an undertone; "they do not have the trinity in her land." the surprise and delight of the company on learning that we did was great. we all swallowed a third glass with enthusiasm, and i said adieu. alat, my chestnut, was very cheerful after his long rest, but the steep path soon tamed him. we went up a thousand rugged feet quickly, alat hurrying after the turchin, who sang, shouted, and rode recklessly. boshko panted behind. we drew rein at the top of the ridge and awaited him. the ragged man kept up with never a sob. below, around, above, lay wild and wooded mountains and bare peaks. "which way?" said the turchin. "knowest thou, o boshko?" "not i, so god slay me!" was his cheerful answer; "i thought that thou knewest!" "by the one god, not i." "this way or that, as there is a god above me, i know not." and so on and so on. the turchin, a reckless, feckless young thing, burst out laughing, dug a spur into his pony and swung him round, whipped out his revolver, fired it over my head out of pure light-headedness, and saying, "we will go this way; god grant it does not lead to the frontier," plunged into a wood on the left. "god grant it doesn't," said boshko fervently, for he had a mighty respect for frontiers. the track was mud and loose rock. we dismounted and filed through the wood, winding higher and higher up the mountain side. from time to time all three men halloed to herdsmen above and below us, to learn if we were on the right track. some said we were and some that we were not. the turchin said it was less trouble to go on than to go back, but that we should probably arrive at berani of the turks, and then "god help us," which terrified boshko. the ragged man observed the peaks carefully and said he thought he knew. then down came a driving, drenching mist and hid everything. the turchin shivered and got into a greatcoat. i struggled, streaming, over slippery stones, and the loose ones bounded down the mountain side. at last we came to a wide level where the track branched, the fog lifted, and the ragged man was certain of the way. the rain was bitterly chill, snow lay in patches on the ground, and the aneroid registered 5200 feet. above us rose the bare peak of bach. we were on good turf, could mount again, and alat was as tame as a snail. the ragged man steered us cleverly across country, and the sun came out. we put up at a bunch of incredibly wretched huts, mere lean-to's of planks, so low that one could only stand upright in the middle. the people, who were in rags that barely held together, brought us milk in a wooden bowl, out of which we all three ate with wooden ladles. for the turchin, being albanian, had no scruples about feeding with unbelievers. a very aged woman, ninety years old, crouched by the fire, which was stirred up to dry my wet clothes. when i wished to pay on leaving, the master of the house flared up. he was a magnificent-looking fellow, who bore himself right kingly in spite of his rags. "i am a soldier," he said; "nothing is sold in my house." i had to leave with thanks and handshakes, for they would take nothing at all, and i felt ashamed of having eaten their food, they were so poor. we tracked down to andrijevitza, which we reached about four in the afternoon. the scenery when the mist rose was grand. great snow peaks above and flowery grassy slopes below, with all the wild charm of an undiscovered country upon them. andrijevitza is a tiny, tiny place (2200 feet above the sea), nestled in a valley on the banks of the lim, which hurries down from the lands of plava and gusinje, and is here joined by a little tributary. i put up at the bakers shop, a funny little house built on a slope. it accommodated a cow in the basement and fowls in the roof. these began to scrattle and peck about four in the morning, you woke with the feeling that they were raking for corn in your head, and the baker's wife, who kindly let me share her bedroom and saved me from the general guest-room, used to hammer on the ceiling with my umbrella by way of quieting them. life at andrijevitza is somewhat rough, but i fared exceedingly well; for the kindness, courtesy, and hospitality of everyone more than made up for the barbaric simplicity of all domestic arrangements. nor did it ever occur to anyone that i was not living in the lap of luxury, for i had every comfort that money can buy--in andrijevitza. compared with andrijevitza, kolashin is large and wealthy. andrijevitza is poor, proud, honest and self-respecting--and it has a right to be proud, for it is the very last outpost of civilisation in that direction. the border and the turk are but four miles away, the men of andrijevitza are fighting frontiersmen, and their head is that "veliki junak," voyvode lakich. voyvode lakich--the eagle-eyed, grey-headed warrior, the beloved of his people, a terror to the turks--is a type of all that is fine in old montenegro. one of a long line of fighting men, his honest eyes, his hearty laugh, and the simple dignity of his bearing command entire trust at first sight, and the respect with which he is regarded tell that he is a born leader of men, a duke (dux) in the old sense of the word. his courtly old wife called on me at once with her daughter-in-law, and proceeded to welcome me in the orthodox style with glasses of rakija. poor old lady, she was really no more addicted to raw spirits than i am, and gasped between each glass; but in spite of my efforts the proper forms had to be observed, and we duly swallowed the three glasses required by christianity and the laws of hospitality. she marvelled greatly over my journey, for she herself had never left the neighbourhood. her nephew, she said, was a great traveller; "he had been to nikshitje, podgoritza, and cetinje." she was the great lady of the land and much respected, but has lived a life of toil and poverty and danger compared with which the life of our own "working classes" is one of pampered luxury. i do not think that there is anyone in montenegro whose soul is imperilled by great possessions. when i had once left podgoritza, and the world, behind me, my two small saddle-bags were regarded as an inordinate amount of luggage. "you have quite enough clothes on. what can you need these for? leave them here, and call for them on the way back." no one travels with more than can be tied up in a pocket-handkerchief, and what that minimum consists of i have never rightly fathomed. life at andrijevitza is earnest; it is either quiet to dulness, or it is filled with very grim realities. for the albanians across the border are an ever-present danger. the powers of europe, represented by many worthy gentlemen, met at berlin in 1878, and together they swept and raked the turkish empire and bedded it out into states. now, it is no light task to plant out nationalities about which you know little, in a land about which you possibly know less. nor was the welfare of the said nationalities quite the only thing that absorbed the council's attention. it is therefore not very surprising that the nationalities most concerned were not best pleased with the results. the nearest brothers of montenegro are in old servia, but the uniting of the serb peoples did not fall in with austria's aspirations. montenegro cried for bread and her brothers; she was given, largely, stones and albanians. gusinje and plava were included in montenegrin boundaries, and trouble began at once. order was only restored by substituting dulcigno for this robbers' nest. gusinje and plava were left to the albanians, but the corrected frontier was not delimited for some time, was the source of much fighting, and to this day is not strictly observed. as someone picturesquely observed, "it floats"--mainly on blood. and the representations made on the subject to constantinople by the montenegrins have not been more successful than any other representations made in that quarter unbacked by ironclads. at andrijevitza not only the crimea but the treaty of berlin are writ up very large against us. and the apathy of england towards the suffering of the balkan christians is a bitter thing to all the serb peoples. down on a frontier with the enemy almost in sight, the feeling becomes intense. "your people have been our enemies," said someone, "and you know it, but you have come alone all the way here among us. when you go home, you must tell the truth about us. it is all we ask of you." for that england can be really aware of what life under the turk has meant for the balkan people, none who have lived that life,' can credit. the peasants and flocks had not yet gone to the upper pastures for the summer, and until they are there, travelling on the border heights is dangerous for solitary wanderers, owing to constant albanian incursions. the murder of a montenegrin herd-boy last year gave rise to a good deal of fighting, and at mokra, on the very edge, things were still "not good." owing to the farce of austro-russian reform, and other reasons, gusinje was apparently just then in a supersensitive frame of mind. i gave up gusinje reluctantly, and planned to see berani on a market day. the valiant boshko was reluctant. "we must go without a revolver," he said, "and i do not know the road." "we go freely to market," said i. "o boshko, thou art afraid." "i am not afraid," said boshko indignantly, "but i dare not." so i consented to his engaging a second man, and relieved his mind. when the moment for departure came, he divested himself mournfully of his beloved six-shooter, hung it on a nail next my spare skirt, and looked ridiculously nude and ashamed. we rode with a long string of pack-beasts on a good track down the valley of the lim. before we had been going an hour, grey clouds swept down upon us and rain began; but everyone vowed it would be fine, and i foolishly pushed on. a guard of dirty nizams cowered at the entrance of a loopholed shanty, and a turkish "kula" (blockhouse) was perched on the hill on either side of the valley. the telegraph wire, which had hitherto run trim and straight between upright and regular poles, now drooped in limp festoons from one crooked "clothes-prop" to another. we were in turkey. no place looks really jolly in the rain, but in many lands rain means new life, hope, and plenty. in turkey it is grey desolation; the untilled land, the wretched christian peasantry, the squalid huts, sodden and soaked, seem all rotting together in a land whereon the sun will never shine again. we splashed on. no one took any notice of us, for we were going to market. the turkish blockhouses, "half an hour apart" along the frontier, were left behind us. we slopped past a yellow guard-house and more gaunt nizams and rode into berani, a small town of, for the most part, crooked houses of timber and mud, a wide main street, a large market-place, two wooden mosques, and a fortress. the inn, kept by a serb, was far better than the look of the place led one to expect. the man was from ipek and his wife from novibazar, and they welcomed me warmly, a visit from a foreign christian was an unusual event, and the question was what course it would be most diplomatic to pursue with regard to the authorities. i was begged not to seek them, but to leave them to hunt me, if they thought fit. a czech who had come about a fortnight ago had gone straight to the kaimmakam, had been promptly ordered back across the frontier, and a guard had been set to watch the inn and see that he did not leave it except to return whence he came. mine host hoped i would not bring the police upon him. "but i have a letter and a passport," i said; for, with the blood of the dominant race in me, the idea of sneaking in corners from the ottoman eye was most unpleasing. to the christian subjects of the ottoman it seemed the only natural and sensible way of acting. "what is a letter or a passport?" they cried; "here you are with the turks." there was a marked unwillingness on the part of everyone to take me to the kaimmakam, and the czechs plan had failed, so i decided, by way of experiment, to see berani before i was hunted out of it. meanwhile they pointed out the great man to me through the wooden grating that covered the window. he went into his official residence, and it was suggested that we should now go out. it was interesting to see how entirely suitable this furtive way of setting about things was considered. the rain had ceased, and the market was crowded with montenegrins and the serb peasants of the neighbourhood. in this part of the country the peasantry is all serb and christian. the mohammedans are the army of occupation that holds the land, the nizams, zaptiehs (police), and officials, and a certain amount of tradesfolk in the town. these latter are in many cases the descendants of mohammedanised serbs, as is also the kaimmakam himself. the most remarkable fact about berani is that the montenegrin national cap is on sale in the main street. that this is permitted is astonishing, for it does not take one long to see that the christian population is heart and soul with the prince. in the course of the last war berani was taken several times and was held by the montenegrins. the people's hopes ran high. "but," they say, "it lies in good land, so the council of berlin gave it back to the turks. see the fine meadows and the fields that should be ours! and but little grows in them, for they gave it back to those devils." down came the rain like a fusillade, and i spent a cold, damp afternoon in the public room of the inn. a man who said he was german was waiting to interview me. he was a watchmaker by trade. he started at once on the death of king alexander. which of the powers did i think had brought this about? did i think it would affect the future of old servia? he was so anxious to know my opinion on the subject that i had none. "servia" was the only word that the serbs at the next table could understand, and it made them nervous. they ordered drinks and got me into their circle as soon as possible, asking, "what have you told him? he is a dirty german. he will denounce you to the authorities." they were a frank, hospitable, kindly set, of whom i afterwards saw much. i did my best to convince them that the manner of alexander's death was worse than a crime--for it was a blunder; but though we remained very good friends, i never succeeded. i went to berani on purpose to see giurgovi "stupovi, the monastery church of st. george; for in turkey you should always have a harmless and suitable reason for travelling, and i watched the rain dismally. it looked like the deluge, and forty days of it would have settled the eastern question as far as the turk is concerned. monastery hunting was out of the question. i went upstairs, sat cross-legged on a divan to warm myself, and nursed the cat for the same purpose. my hostess did her best to entertain me and called in any number of her friends, and i began to make the acquaintance of the women of old servia, of whom i was to learn more later. these women came to see me whenever they had the chance; i was a stranger and quite a new sight, and no matter what i was doing or how tired i might be, they questioned me with pitiless persistency. such interviews on the top of a long day's ride are wearisome to the last degree, but in travelling in these lands there is only one road to success, and that is, never to lose patience with the people under any circumstances. they were extremely ignorant; england conveyed no idea to them. beyond their own immediate surroundings they knew nothing at all, and their mental horizon was bounded by turks. i asked no questions, and let the information dribble out unaided. omitting a mass of childish and personal questions, the conversation was always more or less on this pattern:-"hast thou a father?" "no." "did the turks kill him?" "no." this caused surprise. "hast thou brothers?" "yes." "glory be to god! how many turks have they killed?" for my male relatives were always credited with a martial ardour which they are far from possessing. the news that they had killed none caused disappointment. then-"is thy vilayet (province) far off?" "very far." "five days?" "more." "god help thee! are there many turks in thy vilayet?" "none." "no turks? dear god, it is a marvel!" and so on and so on. attempts to start a new topic brought back the old one. "what a pretty child!" elicited only "he has no father. the turks killed him." and all these things are trivial details; but "little straws show which way the wind blows," and their dull "everydayness" is more eloquent of helpless suffering than are columns of disputed atrocities. and through it all these people cling with a doglike fidelity to their church and the belief that the god of their fathers will one day give them back the land which should be theirs. i remember few grimmer things than these wretched women and their turk-haunted lives. tired out, damp and chilled right through, i shrank from facing the ceaseless downpour, and to the great relief of my two men, stayed the night at berani. the trouser-legged landlady made me a very respectable bed in a room with a lock on the door. supper--which was always on the point of coming, but did not arrive till ten o'clock--consisted of a great chunk of flesh in a large tin dish full of funny stuff. the lady tore the shoulder-blade off with her fingers and offered it me to begin on. it was a failure as a meal. i dismissed the whole company, to their infinite regret, locked the door, ate all my "siege ration" of chocolate, went to bed, and slept like a log. in the middle of the night a violent attempt to open the door woke me. i was too tired to worry at first. then i cried, "what is it?" no answer and stillness. it was pitch dark, and there were no matches. in a little while the attempt began again. then i recognised that the sound was inside the room, and grasped the situation. the cat i had been nursing was shut up inside the room, and her two kittens were squealing outside. she was making wild efforts to get to them. i let her out, and saw by a flickering lamp that the rain was streaming through the roof and the whole landing was a lake. next morning my landlady said the cats had frightened her very much in the night. midnight noises were more alarming to her than to me, and probably for very good reason. it was still drizzling when i left berani early for the monastery, which is but a little way outside the town. the church is celebrated as being the oldest in the balkan peninsula. it was built by stefan nemanja, the first of that line of nemanja kings who led servia to glory. he ruled from the middle of the twelfth century, abdicated a few years before his death (which took place in 1195?), and retired to mount athos. he was canonised, and as st. simeone is still greatly revered. the old monastery was burnt by the turks, but the church, wrecked of all decoration and robbed of its treasure, still stands. it is a long, barrel-vaulted building, with an apse at one end and a narthex at the other. the masonry is rough, coarse, and irregular. a roman gravestone is built into the wall upside down near the side door. inside no trace of wall painting remains, but one piece of an inscription in which stefan's name appears. all is forlorn and melancholy. a large assembly of folk were there to welcome me, and we had to retire to the monastery and partake of rakija. the most interesting figures were the head of the monastery and a wild-eyed priest, whose long grey locks were twisted up under his cap. he wore striped albanian leg-gear and had a revolver thrust in his sash, though christians are forbidden to carry weapons in turkey. he rode off on a pony, and had presumably leaked in over the frontier and evaded the authorities; but i thought it would be useless to ask questions on such a delicate subject. we returned to andrijevitza by another road, thus avoiding berani and the guard at its entrance, which seemed to me a very unnecessary precaution, but pleased my guides extremely. at andrijevitza i found the czech of whom i had heard at berani, a professor of botany who was making a detailed study of the flora of montenegro, a good-natured, jolly man, who was a good friend to me, and to whom i am indebted for several interesting pieces of information. commenting on the number of vipers which are to be met with on the hillsides, he told me that the people all still believe in the existence of serpents of enormous size, fabulous dragons in fact. a man once told him that he had seen one, 20 metres long, and swore "by god, i saw it with these eyes." nothing would convince him that his eyes had deceived him, and his comrades firmly believed the tale. they have many medicinal herbs, the secret of which they jealously guard. one plant in particular they consider an infallible cure for snake-bite, but he never succeeded in inducing them to show it him. it would lose its power, they said, if they told. cats all know it, and go off and eat it if bitten. the montenegrin flora, which includes many plants peculiar to the district, had never been completely worked before, and beyond the frontier was quite unknown to science. he was wild to plant-hunt there, but his encounter with the kaimmakam had been so unpleasant that he had reluctantly given up all hopes of doing so for the present. the kaimmakam, he said, and the voyvode were friendly enough a short time back, but the political situation was just then strained, and i had been lucky to escape an interview. everyone wanted to know how i had fared, and i was asked round to the voyvode's house. the baker's lady took me. we went up an outside staircase into a tiny room with a hearthstone and an iron pot in it, and from this into another room, where the voyvode's lady welcomed me cordially. her daughter-in-law and her son came in, followed by the voyvode and his secretary, the kapetan. it was a tiny whitewashed room with a bare wooden floor, a table, three wooden chairs, and a bench--quite devoid of all the comforts of an english labourer's cottage; and portraits of prince nikola and the russian and italian royal families were the only exceptions to its spartan simplicity. hospitality was the order of the day. rakija was produced, a plate of cheese and another of little lumps of ham, and a fork. all clinked glasses, took it in turns to eat little bits of ham off the fork, and were very festive. i have seldom met more charming people. the voyvode was loud in his contempt for boshko, and vexed that i should have had to pay a second man. this sealed boshko's fate. he was, though well-meaning, quite incompetent as a guide. i paid him off and dismissed him. alat had to go too, and the saddle, as boshko dared not return without them. events followed thick and fast. sunday was kosovo day, and monday market day. a crowd of strange beings flocked in from gusinje, wild mountain albanians, with heads swathed in white cloths and restless, watchful eyes. but the bringing of weapons to market has been lately forbidden, and they had nothing more lethal upon them than well-filled cartridge belts, with which even the little boys were equipped. our interest in one another was mutual, and i spent most of the morning in the market and down by the river, where they were selling and slaughtering sheep and goats, and the purple puddles were so suitable to the scene that they ceased to be revolting. gusinje, being forbidden, fascinated me exceedingly, and i was charmed to find a gusinje man had put up for the night at my hostelry. djoka was his name; he was as stripey as a tiger; his sun-tanned face was baked and weathered into lines, and his dark brown eyes glittered and sparkled. "art thou christian or mohammedan?" he was asked when his "visitors' form" was being filled in. he looked up lazily from the bench where he was a-sprawl, and "by god, i know not," was all the reply he vouchsafed. we entertained one another for most of the afternoon. he had never seen drawing done before, and his interest was intense. he asked to be drawn so that people could see his new cartridge belt, and posed with a view to showing as much of it as possible. "but i must have a gun," he said. the idea of lending a gusinje man a rifle even for the purposes of fine art was scouted by the montenegrins, and we had to do without. he sat motionless and unblinking for twenty minutes; then unluckily the onlookers told him it was quite finished. he jumped up, and so many came to see that further sitting was impossible. the botanik and i consulted him about going to gusinje. he was in high good humour, for his portrait pleased him greatly. "we only want to see," said the botanik. "i pick flowers and make them into hay, and the lady will draw you pictures. we will make no politik." "thou art a man, and they will not believe thee," said djoka firmly; "and for thee, lady, it is better not. perhaps there is danger, perhaps there is not. in gusinje there is no law. next year thou shalt come, and thou also." "why will it be possible next year and not now?" i asked; but djoka merely stared straight in front of him with a blank face and repeated what he had said before. and his final good-bye to me was an oracular "next year, o lady." meanwhile, outside in the street people were busy putting up flags, for it was the eve of prince danilo's birthday. night fell--it grows dark early in these valleys--and one marko rushed in to say the voyvode wanted me at once. we flew to the market-place, where flared a huge bonfire ringed round by all the men of the neighbourhood, squatting or standing in an expectant circle. on one side sat the voyvode, with the priest on his right hand and all his officers round him. there was a table in front of him with five glasses and a huge flagon of rakija. place was made for the botanik and for me on the voyvode's left. he turned to me. "my falcons!" he said in a voice of love and pride, as he glanced round his men. there was a blue-black night sky overhead with never a star in it. the petroleum-fed bonfire leapt into a waving banner of flame and threw hot light on the faces of veterans, stern frontiersmen, and eager boys, illuminating weapons, blue and crimson uniforms, medals and gold stitchery in one brave blaze. the kapetan, who was sitting next us, whipped out his revolver, fired it overhead, and the fun began. anyone who felt inspired burst into song, and anyone that chose joined in. the village rang with national ballads shouted at the full pitch of huge voices, with the wildest enthusiasm, and a running fire of revolver shots marked time barbarically--ball cartridge, of course. anyone who, carried away by his feelings, fired all six barrels in succession, was loudly applauded. the glasses were filled, and the rakija flowed with embarrassing profusion. the montenegrins are very moderate drinkers, but it was etiquette for every man of rank to drink with the guests. the five glasses flew from hand to hand, and the botanik and i were hard put to it as one captain after another filled a glass to us; for to refuse is an insult. "drink," said the botanik desperately, "drink. what must be, must." from time to time the fire was fed, and, as it blazed again, one youth with a wild yell would challenge another to dance. leaping up into the air like young stags, they dashed into the middle of the ring, dancing madly a kind of highland fling, with the flaming bonfire as background, yelling savagely the while they drew their revolvers, leapt higher and higher, and on the top of the leap fired over the heads of the shouting crowd, who in their turn beat time with a volley of bullets; while against the darkness of the night, fire flashed from the muzzles of upturned weapons all round the ring. "take care, brothers! take care!" cried the voyvode at intervals, when the angle of fire was dangerously low. and as each pair of youths finished their dance they threw their arms round each others necks and kissed one another heartily on both cheeks before making room for another couple. when both cartridges and rakija were about exhausted, the voyvode stood up. "enough, brothers! enough!" and he started the national hymn, "god save montenegro," which was sung with a wild fervour about which there was no mistake. glasses were filled for the final toast, and we drank to the gospodar and all his family, and to the speedy restoration of the ruler of great servia to his rightful throne at prisren. "now, my falcons, go!" said the voyvode. the party abruptly dispersed, and the bonfire died away. but the wave of patriotism had surged too high to subside at once. the musical talent of the neighbourhood flocked to the guest-room at the baker's, the gusle passed from hand to hand, and each man in turn vied with his comrades in long historic ballads. those who meant to go home brought their rifles with them, "for it is dark"; those who meant to stay hung up their revolvers and took their belts off. how those fellows sang!--sang till the sweat glistened upon their brows, their faces flushed, and the veins stood out upon their throats. nor did there seem to be any end to the number of verses each man knew. the gusle has but one string, and as a musical instrument it is about as poor a one as has ever been devised; it was monotonously on one or two minor notes varied only by a curious trill that recurs perpetually, but to the montenegrin it is what the bagpipes are to the highlander. it calls up all that is montenegrin within him. they sang of kosovo and of the servo-bulgarian war and of the border fights of the neighbourhood. the song ended often in a yell of triumph, and the singer threw himself back exhausted by the emotions he had lived through. djoka, the man from gusinje, took his turn and varied the subject of song by singing the sorrows of a turkish woman whose husband the montenegrins had killed. he sang in a clear high voice, and manipulated the gusle more skilfully than any other man i have heard. "dost thou hear the wailing of the cuckoo till the city echoes to her woe? the snow is falling and the earth is frost-bound. that that thou hearest is no cuckoo; it is the voice of a woman that cries for her murdered man," etc., and the montenegrins retorted with a similar song in which the conditions were reversed. when everyone had sung himself hoarse we suddenly discovered it was one o'clock in the morning. the boy began hastily strewing mattresses, and i retired into the back bedroom with the baker's wife, to find there the tired-out botanik, who was sleeping the sleep of exhaustion and had to be aroused. next morning at nine o'clock there was a solemn service in the little church. the "heads," in gala costume, marched in front and the rest of the village trailed after. i could not follow the prayers accurately, but the name of prisren recurred many times, and the church was filled with kneeling warriors who prayed with painful intensity for the redemption of stara srbija. for the saving of old servia and the union of the serb peoples is the star by which the serb steers, the goal of his desires, the ideal for which he lives and is ready to die. we walked out serious and very silent into the sunshine, and the emotional strain was visible on many faces. the voyvode introduced me to an officer who had arrived that morning and explained my tour to him briefly. "we want you to see old servia," said the voyvode. i was formed up in line with the "heads," and we marched back to the village, and on the way they talked of stara srbija and of stara srbija. "it was the heart of our empire, and you must see it," said the officer. this was a new idea to me and soared beyond my wildest plans. that hapless corner of the turkish empire was left after the last war to be ravaged by the albanians. until the russians insisted upon forcing a consul into mitrovitza, none of the powers knew or cared what was passing in that dark corner, and travellers were denied access. my map ceased at the montenegrin frontier, and beyond was a blank. i pondered the question till we arrived at the village. the market-place was arranged as on the night before; we took our seats and repeated last nights entertainment, minus the bonfire and revolvers, for the voyvode said that more firing would make the albanians think that fighting was taking place and bring them over the border in force. patriotism was hotter than ever, and "the falcons" sang "onamo, onamo," "yonder, yonder let me see prisren," with great energy. we drank all the proper healths, we sang the national hymn, and the party broke up. this time, however, the "heads" adjourned to the voyvode's and took the botanik and me with them. the little room was quite full of men in festal garb covered with gold and medals; we ate hot mutton and little bits of ham with our fingers, and drank rakija. the voyvode proposed my health, said i was like the swallow that flew south, and that, like the swallow, i must come again next year. and they all drank to me but not to england, though i noticed that they drank to bohemia as well as to the botanik with much warmth. then they turned their attention to urging me to stara srbija. i consulted the botanik. "go," he said; "the only danger is from albanians, and they never touch a woman." i looked at all the "heads," and trusted them. the voyvode said he would give me a letter that would take me over, and the kapetan that he would find me a man and a horse. the "heart of our empire and the throne of our kings" began to exercise an irresistible fascination over me. i said i would start that very afternoon, and did. i was to ride to berani, thence to pech (ipek), thence to dechani; from dechani to prisren and back to andrijevitza across country--or rather, i was to try to do so, but the whole expedition was pleasingly vague, as it depended entirely upon "circumstances," that were all turks, and therefore uncontrollable. everyone was full of enthusiasm, and told me above all things to go to dechani, the most holy shrine in stara srbija. my belongings were then overhauled, for it was necessary to ride as light as possible. i tipped all my things on to the bed. quite a number of people came to help. my idea was chocolate and underclothing. the montenegrins thought otherwise. one stalwart fellow took my second skirt off the wall. "this," he said, "is very pretty and not heavy. take it. then if you meet any foreign consuls you can walk about with them." this bright idea pleased everyone, for your montenegrin dearly loves "to peacock." they selected a scarlet silk necktie to complete the conquest of the consuls, and considered that this was all the outfit that was absolutely necessary. the kapetan arrived with the letter, the pony, and the guide. "i give you this lady to take care of," he said; "you will protect her and serve her well, or when you come back you will go to prison." i laughed. "i am not joking," he said sternly. i mounted with my gay light-heartedness rather dashed, waved "good-bye" and started. the pony was a wiry one, the wooden pack-saddle padded with a cape quite comfortable, except that loops of cord were its only stirrups, and the clean, honest eyes of radovan, the man to whom i had been handed over, filled me with trust from the first. the road to berani was now lonely. near the border a man on horseback suddenly clattered across the valley. "woman," he shouted, "stop!" "go on, and do not speak," said radovan; "he is a turk, and a bad one. if he wishes to ask something he knows that he should ask me." the turk drew alongside. "woman, answer me. what is the time?" radovan looked at the sky and gave the approximate hour. the turk took no notice but shouted at me again. after this he said a good deal in a language i did not understand, and rode away. radovan laughed. "i know that man," he said; "he wanted to see if you had a good watch." we reached berani, and this time, as there was no market to explain our errand, were challenged at once and told to wait at the inn. the inn was amazingly excited at hearing my proposed route, and foretold failure. no foreigner had been passed through for many years. i awaited a summons before the kaimmakam with anxiety. "there he is!" they cried, and i was suddenly shouted for to be interviewed in the middle of the main street. he was a long, lean, morose individual, who snapped, "what do you want?" in serb, and was taken aback at my errand and nationality. he was doubtful, very doubtful. inspired by previous experience of turkish ignorance, i tried a bold bluff that was not "bakshish," and rather to my own surprise i scored a sullen permission. having successfully played the empire, i gave him the voyvode's letter. "voyvode lakich," he said, "h'm, voyvode lakich, voyvode lakich." he tore it open, read it, smiled grimly, indicated that he had had quite enough of me for the present, and turned away with my passport and the letter, muttering "voyvode lakich" as he went. the inn and its customers were exultant. "you will be quite safe," said a woman; "the turks will not dare touch you. they are afraid of your friends across the frontier, and know you would be nobly avenged." she believed this piece of nonsense, poor thing, and her chance remark threw a swift sidelight on a dark life where "safety" depends on power of revenge. my host, hostess, radovan, and i passed the evening together round a pan of food. they were in high good-humour, for i was expected somehow to champion the christian cause! if england only knew she could not fail to act! "the turks," said my host, "killed my father before my eyes when i was fifteen"--his wife, with a cry of alarm, shut the window lest he should be overheard. i had planned to start early next morning, but had no such luck. my passport had not been stamped. this was explained by the fact that the gentleman to whose department it belonged had lost a daughter. he intended to weep all day, and could not be interrupted. i protested, and was told that two or three days could make no difference to anyone, and was kept in a pleasing state of uncertainty as to what was to happen. late in the evening i received orders to start next morning at four with some traders and a zaptieh as escort. radovan disguised himself as a turkish subject, and we started punctually in the grey dawn. it was very cold, and the entire landscape was blotted out by driving rain. we crossed the lim by a wooden bridge full of holes, which a portion of the turkish army had been trying to mend by stuffing sticks into them. half blinded by the rain, we breasted the hill and waited on the top for the "drushtvo" (company) and the zaptieh, who soon appeared like ghosts out of the fog. the track was pretty bad, the landscape quite invisible, and we rode through a wilderness in a ceaseless downpour. the way was enlivened only by murder stones, which were pretty frequent. "that's the bohemian," said the zaptieh. "who shot him?" said someone. "god knows," said the zaptieh stolidly, "how should i?" we slopped on. "those were traders," said the zaptieh presently (there were two stones this time). "were they robbed?" asked one of the drushtvo, a trader himself. "by god, i know not. there was nothing on them when they were found." and so on and so on. at eleven the weather cleared quite suddenly; the clouds rolled away and disclosed scenery that was startlingly magnificent. we had been mounting all the time and were on vast uplands. the huge peak of kom of the vassoievich towered from montenegro and a border blockhouse showed clear on a ridge. "that's mokra," said the zaptieh, and he laughed and tapped his rifle--an unnecessary pantomime, for the land told its own tale. it is "a land that is not inhabited." there are miles and miles of the richest pasture, where no flocks feed,--they would cost the herdsman's life,--rich valleys where no man dwells, and great lonely forests of stately fir trees. we were in arnaoutluk (albania), a land where nothing is done and where under turkish government nothing can be done. a few most wretched shanties--albanian, of course--were the only human habitations i saw. the albanian hordes who till lately had held the district and completely blocked the trade route had been for the time being driven back, and now the road was once again practicable. radovan spoke albanian fluently, as did also the zaptieh. we got some smoky milk and some coffee at an albanian hut (which stank frightfully, for the walls were covered with raw ox-hides nailed up to dry), and sat on the floor and drank out of the same bowl while a party of weird wild men sprawled round and asked questions. they kindly threw logs on the fire that i might dry my clothes, and only charged fivepence for our refreshments. then on, and we passed through rugove, a small albanian village consisting of a handful of cottages and a wooden mosque, a sinister spot, the scene of the recent arrest of some revolutionary chieftains and a good deal of bloodshed, and plunged into the valley of the bistritza, thickly forested with fir trees. the steep hillside was a tangle of roots or streaming with liquid mud, through which i slithered on foot for some miles, and the pack-animals staggered along with difficulty, pecking and stumbling. we got ahead of the drushtvo, but as the light was beginning to wane the zaptieh called a halt, and we waited for them. i had been told ten or twelve hours would take us to ipek, and my heart sank. when we joined forces everyone was dead tired. poor radovan was so done that i begged him to ride my pony, but he refused, and the track was soon such that i too had to walk. it was an extraordinarily wild and impressive scene. the cliffs on the opposite side rose in a perpendicular wall, there was a night sky overhead, and the moon came out and glittered on the torrent that spouted and roared below. it was pitch dark under the trees, and numberless tiny fireflies flashed and disappeared. we staggered and scrambled over the rocky path, which was too narrow in many places to let one animal pass another. i walked ahead with the zaptieh, who uttered loud yells to warn any other caravan of our approach. we heard yells ahead, and the narrow valley echoed with unearthly howls. we met, and as we were all cross and tired, we backed, scrambled, and shouted, in a tangle as each party tried to make the other give way. i divided the last lump of dry bread with the zaptieh and radovan as we tramped out from under the trees, and the valley was wide and bare. on the steep cliff was an inscription in turkish with a great blot of crimson under it--only paint, but it showed mysterious in the moonlight and struck awe into all beholders except myself. as no one could read it they called a halt, began to discuss its probable meaning, and were in no hurry to start again. i walked on and the zaptieh followed, and we came to the end of the gorge. "pech very soon," said the zaptieh; "ride, lady, ride, the way is good." i mounted reluctantly, for it was not, and very nearly came to grief in consequence. at last, after sixteen and a half hours on the march, we clattered over a stony breakwater by the river's edge to the big iron-faced gates of the monastery, which is surrounded by a high stone wall. the zaptieh banged the heavy knocker, the gates were opened cautiously, i slid from my weary beast, and we entered. here were some long white buildings, a fountain, and a group of men sitting on the ground. the iguman came forward to welcome me. he proved later to be a friend indeed, but now he and the others were too much overcome by astonishment and curiosity to think of anything else but satisfying it. they gave me a chair, a rickety hard thing, and i sat stiff and tired in the chill moonlight and enumerated my brothers, sisters, and other relatives in answer to a flood of questions. one man who was gnawing a piece of meat kindly offered me a clammy lump by way of refreshment. radovan asked if we could have some hay for the horse, and was told there was none at all and none could be got till the next day. i was so sorry for the poor brute that i forgot my own fatigues. it was turned loose in the monastery enclosure to pick up what it could, but as that had been fed over by geese the fare was very scanty. the iguman meanwhile was arranging for me. it was lucky that there were other guests in the house or i should have fared hardly, for it was the fast of ss. peter and paul. as it was, supper was just ready. the company was most kind to me, and, when i had fed, the iguman conducted me to the room which was reserved for the vladika when he visited the monastery. it had a proper bedstead in it! i wished the iguman "good-night," tumbled into bed without further investigations, and did not find out till next morning that i had not only the vladika's room but in all probability his sheets also. the iguman came early to see me, gave me a lump of sweet stuff and a tumbler full of boiled milk and sugar for breakfast,--for no one in these parts thinks of eating anything solid before midday,--and we went out to see the churches. the patriarchia of pech, formerly the seat of the archbishop of servia, was, to the grief of the serbs, made dependent on the patriarchate of constantinople in 1766 by the turkish government. of the four little churches neatly fitted together to form one large, irregular, dome-sprinkled building, three, including the church of the virgin and the saborna crkva (cathedral), were built by the patriarch arsenio, and are, i was told, nearly eight hundred years old. the fourth and smallest, st. nikola, was added later by the patriarch makario. the churches are entered by a portico, the tiled roof of which is supported on wooden posts and which leads into a long narthex. the saborna crkva is by far the largest. nor is it easy to give an idea of the interior of any of these churches. the general effect, made up of a mass of extraordinary detail, is old-world and barbaric in the extreme. the walls are entirely covered with frescoes of the most primitive description, a jumble of fierce colours toned by age into a rich harmony. quantities of cut glass chandeliers hang from the roof, and from these again dangle numbers of ostrich eggs. dim gilt ikons and holy pictures, blackened by the tapers that with pious zeal are stuck on their frames by a blob of hot wax, hang on the walls. reading desks, taper stands, candle-sticks, all are of the most early pattern and the rudest make. a curious seat, under a canopy hung with dingle-dangles, is the throne upon which was crowned stefan dechanski, the sveti kralj. and this curious primitive art, that now looks exotic, eastern, foreign, once swayed the art of all europe. we find its traces in our own norman architecture; we find them in the early churches of italy. it reached its highest stage of development in st. sophia, and st. mark's, venice, but it is now dead and done for. art is no exception to the rule, that all things are blighted in the land on which the turk has laid a hand. after his arrival all further development was arrested. the monastery covers a good deal of ground. there are long rambling guest-houses for the crowds that come on pilgrimage days, rooms with long fixed tables spreading out into a large round at one end for the accommodation of those of high degree. one of these buildings is of the same date as the church. timbered, wide-eaved, and picturesque, it is a wonderful relic of mediæval days. this was doubtless the sort of accommodation chaucer's pilgrims put up with. pilgrims in those days were as ready to sleep in rows on the floor as they are in the balkans now, and their luggage was doubtless brought down to the same irreducible minimum. [illustration: ipek, old servia.] chapter xviii to dechani and back to podgoritza having shown me all over the monastery, the iguman suggested that dechani was only three hours' ride, and that, as my pony was fed and refreshed, i could easily ride over in the cool of the afternoon. dechani was his joy, and no english traveller had been allowed to go there for twelve or fifteen years. though my interest in the churches of the patriarchia pleased him much, "you must see dechani," was his constant cry, and he spared no pains to get me there. but my passport had been taken off to the sud (police bureau) by the zaptieh, and without a passport even a three hours' ride was, i was told, an impossibility. it is one thing to give up a passport and quite another thing to get it back. it was a friday, moreover, the turkish holy day, and the passport department refused to act till the evening. i proposed to employ the afternoon by a walk through pech, and evoked a chorus of dismay and horror. radovan said briefly, "it is better that thou goest not"; the monastery people prayed me not to go. and the reason was "the nizams." it was friday, and the streets would be full of them. the fear of the christians as to the fate of a woman among nizams off duty amounted to terror; they offered instead to take me up a little hill whence i could see the town in safety. they would not hear of my going to town with only one protector, and as, in event of "a row," the blame would probably fall most heavily upon any local christian mixed up in it, i gave up my plan reluctantly. now the nizams were part of the much-vaunted austro-russian reform scheme, and were supposed to be there in the interests of the christian population. the story of old servia is one of uninterrupted misery. the suffering of the christian peoples in the balkans is no new thing. it began with the advent of the turk, and will continue while he remains. as long ago as 1690 the intolerable lot of the serbs of old servia induced no less than 37,000 zadrugas (family groups, including uncles and cousins) to migrate to hungary. the albanians then spread over the vacated lands, which they have been permitted to harry with impunity ever since. a small unarmed christian population "regulated" by albanians is not merely unable to rise, it is unable to cry loudly enough to be heard, and there was no foreign consul to make reports. it was not until the russians (who with extraordinary diplomatic skill lose no opportunity of winning the love of the slavs of the balkans) forced stcherbina into mitrovitza in 1902 that any light was shed upon the condition of this hapless land. the albanians promptly shot him. the christians regard him as the man that died to save them, and cherish his portrait. until stcherbina came they lived in a state of terror, and all that the tax-gatherers spared the albanians looted. owing to his death, the government had sent the nizams to subdue the albanians. there were some 30,000 nizams quartered in and around pech, i was told, and from the "safe little hill" the vast camps around the town were very visible. it was only the presence of these troops that made it possible to go from one place to another; the pass i had ridden had been open a bare two months. the situation, as i found it, was that the people lived in present terror of the nizams and in future terror of the albanians, who would return as soon as they were withdrawn. the town had to feed the troops, and bread and hay were dear. all friday afternoon turkish officers came sight-seeing to the patriarchia, dashed into the courtyard, shouted for someone to hold their horses, were supplied with coffee and tobacco, and were conducted round the churches by the iguman. gangs of tommies, too, swarmed in, and the monastery people, who, i noticed, never let them enter the church unattended, were quite tired out. by request i sat well apart on the farther side, for "the turks will say bad things to you." knowing no turkish, i thought this would not matter; but as the others could not see things from this point of view, i spent the afternoon with the various christian visitors who came in. among these were a schoolmaster and a young theological student who came from dechani. by the evening, as nothing had been heard of my passport, the iguman became very anxious; folk seemed to think there was going to be trouble, and told me that the pasha was a "ljuta zmija" (a fierce serpent). a final message to the sud brought the reply that the passport and two zaptiehs would arrive at the monastery at eight next morning. eight came and passed, and nothing happened. the monastery decided i must go myself to the sud. the iguman, another monk, the schoolmaster, the theology student, radovan, and the pony all came too. i was very much ashamed of giving so much trouble, but they would not hear of my going with less escort. we first went round outside the town, as "our catholic brethren" wished to see me before i left. they were franciscans, mostly italian, and were exceedingly civil. their house was far better found and evidently much wealthier than the orthodox establishment, and the rakija which they pressed upon me with lavish hospitality was most alarmingly strong. i was glad to find that the representatives of the two christian churches were on very friendly terms, and was given to understand that the frati were the only people who had any civilising effect upon the albanians. unfortunately, their flock is but small, the mass of the albanians here being moslem. from the catholic house we went through the town. it is a fairly large place, too dirty to be picturesque. filthy and awful with a frowsy squalor, it swarms with street dogs, dogs that explain why the dog is called an unclean animal in the east, great wolfish beasts, a mass of unhealed scars, scabby, covered with mange, hairless, horrible. the shops are all mean little booths with little in them and nothing of interest; water, fairly clean, flows in a channel down all the main streets. most of the houses are built of mud, and are mere hovels. the pavement, of course, is vile, and there are a dozen or more small mosques. it was bazaar day, and crowds of filthy, ragged people were swarming in, but seemed to have little for sale. weapons had recently been prohibited in the town, so, said the iguman, there was now no danger on bazaar day. of well-armed zaptiehs and of nizams there was no lack--the place swarmed with them. at last we arrived at the sud, went into a yard full of zaptiehs and armed men, were sent into an office by the entrance, and told to wait a little. we did. a man came in and said he knew nothing about an english passport. the iguman and i were sent up a ramshackle wooden staircase on to a large landing crowded with awful filthy people, stinking and a-buzz with flies, wild-eyed and apparently half starved. the air was hot and heavy, and the constant clamour of imploring voices ceased only when from time to time a zaptieh bounced in and bellowed. streaming with perspiration, i pulled out my handkerchief, and with it a little hard crust of the day before yesterday's bread. a man snatched it almost before it touched the floor, and bolted it like a wild beast. it was terrible; but i dared not offer money, nor show that i had any. at last an official asked us into an office, a stuffy den, but better than the inferno outside. clerks who tried to look european on chairs, but spoilt the effect by sitting cross-legged, were scratching backwards writing, and passing it through "buttery hatches" with desperate energy. we were told to "wait," and were given coffee. the iguman up till now had shown no signs of impatience. "they must give you permission; you are english," was his constant cry. now he began to ask questions of everyone that came in. and no one had heard of an english passport. i told him i would give up dechani. he replied that the turks were always like this, "and you must see it, you must." then we were ordered to another office. this belonged to a very great personage, the pasha himself, i believe. after a hurried and whispered conversation between several people, i was told to wait outside the door. a voice was loudly raised within, and the iguman came flying out. we were to return to the first office again! we went. it was crowded, and we were told to wait. by this time i felt so strongly that oriental methods did not suit me at all that i said "no, thank you" to coffee, and told the official that if he did not give me my passport at once i would go back to berani without it. this great linguistic effort amazed him so much that he explained the delay. they had sent a telegram about me, and were awaiting the reply. a voice from the crowd said suddenly in french, "mademoiselle is without doubt english! they do not know what to do about you. they are afraid to stop you, but they dare not let you travel farther. they have sent for instructions to uskub. i too am waiting for my teskereh, but you will have yours first; you are english. no one here understands french; one may talk. if you had been here a few weeks ago you could have gone to uskub, and met the newspaper correspondents. now they are all gone." he came nearer, and added in a lower voice, "they think it is all over, and it has not begun." i was aware of this, and hastily squashed his remarks on such a dangerous subject. the official was occupied in bellowing at the crowd of poor wretches who were applying for passes. and they were all told to wait. one luckless boy who had two women with him cried out wildly that they had nothing to eat, that they wished to go to work as reapers, and had waited many days. "by god, it is true," cried a voice from the crowd; but the official only bellowed at him, and he had to give place to the next applicant. they were all serb-speaking peasants in the last stages of misery. finally, i was told that my passport should be sent me very soon, and that i was to go. we went to a house in the christians' quarter of the town, where the men who had accompanied me were waiting with many others. everyone was absorbed in a handful of newspaper cuttings that had just been brought in a dirty, much-worn envelope. they contained an account of the servian murders. it was the 6th of july, and till then no details of the affair had come through! even then the accounts were so meagre that they appeared to be some of the first published. they were grim and brief. "death of queen draga," ran one. "queen draga is dead. the circumstances of her death are not exactly known, but there were many revolver wounds in her body." a piece of journalism which requires some beating. two mounted zaptiehs clattered into the yard at one o'clock, and i was told to start at once. they were to take me to dechani and bring me back. i was to go nowhere else, and the pasha would keep my passport. i had hoped to push right on to prisren from dechani, but was outwitted. as for returning across country to andrijevitza, that, i was told, was out of the question. the albanians were up, and even with an escort of nizams we should probably not get through without a fight. we set off for dechani at once. the school teacher and the student both rode with me, and the former most kindly lent me his horse, a very good one. we rode over the undulating plain, and they showed me where kosovo lay, where mitrovitza, and where prisren. the two zaptiehs, both moslem, were apparently as much interested in kosovo as were the christians. one, yakoub, was a bosnian, and his mohammedanism sat exceeding light upon him. he was delighted with the job of riding about with me; his discourse was all of the montenegrins, and their great valour, and of that hero, milosh obilich, who slew the wicked sultan murad. "he was a veliki junak! come with me, and i will show you his grave," said yakoub enthusiastically. but he wore the sultan's uniform, and of his two uncles one was a pasha and the other a kaimmakam! he was a fair-haired, blue-eyed young fellow bubbling with animal spirits, singing songs and making his horse plunge out of pure light-heartedness. the conversion of his forefathers, doubtless for the sake of peace and quiet, to islam had placed him in the class of the rulers and not of the ruled. it therefore naturally never occurred to him to doubt the superiority of mohammedanism, but the heroes that he cherished in his heart were all christian, and belonged to the days of tsar lazar and the great servian empire. the ride was a short and easy one. the land is rich and fertile but little cultivated, for it is constantly liable to be raided. such crops as there were, were splendid, and the grass grew thick in the fields. it was hard to believe that the country had been impassable two months before, or that there was any present danger, but the few peasants who were going our way clung to our party carefully; all the houses, and there were very few, were more like blockhouses, had no windows on the ground floor and none larger than loopholes above, and yakoub thought it necessary to assure us every few minutes that nothing would happen to-day. the monastery, which lies about 1500 feet above sea-level, appeared as a white church surrounded by outbuildings at the entrance of a magnificently wooded valley, through which flows a small river, the dechanski bistritza, the one slope rich with stately chestnuts and the other fir-clad. robbed of its broad lands, which have been swooped on by the albanians, who at the time of my visit made further progress up the valley impossible, it lies precariously on the bloody edge of things, and only the wonderful white marble church tells of its former glory. it was being used as a military outpost, and twenty-five nizams and an officer were quartered on the monastery, which had also a guard of its own, a set of mohammedan albanians, who were said to be very loyal. they looked like a wild-beast show, spoke nothing but albanian, had the most elegant manners, and i was never allowed outside the monastery gate without a couple of them. dechani dates from the palmy days of the servian empire, and is its finest monument. the church, built by a dalmatian from cattaro, is of white and dull red marble, striped in the manner familiar to us in italy, and would be a fine building anywhere. here, a unique specimen in a land almostly entirely given over to barbarism, it is looked upon as something almost miraculous, and is regarded with a veneration which has not improbably worked upon the superstitious souls of the albanians and saved it from destruction. and to the serb it is an outward and visible sign that this land is his. though it has been the turk's for five hundred years, he has set no such mark upon it. roughly speaking, he has spent those five centuries in camping out on it temporarily as an army of occupation! nothing is more surprising about him than the speed with which all visible signs of his existence can be wiped out, but the stain he has left upon the souls of the people is, alas! harder to erase. stefan vii., king of servia, known on account of his pious works as the sveti kralj (holy king), built dechani in the first half of the fourteenth century. mediæval servia, like the rest of mediæval europe, was a place were careers were apt to be brief, bloody, and brilliant. the turks did not find a highly civilised people and overwhelm them with barbarism. they found a people who, though steadily progressing, were no better than their neighbours, and they arrested their further development. stefan vii.'s career as king was covered with glory--he subdued the bulgarians and was successful against the greeks--but it came to an abrupt and untimely end. he was murdered in 1336 in his castle, zvechan, near mitrovitza. it is said by some that he was strangled by order of his son stefan, whose nickname, dushan, has been interpreted to mean the strangler (dushiti, to strangle). but the patriotic serb, who cannot bear to cast a slur on the maker of great servia, states simply that he "was murdered," and derives dushan from "dusha," the soul, stefan the soul of the nation. the dead king was canonised as st. stefan dechanski and is extraordinarily celebrated as a miracle worker. his death is pictured upon his shrine; two men tug the ends of a cord that is twisted round his neck, and an angel fetches his soul. he is, i was told, exceedingly good, and it is of no use to approach him in prayer if you have any bad thought in your heart. he helps the poor and performs the most marvellous cures. the belief in his power is far spread, even yakoub had a sort of sneaking respect for him, and i was bidden to prepare my mind for the visit to the sveti kralj even before i had left berani. nor does he, alone, protect the church. once a turk stole a jewel from a picture of the holy mother of god. shortly afterwards he was found dead and unwounded! then the jewel was found upon him, and it was known that the holy mother of god had slain him, for to die of anything but a wound was clearly a great marvel. i stood by the shrine of the murdered sveti kralj in the church that he had built, and thought of alexander and his end as reported in the dirty newspaper cuttings of that morning. the school teacher talked of stcherbina's death at mitrovitza, and the old world and the new seemed very close together. the whole interior of the church is elaborately frescoed. all the faces that are within reach from the ground have been poked out, but those above are very well preserved. the line of nemanja kings that covers one wall of the narthex is especially interesting. the magnificent old ikonostasis is of carved and gilt wood (cleverly restored). its pillars are all wreathed and twined with plants, birds, and beasts elaborately coloured and carved in very high relief, and the whole mass of brown gold and colour is very rich in effect. the floor is paved with white and dull red marble, and the piers which support the roof are in several instances monolithic. the tomb of the sveti kralj's sister helena (also, i believe, canonised) stands in the body of the church, and a big cross from russia, recently presented. the two marbles from which the church is entirely built were quarried in the immediate neighbourhood. it is thirty metres high to the base of the cupola. doors and windows are all elaborately and splendidly carved, and the whole is in such a wonderfully good state of preservation that it is small wonder that the people have deep faith in the protecting power of the sveti kralj, and believe that in the whole world there is no building quite so beautiful. the treasures of the monastery are all dispersed, and its books and mss. relating to the old kings of servia are scattered. the folk at the monastery are now miserably poor, and toil in their few fields for a bare living. the feeding of the soldiers quartered upon them strained their resources sadly. having seen the church, i was taken to see a spring of effervescent mineral water which rises on the bank of the river opposite the monastery, and is considered a great wonder. to get at it we had to walk up the valley for about ten minutes and cross a bridge. the student and the schoolmaster took me, and the two albanian zaptiehs and yakoub came too. it was very hot, and they all felt the heat much more than i did. when we had duly drunk of the water and cooled a bit, yakoub remarked it was a pity to go all the way back in the sun, when the monastery was so near; if the lady would only take her boots off, we could all cross the river. this tender care for his own comfort was very characteristic of yakoub. the student asked me timidly if i had ever done such a thing. i had. they were delighted, and we all took to the water. it was very much deeper and swifter than i expected, and the bottom very slippery. i narrowly escaped having the bath that i was greatly in need of, but we all got through, climbed the hedge into the monastery orchard, and lay out in the shade. yakoub being warm, took off his cartridge belt, threw down his rifle, strewed his weapons about, bared his chest, spread a wet handkerchief on it, and sighed with satisfaction. weapons as worn by him were certainly uncomfortable. he had a large revolver and a sheath-knife with a blade some ten inches long shoved down inside his trousers, and could not bend till he had fished them out. he gave me the lot to play with, and took my lock-backed pocket-knife to examine in return. his knife was a beauty, with a broad, deeply grooved blade, "for the blood," he explained. it tapered to a fine point, slid into a leather silver-mounted sheath, and had belonged to his grandfather. he pointed out its fine edge, spat on the blade, and shaved the tip of his chin delicately. the albanians contributed their silver-mounted revolvers to the collection, for they were most anxious to assist in entertaining me, and the conversation ran entirely on murdered monarchs. yakoub was in his element. he ran through all the recent assassinations, including that of president mckinley. "and not one in england!" he said regretfully. not wishing to be out of it, i contributed charles the first. no one had heard of him, and it excited great interest. "how did you kill him?" asked yakoub eagerly. "we cut his head off." he roared with laughter. shooting is a death for soldiers and gentlemen; head-cutting is a way of triumphing over a contemptible foe. the idea of cutting off a king's head pleased him so that he passed it on to the albanians, whose faces became wreathed in smiles. "but we killed one," said yakoub, for he felt that i at present held the record, and did not wish to be cut out. "we killed abdul aziz like this," and he turned up his sleeve and prodded the veins of his arm with his knife tip. alexander's death struck him as very humorous, but he disapproved most strongly of the shooting of draga. he pondered some minutes on the list of dead rulers, then he cried suddenly, "i would not be a king; if i could, i would not be a king! a king lives in a prison. everyone wishes to kill him. he is always afraid. day and night he is afraid. i would be like thee, o lady. i would have enough money to live, and i would see the world. thou goest everywhere, seest all things, and no one wishes to kill thee. thou art a woman, but men serve thee. by god, that is a marvel!" we returned to the monastery, and i went to evening service in the church. the tiny congregation consisted of the half-dozen men of the monastery and a few christian peasants. i was put in a conspicuous place, had a special censing all to myself, and felt much embarrassed. the evening was exhausting, as the whole party, zaptiehs and all, took it in turns to keep me company and ask me questions, and displayed endless patience in making me understand and reply. i did not get supper till half-past nine, and then, dead tired, begged the company to leave me. they all left but the student, who had been specially instructed to look after me. he was a very civil, gentlemanly youth of servian blood, with a sad face and a timid, hunted air. he waited till the footsteps died away down the corridor; then he said anxiously, "lock the door to-night. the nizams will come. they are very, very bad; all from asia." i had, of course, intended to lock the door, nizams or no nizams, and thought he was nervous, so did not pay much attention to this. as he left, radovan came in. he looked all round, tried the iron window bars, the lock, and the staple the bolt shot into. "all is strong," he said; "lock the door and turn the key twice. the nizams will come in the night. they have been talking about you. they are devils. all from asia. they have long knives." he drew his finger across his throat, dropped his head on one side, and gave a clicking gasp so horribly realistic that i suspect it was studied from nature. "they will do 'that,' just for what is in your saddle-bag. they will say the christians have done it, and the officer will believe them." radovan was in grim earnest. he waited outside till he heard the lock shoot twice, said "sleep safely," and left me. i had no weapon of any kind, and was excessively tired, so i decided that there was no object in sitting up to have one's throat cut, and that violent surgical operations are better performed under chloroform. i slept heavily till morning, and shall never know if that door were tried. personally, i think that the danger was exaggerated. people, after all, are mainly governed by expediency, and killing a british subject was really not worth the trouble. i tell the facts as they occurred, to show the estimation in which the army of the reformers is held. to put the position briefly: no man's life or property is considered safe from the albanians, and no woman's honour from the nizams, in "old servia." savage as are the albanians, i have been told repeatedly that they never assault women. next morning i woke up and shook myself, and the student brought a quarter of a pint of water, and kindly superintended the washing of my hands and face. the arrangements were all primitive: towel and table-napkin were one and the same, and the spoon and fork were cleaned on my pillow; but then it is a great thing to have a spoon, fork, or pillow at all. i went down into the yard and began drawing. out came the turkish officer, a young lieutenant. i was scared, for turks are said to disapprove of all drawing, and i feared to lose all my notes. as luck would have it, he had never seen anybody sketch before, and was childishly delighted. he looked at everything i had done, and then wanted to see a drawing made. yakoub, the enterprising, at once suggested sitting for his portrait, and did so. the lieutenant was now enthusiastic, made no objection to my little camera, which i had hitherto carefully concealed from all but christian eyes, and would, i believe, have let me photograph him had i dared ask. he left to drill his men, but his curiosity soon brought him back again. this time we had a formal interview in my room. the monastery people attended humbly, the officer came in style with several zaptiehs; there was much saluting and salaaming. radovan stood in the background and listened. i alone knew that he was a montenegrin. the lieutenant was quite a young fellow--small, slim, and dark, with clean-cut, good features. he was smart and dapper as to his uniform, and wore tight, shiny boots of a most unpractical nature. he spoke nothing but turkish, of which i know no word. he had never before, i believe, talked with a foreign lady, seemed to find my unveiledness most embarrassing, and spoke with his eyes discreetly cast down. he preferred speaking sideways over my shoulder. in striving to understand him i once looked him squarely in the eyes, and he turned his head abruptly. the conversation was sufficiently droll. yakoub stood at attention and translated. turkish is a flowery tongue. the lieutenant began glibly with many bows and smiles, using his hands to gesticulate freely. he had very good hands and neat joints. after some minutes he paused. "the officer says," said yakoub briefly, "that it is a great pleasure to him that you have come." "i thank the officer very much," said i. yakoub enlarged this into a speech three minutes long, punctuated with salaams and gesticulation, and the lieutenant again expressed himself as highly delighted. he himself was from stamboul, and was in this part of the country for the first time. it was a great wonder to him to find it so savage. he hoped i did not think all turkey was like this. in constantinople it was very different. there all was good; christians and turks lived together as friends, and there was no danger, "no more than with you in england." i accepted this statement, and thought of the armenian massacre. "the officer," said yakoub, "hears that you have been before among the albanians. he sees them for the first time. he wishes to know what you think of them." "they are brave," i replied, "and intelligent, but they are wild, they know nothing, and they live like animals." i dared not add, "they have no government and no law." this, edited by yakoub, met with great approval. "the officer says that is true. they have great intelligence; they must have schools in all the towns and villages. there will be schools, and all will be reformed." it occurred to me that the turks, having held albania for some four centuries, might have thought out some plan of the sort before, but i merely replied that schools were truly necessary. the officer was great on reform. the sultan of turkey, the king of england, and the emperor of germany were, he said, the only sovereigns in europe who had intelligence, and, between them, all would soon be reformed. i was overcome with the company with which we were classed, and struck dumb, but yakoub expressed the delight which i ought to have felt. there was much more of reform, of which the lieutenant seemed very sanguine. already all was very well. he was young and enthusiastic, and i felt sorry for him, for i knew of the storm that was about to burst in macedonia, and had already been warned to travel in no train on turkish territory, more especially in none that contained troops. and all the time, the people of the monastery sat round and said nothing, and all the while the lieutenant babbled on. then to my surprise yakoub said, "the officer wishes you to see everything. take as many nizams as you wish, and go to gusinje if it is pleasing to you, and thence back into montenegro." this was a handsome offer, and i wanted badly to go. but the officer did not propose to come himself, and i remembered the warnings of the night before. my passport was in the hands of the pasha at pech, and i felt i was responsible for radovan. if radovan were detected as a montenegrin in the heart of albania, it might cost him his life; if anything happened to me he had been promised prison. i glanced at him for a casting vote, and the haggard anxiety of his face left no room for doubt. i thanked the officer, and said i should return to pech. whereupon he gallantly said that he would escort me thither, and i returned in great style with five zaptiehs and an officer. conversation was difficult, for he considered it polite to ride so that his horse's head was level with my knee, and yakoub had to ride by him and shout it all on. he pointed out that i was being well taken care of, and begged that i would tell my people of the reformed state of the country. i must therefore emphasise the fact that it was possible to ride for three hours without being shot at, for this he admired greatly. he was exceedingly kind, and said he would see that i had zaptiehs to take me back to berani. when we came to the parting of the ways--for he was going to the camp and i to the monastery--he suddenly rode up alongside, and with a valiant attempt at being european, looked me full in the face, shook hands rather shyly, said, "bon voyage, mamzelle," and clattered off. we rode through the christian side of the town, and the people came to their doors and said, "welcome, lady," as i passed. yakoub followed me in high good-humour, to say that the officer had promised him the job of escorting me to berani. this had been manoeuvred by radovan. "yakoub," he said, "is a turk, but he is a good turk. he has no money. give him a bakshish, then he will come to berani with us." the gay bosnian, with his crude views and the schoolboy glee with which he accepted his "tip," was such an amusement to me that i was glad of his further society. his conversation was often quaint to excess. at the monastery he was severely turkish. they offered him a glass of wine, which he refused with contempt. "i am a turk! i drink no wine," and the conscious virtue upon his countenance was a sight to see. he, however, expended my gift on copious libations of rakija, which he tipped down like so much water, and he came furnished with a large bottleful in his saddle-bag for the return trip. rakija, it seems, is not mentioned in the koran. not that what is or is not mentioned in it seemed to trouble him. i spent almost the whole of three days with him, and i never saw him make the least attempt at a prayer. the foreign nizams, on the other hand, prayed about the country freely. but he was very certain that he was a good mohammedan. he told me one day, with a wicked grin, that he was on the side of the boers. "why?" i asked. "because they are turks," said yakoub promptly. the student and the schoolmaster were present, and we all roared with laughter. yakoub was disconcerted. "what are they, then? catholic or pravoslavni?" "prodesdan," said i. this was a blow to him, for it seems that "prodesdan" is quite the lowest form of christian. "but war is always between turks and christians," he objected; "they must be turks. how many mosques are there in the transvaal?" "none." he thereupon lost all further interest in the boers. he came from near prijepolje, and had great contempt for bosnians who live under austrian rule. as for the austrians--he made a face and spat. but in spite of his turkish sympathies he had acquired none of the turk's imperturbability, and leapt from one emotion to another. over his wife he was quite sentimental; over the fact that he was childless he was greatly depressed. "i am twenty-eight," he said gloomily, "and in three months i shall be an officer, but i have no son." he counted on his fingers, and did a little arithmetic. "i might have three by now," he added simply, "but there is not one, not one." "dost thou very much wish a son?" i asked. yakoub was very much in earnest. "by god," he cried, "it would be a great delight to me. i wish a son that shall be a veliki junak!" and he entered into some very quaint particulars. no longer the rollicking gendarme, he sat on the floor, an unhappy man who required comforting. "thou are yet young," i said; "i hope thou wilt have a son that is a veliki junak." "mashallah i will and i hope that thou wilt too!" said yakoub politely. after which i considered the subject sufficiently thrashed out. the return ride to berani was easier than the previous journey. unhampered by a caravan, and provided through the lieutenant's kindness with two mounted gendarmes, we made good progress. the pasha stuck to my passport till the last minute, as yakoub pointed out with a grin when he returned it to me as we were starting. he also volunteered that it was a good thing that i had not gone with the officers nizams, but gave no answer when i asked "why?" the pasha, it may be of interest to note, has, according to the papers, been recently dismissed from his post. yakoub's relatives are, for all i know to the contrary, still in power. the defile by daylight was extraordinarily beautiful. about half-way through it yakoub announced that he thought it was safe now, and that if i were not afraid the second zaptieh might go back. i told him i was quite willing, as i had had but one man before, and he was on foot. this seemed to surprise him much. they pulled up at the only hut in the pass, and had a long consultation with its albanian owners, the result of which was that the second man rode with us to the top. i was glad that when riding this road in the dark i had not realised it was in quite such a touch-and-go condition. "no danger now," said yakoub cheerfully as we rode out into the open, and the second man returned with a party of four zaptiehs and an officer that we here fell in with. "three months ago i would not have dared ride that way with only one other man; by god, no! not if the officer had told me. all the woods filled with wild arnaouts, perhaps a man behind every rock. piff-paff and you are dead, shot in your living heart! as there is a god i would not have dared it. if one had to go, it was with thirty men or more. now the caravans can pass again." but he continued to ride with his rifle ready on his knees until we were almost at berani. a sudden and most violent thunderstorm on the hilltop drove us in a hurry to the stinking "han," and the rain came down in such sheets that i was glad to be under cover, even in such a hole. it was full of albanians. we waited full three-quarters of an hour and drank coffee. i was anxious to start as soon as the rain slackened, but yakoub did not mean to get a wetting. he was very happy discoursing in albanian to a large and admiring circle, to whom he was a great man. he told them, so he explained to me, that in my country the men always waited on the women, which they all agreed was a most extraordinary state of things. they all sat round and gazed at me as though i were possessed of peculiar power, and i returned their unblinking stare. "he and i both serve her," said yakoub, pointing at radovan, and radovan murmured, "they think you are like an officer." the rain lifted. radovan went out with my saddle-bag. yakoub rolled up his overcoat, and went down to strap it on his saddle. his parting words of affection, and the kisses which he lavished on the most casual acquaintances, always took much time; so to hurry matters i picked up the rest of our belongings, followed out on to the balcony, and handed down my waterproof and cape. yakoub looked up from his saddle-girths. "give me my martini and my cartridges," he said. i dangled the belt down to him, tucked the rifle under my arm with my umbrella, and descended. he took his martini with a beaming smile and a twinkle, most humorous, in his eyes. "now _thou_ hast served _me_?" he said; "it is right." he got off his little trick with great neatness, and was vastly pleased with himself. i have no doubt he left the rifle on purpose. he considered it a very fine weapon. it was of american make--peabody-martini. all the turkish gendarmerie are thus armed. it carries only one cartridge, and according to radovan is very inferior to the repeating rifles of the montenegrins. the ride over the grassy uplands was splendid; the ground was ablaze with flowers, and the peaks rose violently blue from a black belt of pinewood. yakoub hopped off his horse and played like a child. the hill sloped away steeply below us in a great incline of grass, down, down for full a thousand feet. his joy was to balance flat rocks on edge, and to send them spinning into the depths. he shouted with laughter as they leapt and span. even radovan, the serious, found it amusing, and we wasted some minutes over this pleasing pastime, which people who are inclined to giddiness would not have enjoyed. it was quite dark when we got into berani. the landlady rushed out when she heard our horse hoofs, for she was expecting her husband, who had also gone to pech. their only daughter, who had married and gone there a year ago, had just had her first child. it was a boy. the happy grandfather, on hearing the news (brought through by a caravan), leapt on his horse and rode over in hot haste. the joy of grand-mamma, aged thirty-one, was boundless. it is a grand thing for a woman to have a son, she said. then all the men in the place go to her room and sing and dance and drink rakija, for joy that another man is born! having seen "grandpapa," i was able to report that all was well; and she took us in and fed us on eggs and milk, for nothing else could be got at that time of night. i bakshished yakoub for the last time, and told him it was "for coffee," which delighted him immensely, and he filled himself up with rakija until radovan, who was exceedingly temperate, was scandalised. but no amount of liquor seemed to affect the moslem's hard head. we left for andrijevitza early next morning, radovan once more a happy man in a montenegrin cap. as we passed the guard-house yakoub flew out for a final farewell, and discovered, for the first time, that radovan was a montenegrin. this he considered a splendid joke; he slapped his thigh and shouted with laughter, and we parted very good friends. frontier life contains many mysteries which i am unable to unravel. radovan was much relieved when we had crossed the montenegrin border, and i too felt that i had come home again. the vague, indescribable, ever-present dread of "something"; the sense of general insecurity that leads people to shut the window before speaking, to glance mechanically round to see who is within earshot; the general sense of oppression hanging like a cloud over all things, rolled away. we were in a land which is wild and rough, if you will, but safe and free. i have no space to tell of all the fun i had on my return. andrijevitza was pleased with me, and was lavishly hospitable. time was flying, and i was due home. the herdsmen had driven their flocks to the summer pasturage, and i arranged that radovan should pilot me over the mountains on the first fine day. we had a final grand night with the gusle, and then, having kissed the ladies and drunk stirrup-cups with the men, i tore myself away with extreme reluctance, and started up kom of the vassoievich shortly after the "white" dawn, with the knowledge that i might wander many leagues over the face of the earth before i met a set of kinder friends than the fighting frontiersmen of montenegro. proud, self-respecting, fiercely unyielding by long inheritance of temper, they are outwardly very gentle and courteous, so courteous that it is only on very rare occasions that a certain grim tightening of a strong, square jaw, a gleam of very white teeth, and a sudden leap of lightning to the eye reveal in a flash their possibilities as foes. with an extraordinary lot of strength in their physique, they have very little knowledge how to apply it and hardly any enterprise. this is due mainly to entire ignorance of how to set about things. in the one branch of industry they understand, "junashtvo," they are certainly not deficient in energy. they are very pious, and never say they are going to do anything without adding, "god willing." if you forget to say this, someone generally puts it in for you very seriously. they are very honest, and their standard of morality is high. and they are extraordinarily visionary, and dream dreams of the great servian empire that is to be, where everyone will be free and happy. exceedingly poor, they are also exceedingly hospitable, and will share with a friend as long as they have anything to share. it is true that they have the defects of their qualities, but their qualities are such that there are many more civilised places that would be the better for a leavening of them. radovan and i started up the slopes of kom of the vassoievich, and i was promised a fine day. i owed a good deal to this strong, ragged, level-headed man who had piloted me safely through a somewhat risky enterprise, and was glad of his further company. he had displayed the most extraordinary tact throughout the tour, and, while playing the part of a humble horse-boy who asked for my orders, had managed and arranged everything. silent and watchful, he was always in the background; he slipped in his pieces of information quietly, told me what to pay, whom to pay, had very definite ideas as to whom i was to speak to or could be left alone with; ascertained, when buying forage for the horse in the town, the state of the country, and passed me the news in three words when he handed me the change. but he never spoke a word unless it was required. on his native hills he was conversational. he had been again to berani, and told me with a grin that the "ljuta zmija," the kaimmakam, had asked, "where is that englishwoman?" and had been very angry when told, "she has eaten, has fed her horse, and is gone." "it was better so," said radovan oracularly, and he added, with a laugh, "and yakoub knew." i was unaware that i had been spirited back across the frontier, and it gave me much food for reflection. the ascent was easy over steep grass slopes, radovan pointing out all the landmarks. he told of the voyvode's prowess. he loved the voyvode, and showed me down below at the head of the valley the old home of the voyvode's family. he told me of his own little cottage, his field of corn and his plum trees, and of his wife and three children, one, thank god, a boy. we had just reached the shoulder of the mountain, and were about 5300 feet up, when a thick fog swept down upon us and driving rain. "we must go to a friends hut," said radovan; "it is poor but dry." we forged on through the most awful weather; dense mist-wreaths swathed everything, and all the world was blotted out. we came to a collection of tiny hovels, radovan's friend welcomed us, and we crawled in out of the wet. his hut was a shed made of a few planks; i could only stand upright in the middle. the mud floor was dug out about six inches and a heap of logs blazed in a hole at one end. near the fire a very young calf was tethered; there was also a half-blind woman, three girls, and two hens. we were warmly greeted; my host spread a straw mat for me to sit on, brought in my saddle-bags, and threw wood on the fire. "this is how we live in the 'katun,'" said he. "we are poor, and it is the best we can give you. you are very welcome." he made me a couch with his greatcoat and my saddle-bags, and started cooking the dinner, for it was midday. he slung a big pot, poured olive oil in it, and stirred in coarse maize flour as it boiled. "my poor wife cannot see well," he said, "and i do all this. we went all the way to cetinje to the doctor, but he did nothing to the eye that is blind, nothing at all; he only did things to the eye that she can still see a little with." he finished making the porridge, sprinkled some sugar on it, and poured it into a bowl. "here we never see bread or meat; we eat milk and maize. it is good food. up on the mountains it is very healthy, thanks be to god and st. peter, and the water is good." he insisted on my eating his food and not my own, saying, "you will need that to-morrow." and as it was warm, and i was cold and hungry, i found it not unpalatable, and finished up with a bowl of milk. the rest of the party found it very good, as it was extra sweet on my account. the youngest girl, a child of fourteen, i had not noticed much before, as she had sat all the time huddled in a heap on the other side of the fire, and the hut was full of smoke. now she began rocking to and fro, crying, "oh, my foot, my foot!" her father explained that a few days before she had upset the caldron of boiling milk over her foot, and that it pained her so that she could not sleep. an old woman from the next hut came in to look at it. the poor girl drew up her skirt and showed the foot swathed in the filthiest handkerchief. i was horrified, jumped up, and hurried round to the wind side of the fire where she lay and there was no smoke and one could see. the people here have enormous faith in the healing power of any stranger, and they were most delighted when i offered to look at the injury. she peeled off the dirty rags. the skin was off the whole instep; it was dressed with mud and grass, and the edges were angry and forming matter. it evidently pained her horribly. she was a plucky little thing, and let me strip off the pudding of mud and matter, clear the place of grass, and dress it with clean handkerchiefs and lanoline. her skin was very thick and as hard as leather. the fresh dressing relieved her greatly, and as the rain had just lifted i went out to have a look round. for a few minutes the view was incomparably grand. the huge jagged summit of kom rose up abruptly from the grass not a quarter of a mile away, and stood all bare and lonely, quite white on an angry purple sky, for the fog had frozen upon it. down below great snakes of mist clung and crawled, and the distant peaks rose one behind the other, violently and vividly blue. it was extraordinarily majestic and as silent as death. down swept the storm again with a fusillade of chill hail. even the hut a few yards away was invisible. we struggled back to it, my host remarking, "you will have to stay the night 'kod nas.' if you try to go farther you will be lost on the mountains." the little girl with the bad foot was much happier and her father greatly pleased. "here," he said, "we either get well or we die. there is no help for us. but, thanks be to god and st. peter, we are very healthy. we have had much trouble. my only son is dead; my poor wife nearly blind. my three brothers are all dead and have left no sons!" he sat down by the injured child and cuddled her. "she is very brave," he said; "i call her my little son." the child smiled with pleasure. they begged me to do something to the woman's eye, but that, of course, was impossible. the rain fell in torrents! we huddled round the fire. at radovan's request i gave them my sketch-book to look at, and was surprised at the rapidity with which they recognised everything, telling the names of all the people who lived in the houses, and laughing heartily over the gusinje man and yakoub. the wind whistled between the planks, the dense smoke eddied round the little hut; they piled on sticks and began preparations for supper. then a terrible thing happened. the woman threw down a little maize and called the hens. they came, a white and a yellow one. there was a whispered talk, and i heard "the pretty one." the yellow hen was caught and given to the lame child to hold. "now we shall have no more eggs!" she said sadly. i was horrified, for i grasped at once that the hen was to be sacrificed to me. i begged for its life. "thou must eat meat," said my host. i pleaded vainly that i had eggs and cheese in my bag. "thou hast given," he said, pointing to the child's foot, "and we must give. this night thou shalt eat meat." the child caressed the hen. i cannot tell how unhappy i felt. two cows, a little flock of sheep, and these two hens were all they had in the world. last year they had had to eat ferns, and they were braver and better and in all ways more deserving than i. "he that hath, to him shall be given," is a bitter thing. my prayers shook the man's resolution for a moment, but so anxious was he to do what he believed to be his duty, that without more ado, and before he should alter his mind, he suddenly whipped out a big knife and sliced off the hen's head with one swift stroke. the neck twitched convulsively. we sat round and watched the blood drip, dripping in silence. everyone felt it was a rather serious event. he tore the bird to pieces with his fingers with great dexterity, and put it to boil in a tin basin. as it had no lid, he went out and picked dock leaves to cover the pot with and replaced them as fast as they were burnt. meanwhile he gave me the liver, warmed through in the wood ashes, as a snack. in due time i was seated before the fowl's remains spread on a piece of board, and the family sat round to see me enjoy it. alas! the muscular bird, swiftly boiled, was like the hardest indiarubber, and i knew not what to do. eat of it i must somehow. with the little blade of my pen-knife i minced it fine, and said that the english did so. then i swallowed pellets of it, and everyone was much pleased. i handed round bread, which was a rare luxury, and they polished off the rest of the fowl in a jiffey, drank up the broth, and were quite lively after their meal. i dressed the bad foot again, and was pleased to find that the rest of the dirt came off with the dressing and the place looked healthy. the child lay down and went to sleep at once. outside all was blackness and wet, and i began to feel that the rest of my life was going to be spent storm-bound on kom of the vassoievich. they pitched wood on the fire. the man said it would be a cold night. we lay down with our feet towards the blaze. i wrapped my head in my waterproof to keep off the bitter blast that whistled through the wide crannies. radovan went to the next hut. there was not room for us all on the floor. my host took off his coat and spread it over me, wrapped himself in his greatcoat, and lay down by my side. "so thou shalt sleep warm," he said. his wife and daughters cuddled up on the other side of him, and in five minutes they were all asleep. i lay and listened to the drip of the rain outside and the steady grind of the calf chewing cud in the corner. the surviving hen roosted on a peg and muttered softly to herself, and i slept, and slept soundly. we woke in the chill grey dawn, and they kindled the fire. the lame child had slept the whole night through. i dressed the wound a third time, gave them the lanoline and most of my handkerchiefs, and told them to keep the place clean and it would soon be well. their gratitude was painful, and they thanked god and st. peter who had sent me. the death of the hen lay heavy on my soul, and i succeeded in making the woman accept a little money. she refused at first, but when she found i really meant it, the tears came to her eyes and they all kissed my hands and dress. i rode away feeling much overcome. the sun had not struggled out, and we tracked through dripping beech woods dim with mist, out on to lone slopes and into solemn valleys, where we were the only living things, till in the evening i saw once more the little shingled houses of kolashin, and drew rein at the inn door. there is little more for me to tell. on my return journey i was deeply touched by the reception we met everywhere, and filled with amazement. now at last, people said, england would know what life was in stara srbija. many of them considered i had risked my life for the cause, and could not thank me enough. they even sent their greetings to the mother who had let me come to help them. i felt very humble, and had to accept hospitality that was undeserved, for i knew that i had done very little and the results would be still less. after stara srbija the route seemed absurdly easy. i avoided brskut and went by way of morachki monastir. it is the oldest monastery in montenegro, and was founded by vuk, governor of the zeta, brother of stefan prvovenchani and st. sava, which makes it six hundred years old. it stands in a lonesome valley, sheltered and fertile but quite cut off from all the rest of the world, and has successfully resisted the turks, who have more than once attacked it furiously. like all the other monasteries that have had to struggle for existence, it is surrounded by a high wall. it was the eve of st. peter's day, and the courtyard was filled with mountain men, who had come to take the communion on the morrow. the archimandrite, a man of splendid stature and military bearing, and courteous as they all are, came out and welcomed us right royally. he was vividly interested in our journey, gave radovan the praise he so well deserved, and filled him with joy. for the archimandrite is a "veliki junak," and praise from his lips was very sweet. i rejoiced that radovan was getting his due. this monastery church is of very great interest to the archæologist, as it has never fallen into turkish hands and is in perfect preservation. the inner doors of black wood inlaid with ivory are very beautiful and the frescoes which cover the walls are in excellent condition. the church is whitewashed without and roofed with wooden shingles. the outer wall is boldly frescoed on either side the main door, st. george slays the dragon decoratively from a white steed, and a large picture of the last judgment shows souls struggling to ascend the ladder to heaven, aided by angels above and torn at by devils below. the doorway and whole group of paintings are protected by a big wooden porch. service on st. peter's day was very solemn, and the crowd of communicants made it last for several hours. i came out from it, more deeply than ever impressed with the fact that it is largely her loyalty to her church that has, so far, saved montenegro. [illustration: podgoritza.] i dined at midday with the archimandrite, who was most hospitable and jovial, and gave me a massive, solid meal, to tackle which required a good deal more heroism than a trip to stara srbija. he saw me off next morning with a stirrup-cup of rakija so potent that neither radovan nor i could manage the trinity in it, and we made our way back to podgoritza. podgoritza was a surprise to me. i came to it out of the wilderness, and was astonished at its size, luxury, and magnificence. then i understood the point of view of the man who had asked me a quantity of questions about london, its population, whether it were really true that there were a hundred trains a day, bazaar every day, electric light, etc., and ended by saying, "and do the potatoes grow well there?" "london is a large town," i said, "all houses, houses." "i know that," he replied; "i asked, do the potatoes grow well in london?" "do potatoes grow in london? what extraordinary ignorance! one can scarcely believe it possible," said an englishman in a london suburb when he heard this tale. he is "culchawed," and devotes time and labour to improving the minds of "our parish." "and what were the theatres like in these out-of-the-way places?" he asked. we were talking of stara srbija. now i sat under the white mulberry trees at the door of the inn and admired podgoritza. for a few weeks i had looked at civilisation across a gap of centuries from the "back of beyond," and things look very different from that point of view, more different than anyone who has lived at one end of europe only can ever realise. and, still in the grip of the wilderness, i parted from radovan with regret and many promises to return next year for a tour so wild and extensive that it is to resemble a young campaign. it was the end of july; podgoritza was sizzling and sweltering in the summer sun. it received me warmly in every sense of the word. but the change from the chilly heights of kom to the baking plain was too trying to induce a long stay. besides, as everyone said, "you are coming back next year." i made a pilgrimage one morning to the grave of marko drekalovich, the "dobar junak" to whose wild valour, military skill, and indomitable spirit this corner of montenegro largely owes its freedom, and who now sleeps on the rugged heights of medun that he tore from the turks, and i returned to cetinje. a carriage and a road were a strange enough experience, and as for montenegro's joy, the only motor car, i admired it almost as much as do the montenegrins. once at cetinje the spell was broken, and from cetinje to london one whirls in a few days in the lap of luxury, second class. i left the balkan peninsula not with "good-bye" but with "do vidjenja" (au revoir). the story of its peoples is tragic, their future looks black, and they have few friends. it is the fashion just now to make a great deal of capital out of the fact that these christian peoples do not love one another as, of course, all christians should, and to say that each one is so jealous of the other that it is impossible to help them. this is rather idle talk, and not unlike that of the pot that called the kettle black. race instinct, one of the strongest of the human passions, has as yet shown no tendency to die out anywhere. it seems, therefore, a little unreasonable to expect the balkan peoples to be the ones to set an example to the rest of the world by dropping all international jealousies and national aspirations. after all, they do but love one another as france does germany. international jealousy is certainly at the root of the present grievous condition of affairs in the balkans, but it is the jealousy not only of the balkan peoples but that of other nations which are supposed to be older and wiser and whose quarrels are of even longer standing. i have no patent medicine to offer for the present trouble. it has got beyond pillules and homoeopathic doses, and nothing but the extirpation of the centre of disease can have any lasting effect. as long as the turk is permitted to "govern" christian peoples, so long will there be trouble in the balkans. that the balkan slavs are not as black as they have often been painted i have tried to show by telling how they have treated me. if they do not possess all the virtues of civilisation they are free from many of its vices. i have found them kindly, generous, and honest, and i wish them very well. twenty years of balkan tangle by m. edith durham. author of the burden of the balkans, high albania, the struggle for scutari, etc. london: george allen & unwin ltd. ruskin house, 40 museum street, w.c.1 first published 1920 (all rights reserved) preface "and let men beware how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble to be prepared; for no man can forbid the sparke nor tell whence it come." bacon. mine is but a tale of small straws; but of small straws carefully collected. and small straws show whence the wind blows. there are currents and cross currents which may make a whirlwind. for this reason the tale of the plots and counterplots through which i lived in my many years of balkan travel, seems worth the telling. events which were incomprehensible at the time have since been illumined by later developments, and i myself am surprised to find how accurately small facts noted in my diaries, fit in with official revelations. every detail, every new point of view, may help the future history in calmer days than these, to a just understanding of the world catastrophe. it is with this hope that i record the main facts of the scenes i witnessed and in which i sometimes played a part. m. e. durham. contents preface chapter 1. picking up the threads chapter 2. montenegro and her rulers chapter 3. first impressions of land and people chapter 4. serbia and the way there chapter 5. what was behind it all chapter 6. the great serbian idea chapter 7. 1903 and what happened chapter 8. macedonia 1903-1904 chapter 9. albania chapter 10. murder will out chapter 11. 1905 chapter 12. bosnia and the herzegovina chapter 13. bosnia in 1906. the plot thickens chapter 14. 1907 chapter 15. 1908: a fateful year chapter 16. 1909. chapter 17. 1910 chapter 18. 1911 and the insurrection of the catholics chapter 19. 1912. the first drops of the thunderstorm chapter 20. 1914. chapter 21. the years of the war index. twenty years of balkan tangle chapter one picking up the threads it was in cetinje in august, 1900, that i first picked up a thread of the balkan tangle, little thinking how deeply enmeshed i should later become, and still less how this tangle would ultimately affect the whole world. chance, or the fates, took me near eastward. completely exhausted by constant attendance on an invalid relative, the future stretched before me as endless years of grey monotony, and escape seemed hopeless. the doctor who insisted upon my having two months' holiday every year was kinder than he knew. "take them in quite a new place," he said. "get right away no matter where, so long as the change is complete." along with a friend i boarded an austrian lloyd steamer at trieste, and with high hopes but weakened health, started for the ports of the eastern adriatic. threading the maze of mauve islets set in that incomparably blue and dazzling sea; touching every day at ancient towns where strange tongues were spoken and yet stranger garments worn, i began to feel that life after all might be worth living and the fascination of the near east took hold of me. a british consul, bound to asia minor, leaned over the bulwark and drew a long breath of satisfaction. "we are in the east!" he said. "can't you smell it? i feel i am going home. you are in the east so soon as you cross adria." he added tentatively: "people don't understand. when you go back to england they say, 'how glad you must be to get home!' they made me spend most of my leave on a house-boat on the thames, and of all the infernal things. ... "i laughed. i did not care if i never saw england again. . . . "you won't ever go back again now, will you?" he asked whimsically, after learning whence i came. "i must," said i, sadly. "oh don't," said he; "tell them you can't, and just wander about the east." he transshipped shortly and disappeared, one of many passing travellers with whom one is for a few moments on common ground. our voyage ended at cattaro and there every one, baedeker included, said it was correct to drive up to cetinje. then you could drive down next day and be able to say ever afterwards, "i have travelled in montenegro." it was in cetinje that it was borne in on me that i had found the "quite new place" which i sought. thus fate led me to the balkans. cetinje then was a mere red-roofed village conspicuous on the mountain-ringed plain. its cottages were but one storeyed for the most part, and contained some three thousand inhabitants. one big building stood up on the left of the road as the traveller entered. "no. that is not the palace of the prince," said the driver. "it is the austro-hungarian legation." austria had started the great legation building competition which occupied the great powers for the next few years. each power strove to erect a mansion in proportion to the amount of "influence" it sought to obtain in this "sphere." russia at once followed. then came italy, with france hard on her heels. england, it is interesting to note, started last; by way of economizing bought an old house, added, tinkered and finally at great expense rebuilt nearly the whole of it and got it quite done just before the outbreak of the great war, when it was beginning to be doubtful if montenegro would ever again require a british legation. but this is anticipating. in 1900 most of the foreign ministers plenipotentiary dwelt in cottages or parlour-boarded at the grand hotel, the focus of civilization, where they dined together at the round table of cetinje, presided over by monsieur piguet, the swiss tutor of the young princes; a truly tactful man whom i have observed to calm a heated altercation between two great powers by switching off the conversation from such a delicate question as: "which legation has the finest flag, france or italy?" to something of international interest such as: "which washer-woman in cetinje gets up shirt fronts best?" for ministers plenipotentiary, when not artificially inflated with the importance of the land they represent, are quite like ordinary human beings. their number and variety caused me to ask: "but why are so many powers represented in such a hole of a place?" and the italian architect who was designing the russian legation replied, more truly than he was perhaps aware: "because montenegro is the matchbox upon which the next european war will be lighted!" cetinje was then extraordinarily picturesque. the prince did all he could to emphasize nationality. national dress was worn by all. so fine was the court dress of montenegro that oddly enough prince nikola was about the only ruling sovereign in europe who really looked like one. the inroads of cook's tourists had stopped his former custom of hobnobbing with visitors, and he dodged with dignity and skill the attempts of american snapshotters to corner him and say: "how do, prince!" a vivid picture remains in my mind of the royal family as it filed out of church on the feast of the assumption of the virgin. the prince, heavy-built, imposing, gorgeous; his hair iron grey, ruddy-faced, hook-nosed, keen-eyed. danilo, his heir, crimped, oiled and self-conscious, in no respect a chip of the old block, who had married the previous year, jutta, daughter of the grand duke of mecklenburg strelitz, who, on her reception into the orthodox church, took the name of militza. montenegro was still excited about the wedding. she looked dazzlingly fair among her dark "in-laws." old princess milena came, stately and handsome, her hair, still black, crowning her head with a huge plait. prince mirko, the second son, was still a slim and good looking youth. petar, the youngest, a mere child, mounted a little white pony and galloped past in the full dress of an officer, reining up and saluting with a tiny sword as he passed his father. the crowd roared applause. it was all more like a fairy tale than real life. but the black coated ministers plenipotentiary were all quite real. from cetinje we went to podgoritza where for the first time i saw albanians. podgoritza was full of them, all in national dress, for montenegro had as yet done little towards suppressing this. nor in this first visit did i go further inland. but i had found "the land where i could have a complete change"; had learnt, too, of the great serbian idea; had had the meaning of the montenegrin cap explained to me; and been told how the reconstruction of the great serb empire of the middle ages was what montenegro lived for. also that the first step in that direction must be the taking of the sanjak of novibazar, which had been formed as a barrier between the two branches of the serb race by the powers at the berlin congress. to me it sounded then fantastic--operatic. i had yet to learn that the opera bouffe of the balkans is written in blood and that those who are dead when the curtain falls, never come to life again. so much for montenegro. we returned after a run to trebinje, serajevo and mostar, to the dalmatian coast and trieste. first impressions are vivid. there is a certain interest in the fact that i recorded spalato in my diary as the first slav town on our way south from trieste and that my letter thence was dated spljet, the slav form of the name. the one pre-eminently italian town of dalmatia is zara. from zara south, the language becomes more and more slav. but the slav speaking peasants that flock to market are by no means the same in physical type as the south slavs of the bosnian hinterland. it is obvious that they are of other blood. they are known as morlachs, that is sea vlachs, and historically are in all probability descendants of the pre-slav native population which, together with the roman colonists, fled coast ward before the inrush of the slav invaders of the seventh century. latin culture clung along the coast and was reinforced later by the venetians. and a latin dialect was spoken until recent times, dying out on the island of veglio at the end of the nineteenth century. the slavizing process which has steadily gone on is due, partly to natural pressure coastward of the slav masses of the hinterland and partly to artificial means. austria, who ever since the break-up of the holy roman empire, had recognized italy as a possible danger, had mitigated this by drawing italy into the triple alliance. but she was well aware that fear of france, not love of austria, made italy take this step. therefore to reduce the danger of a strong italia irredenta on the east of adria she encouraged atavism against italianism, regarding the ignorant and incoherent slavs as less dangerous than the industrious and scientific italians. similarly, england decided that the half-barbarous russians were less likely to be commercial rivals than the industrious and scientific germans, and sided with russia. future historians will judge the wisdom of these decisions. during the fourteen years in which i went up and down the coast, the slavizing process in dalmatia visibly progressed, until the german-austrians began to realize that they were "warming a viper," and to feel nervous. almost yearly there were more zones in which no photographs might be taken and more forts were built. having picked up the thread of the balkans the next thing was to learn a balkan language, for in 1900 scarcely a soul in montenegro spoke aught but serb. nor was any dictionary of the language to be bought at cetinje. the one bookshop of montenegro was carefully supervised by the prince, who saw to it that the people should read nothing likely to disturb their ideas, and the literature obtainable was mainly old national ballads and the poetical works of the prince and his father, grand voy voda mirko. in london in 1900 it was nearly impossible to find a teacher of serb, and a new testament from the bible society was the only book available. finally a pole--a political refugee from russia and a student of all slav languages--undertook to teach me. english he knew none, and but little german and had been but a few weeks in england. i asked for his first impressions. his reply was unexpected. what surprised him most was that the english thought russia a great power and were even afraid of her. i explained that russia was a monster ready to spring on our indian frontier--that she possessed untold wealth and countless hordes. he laughed scornfully. in halting german he said "russia is nothing--nothing. the wealth is underground. they have not the sense to get it. their army is large, but it is rotten. all russia is rotten. if there is a war the russian army will be--will be--" he stammered for a word--"will be like this!" he snatched up a piece of waste paper, crumpled it and flung it contemptuously into the waste paper basket. i never forgot the gesture. later, when folk foretold japan's certain defeat if she tackled the monster, and in 1914 talked crazily of "the russian steam-roller" i saw only that crumpled rag of paper flying into the basket. by that time i had seen too much of the slav to trust him in any capacity. but this is anticipating. chapter two montenegro and her rulers in days of old the priest was king, obedient to his nod, man rushed to slay his brother man as sacrifice to god. the events seen by the casual traveller are meaningless if he knows not what went before. they are mere sentences from the middle of a book he has not read. before going further we must therefore tell briefly of montenegro's past. it is indeed a key to many of the near eastern problems, for here in little, we see the century-old "pull devil-pull baker" tug between austria and russia, teuton and slav, for dominion. in 1900, montenegro, which was about the size of yorkshire, consisted of some thirty plemena or tribes. a small core, mainly cetinaajes, nyegushi, rijeka and kchevo formed old montenegro. to this was added the brda group, which joined montenegro voluntarily in the eighteenth century, in order to fight against the turks. these are mainly of albanian blood and were all roman catholics at the time of their annexation, but have since been converted to the orthodox church and slavized. it is noteworthy that they are now strenuously resisting annexation by serbia. thirdly, came the extensive lands, some of them wholly albanian, annexed to montenegro in 1878 under the treaty of berlin, much of which, in spite of the efforts of the montenegrin government, is by no means slavized. certain other small districts have also from time to time been joined to montenegro at different times, e.g. grahovo. each of the montenegrin tribes has a distinct tradition of origin from an individual or family. they tell almost invariably of immigration into their present site in the fifteenth or sixteenth century. thus nyegushi in 1905 told me of descent from two brothers jerak and raiko, who fled from nyegushi in the herzegovina fourteen generations ago. the royal family, the petrovitches, traces descent from jerak. if we take thirty years as a generation this gives us 1485. the turks had then begun to overrun bosnia and the herzegovina. ivan tsrnoievitch, chief of the tribes of the zeta, was so hard pressed by the oncoming turks that he burnt his capital of zhablyak and withdrew to the mountains, where he founded cetinje in 1484. tradition thus corresponds closely with historic fact. the strength of turkish influence is shown by the fact that even to-day the peasant speaks of ivan as ivan beg. the oft-repeated tale that montenegro was founded by the refugees from kosovo is thus we see mythical, as kosovo was fought a century earlier in 1389. lineally, the montenegrins are bosnians, herzegovinians and albanians rather than serbs of serbia. bosnia and the herzegovina were independent of the old kingdom of serbia, which explains much of the reluctance of montenegro to be to-day incorporated by the serbs. ivan and his refugee tribes successfully resisted the turkish attacks on their stronghold and were helped by venice. but conversions to islam became frequent. one of ivan's own sons turned turk and fought against montenegro. finally, the last of the trsnoievitch line, ivan ii, who had married a venetian wife, decided that the leadership of a band of outlaws in the poverty-stricken mountains was not good enough. he retired to the fleshpots of venice, trusting the defence of the district to a civil, hereditary leader and charging the vladika [bishop] with the duty of preventing ore of his flock going over to islam, as the serbs of bosnia were now doing in great numbers. it has been inaccurately represented that montenegro was singular in being ruled by her bishop. in this respect montenegro in no way differed from other christian districts ruled by the turks who, with a tolerance at that date rare, recognized everywhere the religion of the country and entrusted all the affairs of the christians to their own ecclesiastics. to the turks, the montenegrin tribes and the albanian tribes of the mountains--who had also their own bishops --were but insubordinate tribes against whom they sent punitive expeditions when taxes were in arrears and raids became intolerable. the montenegrins descended from their natural fortress and plundered the fat flocks of the plain lands. they existed mainly by brigandage as their sheep-stealing ballads tell, and the history of raid and punitive expedition is much like that of our indian frontier. till 1696 the vladikas were chosen according to the usual methods of the orthodox church. after that date they were, with one exception, members of the petrovitch family. this has been vaguely accounted for by saying that to prevent quarrels the montenegrins decided to make the post hereditary in the petrovitch family. as the vladika was celibate, his successor had to be chosen from among members of his family. later events, however, throw much light on this alleged interference with the rules of the orthodox church. in june, 1696, danilo petrovitch, of nyegushi, who, be it noted, was already in holy orders, was chosen as vladika. a man of well-known courage such as the country needed, he accepted office, but was not consecrated till 1700. till then the vladikas of montenegro had been consecrated by the serb patriarch at ipek. but in 1680 arsenius the patriarch had decided to accept the protection of austria and emigrated to karlovatz with most of his flock. the turns of fortune's wheel are odd. the serbs have more than once owed almost their existence to austrian intervention. the turks permitted the appointment of another serb patriarch, but serb influence in the district waned rapidly and the albanians rapidly resettled the lands from which their forefathers had been evicted. in 1769 the phanariotes suppressed the serb patriarchate altogether, for the greek was ever greedy of spreading over the whole peninsula, and the vladika of montenegro was thus the only head of a serb church in the balkans and gained much in importance. danilo was a born ruler. he soon absorbed all the temporal power, and latterly left matters ecclesiastic to his nephew sava. the outstanding feature of his rule was his suppression of mahommedanism. at this time conversions to islam were increasing. danilo, when on a visit to the plain of podgoritza, to consecrate a small church by permission of the pasha of scutari, was taken prisoner by the local moslems, though he had been promised safe conduct, and put up to ransom. he was bought off only by the sacrifice of the church plate of the monastery, and returned home hot with anger. to avenge the insult and clear the land of islam he organized the wholesale massacre of the moslems of montenegro. on christmas eve 1703 an armed band, led by the martinovitches, rushed from house to house slaughtering all who refused baptism. next morning the murderers came to the church, says the song: "their arms were bloody to the shoulders." danilo, flushed with joy, cried: "dear god we thank thee for all things!" a thanksgiving was held and a feast followed. danilo thus gained extraordinary popularity. such is the fame of his christmas eve that it was enthusiastically quoted to me in the balkan war of 1912-13 as an example to be followed, and baptisms were enforced with hideous cruelty. the balkan christian of to-day is no whit less cruel than the turk and is more fanatical. danilo's prestige after this massacre was so great that the tribes of the brda formed a defensive alliance with him against the turks. and his fame flew further, for russia, now for the first time, appeared in montenegro. peter the great sent his envoy miloradovitch to cetinje in 1711--a date of very great importance, for from it begins modern balkan policy and the power of the petrovitches. peter claimed the montenegrins as of one blood and one faith with russia and called on them to fight the turk and meet him at constantinople where they would together "glorify the slav name; destroy the brood of the agas and build up temples to the true faith." the montenegrins rushed to the fray with wild enthusiasm and on the high ground between rijeka and podgoritza won the battle called "the field of the sultan's felling," such was the number of turks who, entangled in the thorn bushes, were slaughtered wholesale, as the montenegrin driver recounts to this day when he passes the spot. a great victory--but russia and montenegro have not yet met at constantinople. the turks sent a strong punitive force and, not for the first time, burnt the monastery at cetinje, wasted the land and doubtless removed enough gear to pay the haratch [tax] which danilo had refused. 1715 is noteworthy as the date of danilo's visit to petersburg, when he was given the first of the many subsidies which the tsars have bestowed till recently upon the petrovitch family. in a land which is rat-poor, the family which has wealth has power. the petrovitches had gained power and they kept it. fighting almost till the last, danilo died full of years and fame, in 1735, and named his nephew sava, who had acted for some time as ecclesiastical head, as his successor. sava had no ambition to be aught but a churchman. he built the monastery of stanjevitch and retired to it, leaving his nephew vassili to govern. vassili, who was already in holy orders, had much of the quality of danilo. he organized the defence of the land and defeated more than one attack upon it. montenegro was now largely fighting against the moslem serbs of bosnia and the herzegovina. in fact the "turk" with whom the balkan christian waged war was as often as not his compatriot, turned moslem. vassili and sava further strengthened their alliance with russia by visiting petersburg, where the empress elizabeth promised them a yearly subsidy of 3,000 roubles and money for schools. vassili died in russia in 1766 and sava was left to manage alone. he was quite unfit and his post was usurped by a remarkable imposter who appeared suddenly in montenegro and said he was peter iii of russia, who had been murdered in 1706. russia was a name to conjure with. he thrilled the credulous tribesmen with tales of his escape and adventures. in the words of an old ballad: "he is known as stefan the little. the nation turns to him as a child to its father. they have dismissed their headmen, their serdars, knezhes and voyvodas. all eyes turn to him and hail him as tsar." sava returned to his monastery and the imposter reigned. even the patriarch of ipek who was on the verge of dismissal, cried for the protection of stefan mali, who set to work to govern with great energy. venice, alarmed by his popularity, joined with the turks and attacked montenegro, but was repulsed. russia, seeing her influence waning with the departed sava, sent an envoy to denounce the impostor. but "nothing succeeds like success." stefan mali had such a hold over the ignorant tribesmen that russia, seeing sava was useless, recognized stefan as ruler. he reigned five more years and was murdered in 1774 by, it was said, an agent of the pasha of scutari. he is believed to have been of humble bosnia origin and was one of the few successful impostors of history. sava had perforce to return to the world, and owing to his incapacity the post of civil governor of montenegro now became important. the office, till now held always by a vukotitch, had meant little save the leadership of tribal soviets or councils. the vukotitches exchanged the office with the radonitches for that of serdar, and under the title of gubernator the first radonitch rose to power. this is a very important period for now for the first time austria appears on the scene and the long diplomatic struggle with russia for power in montenegro begins. in 1779 an appeal to the emperor of austria was sent, signed by ivan radonitch, gubernator; ivan petrovitch, serdar; and lastly by petar petrovitch, archimandrite and deputy-metropolitan. from which we must conclude that sava had definitely retired from power. from this date for several years ivan radonitch always signed first. he had just returned from a fruitless trip to russia, and was seeking help from austria. sava died in 1783 and was succeeded by vladika plamenatz, a fact which, though well known in montenegro, is rigidly excluded from her official history by the petrovitches, whose version, the only "authorized" one, is constructed with more regard to the glory of their dynasty than historic truth. on sava's death the radonitch party at once welcomed the first austrian mission to montenegro and accommodated it in sava's monastery. one of the envoys has left a vivid picture of montenegro in those days. "the nation has no police, no laws. a kind of equality reigns. the headmen have only a certain authority for managing ordinary business and settling blood-feuds. the father of radonitch was the first to whom the nation gave the title gubernator in order to gain the respect of the venetians and turks. the gubernator summons the serdars, voyvodas and knezhes. they meet in the open air. the general assembly takes place at the village of cetinje. . . . the vladika, or at least a couple of monks, are present. the serdars similarly call local meetings of headmen and thus arrange peace between two families or villages. their power consists only of persuasion. in practice murder is usually avenged by murder. the land has one metropolitan, the vladika, in whose eparchy are included ipek, kroja and dalmatia spiritually, for the consecration of priests, he being, since the removal of the patriarch of ipek, the next archbishop. but the foreign priests obey him in no respect save for consecration. his functions consist in the consecration of priests and churches. he visits the parishes but not so much for pastoral duties as for the collection of the so-called milostina, the alms which form his payment. the monks too collect on their own behalf. the people who are very superstitious, fast rigorously and give willingly to the clergy. their terror of excommunication makes them regard their bishops as the highest and most respected in the land. radonitch's father, first gubernator, tried to obtain the highest position for himself but failed. his son now tries to, and would succeed, were he cleverer and had more money, for the metropolitan plamenatz is little respected and could not do much to prevent him. the metropolitans have been used to visit petersburg from time to time and to receive a subsidy for the church and gifts in money and in the form of costly vestments for themselves. from which gifts, say the people, they receive no benefit. since 1779 no russian money has been received. the feelings of the country have consequently grown cold. people here obey only so long as they gain by so doing." we now come upon the first notice of the development of the great serbian idea, as a definite political plan in montenegro. the austrian envoy writes: "the following which was told me by a montenegrin monk is worthy of further consideration. a little while after the russian war was ended in 1773 a plan was made by the metropolitan and some monks to reconstruct the old serbian kingdom and to include in it besides bulgaria, serbia, upper albania, dalmatia and bosnia, also the banat of karlstadt and slavonia. the turks in all the provinces were to be fallen upon at a given moment by the schismatics, and it was also resolved that all foreign officers should be cleared out of all lands within the imperial frontiers. the late orthodox bishop jaksitch of karlstadt is said to have agreed and carried on a correspondence with the metropolitan of montenegro by means of priests. . . . though the carrying out of such a plan is very difficult, yet the project should not be left out of consideration." the petrovitch ambition to form and rule over great serbia was thus, we see, actually elaborated long before serbia had obtained independence and before the karageorgevitches had even been heard of. this explains much that has since happened. further the envoy replies to the question: whether or not montenegro can be considered independent?--thus: "from the frontier drawn by the venetians with the turks it follows that montenegro belongs to the turks. the nation does not deny that it has been twice conquered by the turks, who, each time, destroyed cetinje and the monastery, where some turks even settled, but were driven out. in 1768 they were forced to pay tribute by the vezir of bosnia. the montenegrins on the plains, in fact, pay tribute. the katunska and rijeka nahias alone have paid no tribute since 1768. these facts show montenegro belongs to the porte. "the montenegrins on the contrary maintain that they have never recognized turkish rule, and never paid tribute save when forced by overpowering numbers; that they do not recognize the assigning of their nahias to the pashas of spuzh and scutari; that they have chosen a gubernator whose title has not been disputed; that they rule themselves without turkish interference. in truth, however, the apparent independence of the land depends as much on its mountainous character as on the courage of the inhabitants. the difficulties of the land make it more trouble than it is worth." the country is described as completely lawless. blood feuds rage between rival families and in seven months a hundred men have been killed in vengeance. over this wild group of tribes russia and austria now struggled for influence. in 1782 ivan radonitch went for seven months to vienna. montenegro could not (and cannot) possibly exist without foreign aid. and he sought it. but the emperor joseph ii decided that to organize montenegro as an ally "would, in peace, be costly and in war of insufficient use." he withdrew the mission but, to retain montenegro's goodwill, allotted a small annual subsidy of which 500 ducats were to go to radonitch, and but 150 to vladika plamenatz. russia, however, would not let montenegro slip from her grasp. in may, 1788, a russian envoy arrived and began countermining austria. austria retorted by sending another envoy, who reports complete anarchy and ceaseless inter-tribal fighting: "some were with us; some sought to destroy us; some fought the turks; some were in alliance with them. they have a bishop, governor and serdar, but these are mere names. people obey only if they can gain by so doing. we even heard a common man say to the bishop's face: 'holy bishop, you lie like a hound! i will cut out your heart on the point of my knife.' except that they keep the fasts they have no religion. they rob, steal, and have many wives. some sell women and girls to the turks and commit other crimes as one hears daily. all is done with the animal impulse of desire, or hatred, or selfishness. the inhabitants are used to raid neighbourlands for cattle, etc., and are even led by their priests on these expeditions which they think heroic." this vivid account will be recognized as the truth by all who have lived in native huts and listened to local tradition. it describes the life of the balkan christian up till recent days. my montenegrin guide used to lament the good old times when a second wife could be taken and no fuss made; and when as many as fifteen men were shot in a feud; and his great uncle had commanded a pirate ship which plied between the adriatic and the aegean. there is nothing new under the sun. in 1788, as in the twentieth century, we find the rival powers trying to buy partisans. "we never could satisfy them," says the austrian envoy. "when we thought we had won him with one gift, we found next day he had joined the opposition party or demanded a new gift as if he had not had one. even the bishop, though he tried by all means to win our favour, could not hide from us his false intriguing heart." the struggle was brief. russia was victorious. vladika plamenatz disappeared suddenly, and the petrovitches came again to the fore. vladika petar's name headed all official documents, the gubernator fell to second rank, and the blood-feud between the plamenatzes and the petrovitches compelled some of the former to seek shelter with the turks. russia has never permitted a pro-austrian to rule long in slav lands. witness the-fate of the obrenovitches, in serbia. vladika petar was a strong man, which is probably why he obtained russian support. he drove his unruly team with much success and won its respect. russia and austria came to one of their many "understandings" and in 1788 declared war together on the turk with the expressed intention of ending the sultan's rule. both encouraged the montenegrins to harry the turkish borders. the austrian envoy, however, distrusted the montenegrins and wrote: "very much more can we rely on the faith and courage of the catholic albanians of the brda, the very numerous bijelopavlitchi, piperi, kuchi, vasojevitchi, klementi, hoti, etc., who could muster 20,000 very outrageous fighters whom the sultan fears more than he does the montenegrins." a passage of great interest, for to-day many of these albanian tribes, having fallen under montenegrin rule, have been completely slavized and have 'joined the orthodox church. some of these tribes did support austria, were left in the lurch by her when she made peace in 1791, and were punished by the turks. part of the klementi dared not return home and settled in hungary, where their descendants still live. montenegro was mentioned in the treaty of sistova merely as a rebellious turkish province, but vladika petar had gained much power, for the brda tribes now definitely accepted him as their head and the tsutsi and bijelitch tribes emigrated into montenegro from the herzegovina and were given land. the turks forcibly opposed the union of the brda with montenegro, but could not prevent it, and in the fight the pasha of scutari was killed. his head, on a stake, for long adorned the tower at cetinje. a hard blow was now struck at montenegro. the venetians in 1797 ceded the bocche di cattaro to austria. till then the frontier had been vague. the vladika was spiritual head of the bocchese and the montenegrins considered them as part of themselves. the new frontier caused much wrath. russia hurried to support the vladika. austria strove in vain for influence. her envoy wrote in 1798, "the gubernator sees his authority daily weakening while that of the vladika increases." he says the frontier must be fixed "so as to force this horde of brigands to remain within the frontiers which they cross only to molest his majesty's subjects and make them victims of brigandage. the metropolitan and the gubernator have given no satisfaction to the complaints daily addressed to them." no. they did not. for they had a strong backing. up hurried a special envoy of the tsar with rich gifts for the vladika, who received him with a salute of guns, and further insulted austria by hoisting the russian flag over the monastery. "devil and baker" had both pulled. which won? i leave that to the reader. russia was now ruling power in montenegro. when napoleon's troops appeared in the near east the montenegrins joined the russian forces and attacked the french at ragusa where their ferocity horrified even the hardened soldiers of napoleon. a ragusan gave me her grandfather's account of the yelling horde of savage mountaineers who rushed into battle with the decapitated heads of their foes dangling from their necks and belts, sparing no one, pillaging and destroying, and enraging the russian officers by rushing home so soon as they had secured booty worth carrying off. in considering the near east of to-day it should never be forgotten that but a century ago much of the population was as wild as the red indians of the same date. the french held the bocche di cattaro some years during which the vladika, as russia's ally, flatly refused to come to terms with them. and in 1813, so soon as napoleon's defeat became known vladika petar and vuko radonitch, the new gubernator, summoned the tribesmen, swooped down on cattaro, stormed the trinity fort and captured budua. a short-lived triumph. russia, wishing peace with austria and having no further use for montenegro, ordered the vladika to yield his newly conquered lands and they were formally allotted to austria by treaty. during these years the resurrection of serbia was taking place. in this montenegro was unable to take active part, being more than enough occupied with her own affairs. but the vladika himself sang karageorge's heroism and tried to send a force to his aid. vladika petar i died in 1830. he left montenegro larger and stronger than he found it, for he had worked hard to unite the ever-quarrelling tribes by establishing laws to suppress blood-feuds. inability to cohere is ever the curse of slav lands. only a strong autocrat has as yet welded them. petar earned the fame he bears in the land. his body is to this day deeply reverenced by the superstitious mountaineers. some years after burial it was found to have been miraculously preserved from decay and he was thereupon canonized under the name of st. petar cetinski. when dying he nominated as his successor his nephew rada, then a lad not yet in holy orders, and made his chiefs swear to support him. such an irregular proceeding as appointing a youth of seventeen to an archbishopric could hardly have been carried out, even in the balkans, had it not been for the terror of a dead man's curse--a thing still dreaded in the land. and also for the fact that rada's election had the support too of vuko radonitch the gubernator. vuko hoped doubtless to obtain the upper hand over such a young rival. rada, with no further training, was at once consecrated as vladika petar ii by the bishop of prizren and this strange consecration was confirmed later at petersburg, whither the young petrovitch duly went. russia has all along consistently furthered her influence and plans in the balkans by planting suitable bishops as political agents. russia was now powerful in montenegro. a russian officer led the clans a-raiding into turkey and returned with so many decapitated heads to adorn cetinje, that the tsar thought fit to protest. the tug between austria and russia continued. vuko, the gubernator, and his party, finding the youthful archbishop taking the upper hand with russian aid, entered into negotiations with austria. the plot was, however, detected. vuko fled to austria. his brother was assassinated; the family house at nyegushi was burnt down and the family exiled. russia would tolerate no influence but her own and had begun in fact the same policy she afterwards developed in serbia. from that date--1832--the office of gubernator was abolished. imitation is the sincerest flattery. the petrovitches began to model themselves on their patrons, the tsars, and strove for absolutism. petar ii ranks high as author and poet. he further organized the laws against the blood-feuds which were sapping the strength of the nation and ingeniously ordered a murderer to be shot by a party made up of one man from each tribe. as the relatives of the dead man could not possibly avenge themselves on every tribe in the land the murder-sequence had perforce to end. to reconcile public opinion to this form of punishment he permitted the condemned man to run for his life. if the firing party missed him, he was pardoned. the point gained was that the murder became the affair of the central government, not of the local one. petar also did much to start education in the land. he died before he was forty of tuberculosis, in 1851, one of the early victims of the disease which shortly afterwards began to ravage montenegro and has killed many petrovitches. he named as his successor his nephew danilo. danilo's accession is a turning point in montenegrin history. he at once stated that he did not wish to enter holy orders and would accept temporal power only. he was, in fact, about to marry a lady who was an austrian slav. for this, the consent of russia had to be obtained, for till now it was through the church that russia had ruled in montenegro. she had ever--with the sole exception of the usurper stefan mali--supported the vladika against the gubernator. this office was, however, now abolished. there had been difficulty more than once about transmitting the ruling power from uncle to nephew. russia decided that she could obtain a yet firmer hold of the land if she established a directly hereditary dynasty. danilo was proclaimed prince and ecclesiastical affairs alone were to be administered by the bishop. the sultan who had accepted the rule of the bishop in montenegro as in other christian districts, protested against the recognition of an hereditary prince and at once attacked montenegro, which was saved by the diplomatic intervention of both russia and austria, neither of whom wished its destruction. peace was made and danilo formally recognized. he was never popular. he had received his title from russia, but his sympathies leaned towards austria. and he offended both russia and his montenegrins by refusing to take part in the crimean war, to the wrath of the tribes who saw in it a fine opportunity for harrying their foes of the border. attempts to enforce law and order provoked hostility among the recently annexed tribes of the brda who, though they had voluntarily joined montenegro as opposed to the turks, refused flatly to pay taxes. danilo put down this rising with great severity and gained the hatred of the revolted tribes. but even with enforced taxation danilo was short of funds. russia, angry at his failure to aid her, stood aside. danilo begged of austria and austria refused. montenegro could not and cannot live without foreign support. the french--now so active again in balkan intrigue--came in and tried to detach danilo from their then enemy russia, by offering him a subsidy and certain concessions from the sultan if he would accept turkish suzerainty. there ensued a quarrel between the russian agent in cetinje, b. m. medakovitch, and danilo over this. medakovitch was danilo's private secretary. "i lived in friendship and harmony with prince danilo," he says, "until he said to me, 'i know you wish the montenegrins well and highly value their liberty. but it cannot be as you wish. we must recognize the turks in order to obtain more money.' we might have remained friends but foreign intrigues crept in. ... enemies of our faith and name denounced me as the "friend" of russia. my faith and blood are dear to me. but i have always kept in view the good of the nation and followed the course which ever led to the fortune of montenegro. ... i would not agree that montenegro's glory should be denied in accordance with the wishes of the french consul at scutari, who in especial is trying to destroy the power of montenegro." (history repeats itself. the french now, 1920, are aiming at montenegro's destruction.) "i opposed turkish rule . . . but the headmen sided with prince danilo and favoured the wish of the french consul. they were ready to accept the turk as lord. only i and prince george petrovitch opposed them." the quarrel was heightened by the fact that tsar nikola i, when he died in 1855, bequeathed 5,000 ducats to montenegro, but stipulated they were to be used for charitable purposes under russian control. danilo was enraged by this as he wanted the cash himself. medakovitch refused to give it him. "he regards as his friend him who gives him gold," says a contemporary; "who gives naught is his arch-enemy." danilo continued negotiating with france, and medakovitch carried the 5,000 ducats out of the country to the russian consul-general at ragusa. danilo formed a crafty plan. he sent two cunning agents to ragusa to pretend to the russian that montenegro was in a state of unrest, and that they could overthrow danilo and re-establish russian influence if they could have the 5,000 ducats. to what more laudable end could they be expended? but the russian was a yet more wily fox and the plan failed. danilo then hurried to paris to discuss matters and while he was absent george petrovitch led a rising against him, instigated doubtless by medakovitch. danilo hastily returned to montenegro and according to a contemporary account a reign of terror followed. he feared every popular man: "thus it is that a series of executions without trial or formal accusation has gone on for months without it being possible to see when this terrible state of things will end. persons who to-day are the prince's favourites are to-morrow corpses. his commands, his threats and his gold obtain for him false oaths and false documents." a fierce blood-feud which lasted in effect till a few years ago, arose between him and the gjurashkovitches. marko gjurashkovitch, one of the richest and handsomest of the headmen, dared, during the prince's absence in france, to marry the widow of pero petrovitch, whom danilo had meant to bestow on his favourite petar vukotitch. danilo therefore bribed heavily gligor milanovitch the arambasha of a brigand band, who accused marko gjurashkovitch and another of a treasonable plot against danilo's life. the two were at once arrested and executed in spite of their protestations of innocence. the gjurashkovitches fled into turkish territory where the two still held official posts under the turkish government till 1912. danilo found his scheme for accepting turkish suzerainty now so unpopular that he dropped it and the turks consequently at once attacked montenegro. the land was saved by the valour of danilo's brother, grand voyvoda mirko, whose exploits are still sung by the peasants. a great battle was fought at grahovo. the retreat of the turkish army was cut off and the whole was slaughtered or captured. the prisoners, according to montenegrin custom, were hideously mutilated and the british report of them as they passed corfu on their return struck horror in europe. by this victory montenegro gained more land, but owed it to the valour of mirko rather than to danilo. danilo's best work was the codification and reformation of the unwritten law of the land. code danilo is rude enough, but an advance upon the laws of vladika petar. it was printed in italian as well as serb. italian, till the beginning of the present century, was the only foreign tongue that had made any way in montenegro. when danilo had refused the spiritual headship of the land and had chosen marriage, the superstitious foretold that no good would come of this and that no heir of his body would succeed him. the prophecy came true. he was assassinated in the summer of 1860 on the shore of the bocche di cattaro, and left but two daughters. the assassin, a montenegrin, was arrested and executed and died without giving any explanation of his deed. it has been ascribed both to austria and russia--but was far more probably an act of private vengeance. danilo was succeeded by nikola i the present king of montenegro, son of voyvoda mirko. two main points stand clear from this brief sketch. (1) that the history of montenegro, as that of all the balkan peoples, is but a part of the gigantic racial struggle of slav and teuton for command of the near east. the slav ever pressing southward and westward, the teuton standing as a bulwark for west europe and holding back the advancing hordes. the one non-slavonic lace in this group, the albanian (with the exception of a few catholic tribes) consistently struggles also against the slav peril and sides with its opponents. (2) it is also markedly a struggle for the supremacy of the orthodox church. for with the exception of montenegro's fights against the armies of the pasha of scutari and his albanians, the enemy of montenegro was always the moslem serbs of bosnia and the herzegovina, people, that is, who racially and linguistically and by custom are identical with the montenegrins. montenegro's history continued on precisely the same lines under nikola i, until slavonic and teutonic rivalry culminated in the colossal struggle which began in august 1914. of all the petrovitches nikola is one of the most remarkable. the last of the mediaeval chieftains of europe--a survival from a past age--he is an epitome of the good and bad qualities of his race. in common with that of other half-wild races the montenegrin mind is credulous and child-like and at the same time crafty and cunning. with a very limited outlook, the balkan politician is wont to spend infinite ingenuity in outwitting a rival in order to gain some petty advantage, and meanwhile to lose sight entirely of the larger issues. prince nikola, better equipped by a western education than any of his forerunners, rapidly gained a strong hold over his ignorant subjects and in the great game of near eastern politics was second only to abdul hamid at ruse and intrigue. from the very first he had but one ambition--the reconstruction of the great serbian empire with the petrovitches as the reigning dynasty. he lived for it and he did all possible to foster it in the minds of his people. he enforced the wearing of the national cap, invented by vladika petar ii. each child was taught that his cap's red crown was blood that had to be avenged. for each tribe he wrote a kolo song to be danced to at festive gatherings, to stimulate nationalism. and for the whole country he wrote that most popular national song: onward, onward, let me see prizren, for it is mine--i shall come to my home! the throne and the castle of tsar dushan at prizren became a national obsession. and to ensure the obedience of the soviet of headmen he appointed his redoubtable father voyvoda mirko as president and chose the members himself. he was but nineteen at the time of his accession and married almost at once, milena, daughter of voyvoda vukotitch of the fighting tribe of kchevo, to whom he had been affianced in childhood, as was then customary. their reign began stormily. the turks thirsting to avenge grahovo attacked montenegro on three sides. voyvoda mirko led his son's forces and the montenegrins defended themselves desperately, but were so severely outnumbered that only the intervention of the powers saved them. so much was mirko dreaded that the turks made it one of their peace terms that he must leave the country. this term was, however,' not fulfilled and the sturdy old savage remained in montenegro till the day of his death, steadily opposing all western and modern ideas, especially the making of a carriage road into the country; and ever composing and singing to the gusle songs of battle and border fray, which, though devoid of literary merit, give an invaluable picture of the savagery of the land in the middle of the nineteenth century. old mirko died of the great cholera epidemic which swept montenegro, and prince nikola was then free to introduce new visages into the land. balanced perilously between austria and russia he managed to keep on good terms with both, but his sympathies were russian. to russia he turned for help to organize an army. till then each tribe had fought according to its own ideas. montenegro had no artillery and no equipment save flintlocks and the hand jar, the heavy knife used for decapitation. in petersburg he was warmly received by tsar alexander ii, who gave him funds both for schools and the army. a small-arms factory was started at rijeka and a gun foundry near cetinje. weapons were bought from france and preparations made for the next campaign. you cannot talk to king nikola long without learning that war, successful war, filled all his mind. conquest and great serbia were the stars of his heaven and of that of his people. border frays enough took place and when, in 1875, the herzegovinians broke into open revolt the montenegrins rushed to their aid. nikola, commanded by the powers to keep the peace, declared he could not restrain the tribesmen. local tradition which is possibly correct states that his efforts to do so were not strenuous. in june 1876 prince milan of serbia declared war on turkey. prince nikola, who had already refused to acknowledge milan as leader of the serb peoples and regarded him with jealous eyes, thereupon declared war next day. the great serbian idea was already causing rivalry. nikola fought and won his first battle at vuchidol. montenegrin arms were successful everywhere--penetrated far into the herzegovina; took podgoritza, nikshitch and antivari. when the victorious russians drew up the treaty of san stefano at the very gates of constantinople prince nikola, "the tsar's only friend," received liberal treatment, and serbia, suspected of austrian leanings, but scant recognition. the treaty of berlin reversed this. england was especially anti-russian and, represented by lord beaconsfield and lord salisbury, insisted on entrusting the bulk of montenegro's conquests in the herzegovina to austrian administration. "the tsar's only friend" was regarded with suspicion. montenegro was unfortunately compensated mainly with albanian territory. it was a great injustice. the albanians had made just as stubborn a fight for their nationality as had the montenegrins, and had never lost local autonomy. they resisted violently and prevented montenegro from occupying either plava, gusinje or tuzi. the powers tried to make up by an even worse act of injustice. mr. gladstone, having little or no personal experience of the orthodox church, was possessed of an extraordinary admiration for it, and, filled with the erroneous idea that every moslem was a turk, he was in favour of giving dulcigno, a wholly albanian town, to montenegro in place of the other three. it was a peculiarly unjust and cruel decision. even in the days of the serb kings dulcigno had kept its autonomy and at one time coined its own money. all old travellers state the spoken language was albanian. the montenegrins could not take it and had no claim to it. a naval demonstration of the powers forced it to surrender, perhaps one of the biggest acts of bullying of which the powers have as yet been guilty. albanian dulcigno was handed over to its hereditary foe. the strength of its purely albanian nature is shown by the fact that whereas in nikshitch, podgoritza, and spuzh the moslems, serbs and albanians, were stripped of all their property and expelled wholesale to starve as very many did--the montenegrins did not dare interfere with the large and hostile population of dulcigno and have in no way succeeded in slavizing it: the dulcigniotes still ask for re-union with albania. montenegro was recognized by the treaty of berlin for the first time as an independent principality, and serbia, in 1880, was raised to a kingdom. to prince nikola and his montenegrins who had refused to recognize prince milan as leader of the serb nation this was a most bitter pill. rivalry between the two branches of the serb race was intensified. prince nikola strove by a remarkable series of marriages to unite himself to any and all of the powers by means of his numerous offspring. russia being his "only friend" he aspired to marry one of his elder daughters to the tsarivitch. but the poor girl who was being educated for the purpose in russia, died young. two other daughters he however successfully married to the grand duke nikola nikolaievitch and the grand duke peter. with great serbia in view, and on bad terms with the obrenovitches of serbia, he married his daughter zorka in 1883 to petar karageorgevitch, the exiled claimant to the serbian throne. having thus married his elder children to russian and serb he then turned to the triple alliance and married helena to the crown prince of italy, thus securing an ally, as he hoped, across the adriatic; and his heir prince danilo to the daughter of the grand duke of mecklenburg strelitz. for his daughter anna he selected prince joseph battenburg. "how do you think this young man will do as prince of macedonia?" he once cheerfully asked mr. bouchier, to prince joseph's embarrassment. lastly, in order to have claim on serbia whichever way the political cat hopped, he married prince mirko to natalie constantinovitch, cousin to alexander obrenovitch of serbia. all that prince nikola could do to conquer europe by "peaceful penetration" he certainly did. two daughters remained: princesses xenia and vera. popular report had it that one was destined for bulgaria and the other for greece, and there was much disappointment when the princes of those lands made other choice. nor i fear are either ladies likely now to mount thrones. one error of judgment which has largely helped to thwart prince nikola's hopes is the fact that, alarmed lest foreign luxury should make his sons discontented with their stony fatherland, he would not send them abroad to be educated. they were taught at home by a tutor who was an able man enough, but the future ruler of even a tiny realm needs a wider experience and training. he further made the fatal mistake of bringing them up as princes apart from the people, whereas he himself had played with village children. as a result they grew up with exaggerated ideas of their own importance, devoid of discipline and ignorant of all things most needful for a successful ruler in a poor land. they had all the vices of princes and none of their virtues. it was a tragic error with tragic consequences. nikola came to the throne as a mediaeval chieftain in a yet mediaeval land. to succeed in his ambitions, and he was then amply justified in believing that he would succeed, it was needful to train up a successor fit to rule in the twentieth century. the gates of time were of a sudden flung open. in the space of a few years something like five centuries poured over the land. nikola stood on the rocks with his sons hoping to escape the devastating torrent. but there was no way of escape. they must swim with the stream of time--or drown. nor does it now seem likely that one of his immediate descendants will ever rule great serbia. they failed to take the "tide in the affairs of men" and their golden dream has been swept, into the never-never land. it is bitter tragedy to end life as a failure. chapter three. first impressions of land and people in 1901 i visited montenegro and went down the lake to scutari. scutari captured me at once. it had colour, life, art. its people were friendly and industrious and did not spend all their time drinking rakia and swaggering up and down the street as at cetinje. there was something very human about them and of all things i wanted to go into the albanian mountains. but our consul there was but just arrived. he consulted his austrian colleague and as austria was then keeping the mountains as its own preserve, he replied, emphatically, that the journey was impossible for me. no particular political crisis was happening, but there were rumours of a certain kastrioti in paris who claimed descent from the great skenderbeg and his possible arrival as prince of albania roused a certain excitement in albanian breasts. hopes of independence were already spoken of in hushed whispers. in montenegro great serbia was the talk, and i was shewn crude prints of the heroes of old, on many a cottage wall. and some flashlights on montenegrin character showed vividly the different mentality of the balkans. the new british vice-consul for scutari came up to cetinje on business, for the british minister had left owing to ill-health. the montenegrins did not like the new vice-consul and seriously consulted me as to the possibility of having him exchanged for another. i was extremely surprised. "but why do you not like him?" i asked. "because he does not like us," was the confident reply. "but he has only been here a week," i urged. "how can he know yet whether he likes you or not? in any case what does it matter. it is not necessary to like a consul." "but yes!" came the horrified reply. "how is it not necessary? one must either love or hate!" one must either love or hate. there is no medium. it was dushan gregovitch that spoke. lazar mioushkovitch flashed the next beam on the national character. some tourists arrived and, at the lunch table, talked with lazar. one was a clergyman. he told how canon mccoll during the turko-russian war of 1877 had reported having seen severed heads on poles, and how all england, including punch, had jeered at him for thinking such a thing possible in europe in the nineteenth century. mioushkovitch was sadly puzzled. "but how, i ask you, could he fail to see severed heads in a war? the cutting off of heads in fact--i see nothing remarkable in that!" then, seeing the expression of the reverend gentleman's face, he added quickly: "but when it comes to teaching the children to stick cigarettes in the mouths--there i agree with you, it is a bit too strong!" (c'est un peu fort ca!) there was a sudden silence. the near east had, in fact, momentarily undraped itself. last came the days when we daily expected to hear that the queen of italy had given birth to a son and heir. a gun was made ready to fire twenty-one shots. candles were prepared to light in every window. the flags waited to be unfurled. we all sat at lunch in the hotel. the door flew open and a perianik (royal guard) entered. he spoke a few words to monsieur piguet, the prince's tutor. piguet excused himself and left the room. after some interval he returned, heaved a heavy sigh, and in a voice of deep depression, said to the diplomatic table: eh bien messieurs --nous avons une fille! it was appalling. no one in montenegro, it would appear, had thought such a catastrophe even possible. to the montenegrin the birth of a daughter was a misfortune. "you feed your son for yourself. you feed your daughter for another man." faced with this mediaeval point of view the diplomatic circle was struck dumb. till the british consul said bravely: "i don't care what the etiquette is! i won't condole with him." and the tension was relieved. no guns were fired, no candles lighted. cetinje tried to look as though nothing at all had happened. one member of the round table at this time needs mention. count louis voynovitch from ragusa was staying in cetinje to draw up a new code of laws. this clever adventurer was looked on with some jealousy by the montenegrins and much favoured by the royal family whom he amused with anecdotes and jokes. it was said he was to be permanently minister of justice, but he left montenegro rather suddenly over, it was said, a cherchez la femme affair. he then went to bulgaria as tutor, i believe, to the young princes, and afterwards held a post in serbia. and he returned again to montenegro and represented montenegro at the ambassadors conference in london during the balkan war of 1912-13. he was reputed to be deep dipped in every intrigue of the balkans and in jugoslavia we may some day hear of him again. nothing else now worth recording occurred in my 1901 holiday. next year was a full one. chapter four. serbia and the way there "the wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the righteous is bold as a lion." twice had i visited montenegro and had heard much of great serbia. of the past as seen by serb eyes i read in any number of cheap pink and blue ballad books. as for the present, big montenegrins in the most decorative national dress in europe, swaggered up and down the main street of cetinje, consumed unlimited black coffee and rakia and discussed the glorious days when all serbs should again be united under gospodar nikita. but that they were taking any active steps to create this earthly paradise i had then no idea. my 1902 holiday was due. i decided to go further afield and see serbia itself, but to go first to montenegro where i might obtain information and introductions. no one in england could tell me anything and only one recent book on the subject could be found. this was of no consequence for the real joy of travel begins with the plunge into the unknown and in 1902 it was still possible to find this joy in europe. from whittaker's almanac i learnt that all passports must be visaed at the serbian legation and thither i hastened. i had never travelled without a passport, for accidents may always happen and even so near home as paris identity papers may be useful. but i had never before sought a special visa. light-heartedly, therefore, i rang the legation bell and cheerfully offered the youth, who admitted me, the passport with a request for a visa. he told me to wait; and wait i did until--though not quite new to the near east i began to wonder what overwhelming world-politics were detaining the serbian minister. persons peeped at me cautiously through the half-open door and darted back when i looked round. finally, i was summoned into m. militchevitch's presence. stiffly he asked why i wanted to go to serbia. my reply, that having visited montenegro i now proposed seeing other serb lands, did not please him at all. i made things worse by enlarging on my montenegrin experiences for i had no idea then of the fact that there is nothing one slav state hates so much as another slav state, and truly thought to please him. he persisted in wanting "definite information." "what do you want to do there?" "travel and sketch and photograph and collect curios." he suggested sternly that there were other lands in europe where all this could be done. his attitude was incomprehensible to me, who then knew foreign lands only as places which received tourists with open arms and hotels gaping for guests. he, on the other hand, found me quite as incomprehensible for, like many another balkan man, he could conceive of no travel without a political object. and i was quite unaware that the murders upon which great serbia was to be built were even then being plotted. point-blank, i asked, "is travelling in serbia so very dangerous then?" the shot told. "not at all!" said he hastily. "then why may i not go?" after more argle-bargle he consented to give me the visa on condition i went straight to the british consul at belgrade and did nothing without his advice. he signed, remarking that he took no responsibility. i paid and left triumphant, all unaware of the hornet's nest i was now free to enter. of serb politics i knew at that time little beyond the fact that king alexander was unpopular owing to an unfortunate marriage and the still more unfortunate attempt of queen draga to plant a false heir upon the country by pretending pregnancy; that his father's career had been melodramatic and that the history of serbia for the whole period of her independence had been one long blood-feud between the rival dynasties of karageorge and obrenovitch, neither of which seemed popular in montenegro. off i went to cetinje and told various people my plan for seeing serbia. rather to my surprise no one offered me introductions, but having been repeatedly told that the montenegrins were the cream of the serb nation, and would lead serbia to glory i believed that the mere mention of montenegro and my acquaintance with it would suffice to assure me a welcome. near the door of the monastery of cetinje is the grave of one of the karageorgevitches and the priest who showed it me told that the families petrovitch and karageorgevitch had been on very friendly terms. prince nikola had married his daughter zorka to petar karageorgevitch, the rival claimant to the serbian throne, in 1883; that the young couple had lived in cetinje and their three children were born there; but that, after zorka's death in 1890, father-in-law and son-in-law had fallen out badly about money matters and petar had been seen no more in montenegro. the fact that the present crown prince alexander of serbia was born in cetinje is of some interest now, when he is attempting to seize his grandfather's throne--but more of this later. in 1902 it was still undreamed of. only count bollati, then italian minister to montenegro, took any active interest in my plans. le bon dieu, he said, "has created you expressly to travel in the balkans." he loathed cetinje and explained he had accepted it only as one degree better than buenos ayres because nearer to rome. "nothing bites you," he continued; "everything bites me. your method of seeing lands is undoubtedly the best, but i am satisfied with what i see from the windows of the best hotel." nor, unfortunately, was count bollati in any way unique in his tastes a fact which may have affected the politics of europe. he had held a diplomatic post in belgrade and was very curious to know how i should fare. "sooner you than i!" he laughed, and meanwhile sketched me a route through the chief towns and told me his first experience in the land. it was at a court ball, given by the gay and dashing king milan. the salon was awhirl with dancers when-click--something fell to the ground near the count's feet. a lady's jewel doubtless. he stooped and picked up a revolver cartridge. laughing, he showed it to an aide-de-camp near him, who saw no joke in the matter and referred it to king milan, who turned white and looked gravely anxious. and bollati for the first time realized the balkans. before i left cetinje it was officially announced that the marriage of prince mirko (prince nikola's second son) with mademoiselle natalie constantinovitch had been fixed for july 12 o.s. (1902), and the faire parts were sent to the corps diplomatique. the bride was cousin to king alexander obrenovitch who had no direct heir. failing one, she was one of the nearest relations to the obrenovitch dynasty. the astute prince nikola, having married a daughter to the karageorge claimant to the throne, now strove to make assurance doubly sure by marrying a son to a possible rival candidate. my diary notes though: "it seems there has been a lot of bother about it and that it was nearly 'off' as papa constantinovitch required mirko to put down a considerable amount in florins. and mirko could not produce them. i suppose he has now borrowed on his expectation of the serbian throne. which is, i imagine, his only asset." i confess that at this time i did not know the balkans and saw all these doings humorously, as a comic operetta. but the comic operas of the balkans are written in blood and what was then fun to me was to end in a world tragedy. my route to belgrade was by boat to fiume and thence by rail via agram. on the boat i picked up a croatian lady and her daughter, who moped miserably in the hot and stuffy cabin till they ventured to ask my permission to sit with me on deck. "you are english, so the men will not dare annoy us," they said, "if we are with you." only english women, they declared, could travel as i did. the mere idea of a journey in serbia terrified them and they assured me it was quite impossible. and the cheap hotel in agram, to which they recommended me, was of the same opinion. the company there assured me that king alexander was drinking himself to death, and were loud in their expression of contempt for land and people. in those days union between croatia and serbia was possible only if croatia swallowed serbia. and not very long after i was in agram riots took place in which the serbs of the town were attacked and plundered. as the train lumbered over the plains north of the save, on the way to belgrade, my fellow travellers, too, thought i was bound on a mad and impossible errand. as is usual in the near east they all cross-examined me about my private affairs with boring persistency, and their verdict was that not even a british passport would see me through. "you will never see serbia," they declared. i did though. for, being wholly innocent of any plots, all the efforts of all the multitudinous police of serbia failed to turn me from my plan. "the wicked flee when no man pursueth, but the righteous is as bold as a lion." the train thundered over the iron bridge at night and deposited me in belgrade. i had to give up my passport and my troubles began. i had come to see serbia, and finally saw the whole of it and have described it in another book. but for obvious reasons i did not then recount all that befell me; i did not even understand it all. looking back on that tour i can only wonder at the dogged persistence with which i overcame all the obstacles which the serb police put in my way. short of forbidding me to travel they did all they could. in accordance with my promise to m. militchevitch, "to do nothing without consulting the british consul," i went to the consulate, where i found a nice young man, who had but recently arrived and seemed to know nothing whatever about the country. he was playing with a dachsdog and told me cheerfully i could go anywhere i liked "and none of them will dare touch you." but he warned me that it would be very expensive as carriages were two pounds a day. i suggested mildly that the land being a poor one this could not possibly be the regular charge, but that people sometimes had to pay extra for the privilege of being british consul; which apparently he had never thought of. it proved correct though. serbia in those days was the cheapest spot in europe. never again in all probability will the peasant be so well off. but before starting up country i meant to see belgrade, and began by asking at the hotel where the king was to be seen. for a king, in 1902 at any rate, was still an object of interest, and one of the "show sights" of most european countries. the waiter replied "you want to see our king? you won't see him. he dares not come out of the konak. he is probably drunk." nor in fact during the time i spent in belgrade did he ever come out. in belgrade the first thing i learnt was that i was "shadowed" by the police. to the uninitiated this is most uncanny. the same man keeps turning up. he does it very badly as a rule. you sit and have coffee on one side of a street and he sits and drinks beer at the restaurant opposite. you wander on and think: "what an ass i was to think he was following me!" and meet him at the next corner. most disquieting of all perhaps is to come suddenly out of your bedroom and almost tumble over him in the corridor. all these and more were my experiences in the first weeks of my tour. and always i said to myself in triumph: "they can't do anything to me for i have not done anything." i could not even buy a railway ticket for a day's outing without being cross-examined as to my purpose, my father, my uncles and other relatives. the officials in vain assured me that there was nothing to see in the place i wished to visit. i played the card which had succeeded with militchevitch and asked if it were dangerous. i could not enter a village without being at once asked by the local policeman for my passport. blankly ignorant of what was behind these proceedings i steadily pursued my way, smiling at all questions and supplying at demand long biographies of various members of my family. no; my father had not been in the diplomatic service, nor my uncles, nor brothers, nor cousins. no; none of them were officers. "i have come to see serbia," said i, in return to the enquiry of a police officer. "but what do you see?" he asked, gazing wildly round. "i see nothing!" every official i think in every village, saw my sketch book, demanded an explanation of why i had selected such things as wells, gravestones, carts and cottages to draw, and remained mystified. for the common objects of serbia were of no interest to them. i merely looked on all these vagaries as so many peculiar and silly serbian customs--wondered what the serbs would do if a hundred or so tourists appeared, for then there would not be enough police to go round--and did not allow myself to be ruffled even when three times in one day i had to show my passport to individuals who pounced down on me in the street. when i arrived at the' least bad hotel in nish the hotelier said he did not wish to be mixed up in the affair; gave me the worst room in the house and told me i had better leave by the first train next morning. i said i was going to stay and did. and explored nish conscious of "guardian angels" at my heels. but it was here that i realized that there was something sinister in the background, for so suspicious were the hotel people that when, for two days i was seriously unwell, not one of them would come in answer to my bell but an old woman, who flatly refused to bring me anything and never turned up again. i lived on brand's beef lozenges till i was well enough on the evening of the second day to crawl downstairs and bribe a waiter to fetch me some milk. once recovered i went to pirot by rail in spite of pressing requests that i would return to belgrade. i wanted to see the pirot carpet factories, but of course no one believed this. they all imagined, as i learnt later, that i was bound for bulgaria with evil intentions: messages from montenegro for the undoing of serbia. i was quite unaware at the time that prince ferdinand and prince nikola were plotting together. arrived at pirot it was obvious that i was considered dangerous. i was stopped in the station by police and military authorities, who had doubtless been warned of my arrival, and told that i was not to go near the bulgar frontier, much less cross it. only after some argument did they consent to let me stay two days in the town. then i was to leave for belgrade by the early morning train, and to make sure that i could not escape by any other route, they confiscated my passport and said it should be returned to me at the station when i left. tension between serbia and bulgaria was obviously extreme. by way of warning, i was told that a bulgar spy had just been caught and was in prison. but i had come to see the carpet making and i saw it. the carpets are very interesting. they are made in no other part of serbia and are in truth bulgarian in origin. pirot before its annexation to serbia in 1878 was an undoubtedly bulgar district. old books of travel call nish bulgar. in pirot a distinctly bulgar cast of countenance and build is to be seen. and the neighbouring peasants play the bagpipe, the typical bulgar instrument. the type extends not only into the south of serbia (of 1902), but in the east spreads over the timok. the population along the frontier and around zaitchar i found bulgar and roumanian, the flat-faced, heavily built bulgar with high cheekbones and lank black hair predominating--all being serbized, of course. having seen the carpet making at pirot, i obediently appeared at the railway station at the appointed time as bidden. suddenly, the whole atmosphere changed. the same officials who had received me so inimically now wanted me to stay! having first worn my quite respectable supply of patience almost threadbare, the serbs turned right round and did all they could to efface first impressions. the whole thing seemed to me childish and astonishing. but i profited largely by it and went the rest of my way in comparative comfort. by this time i had learnt that serbia was in a state of intense political tension, and that my ingenuous statement that i had come straight from cetinje had gone badly against me. stupid officials asked me so many leading questions that they revealed far more than they had learnt and showed me quite clearly that a plot to put prince mirko on the throne of serbia at no distant date, was believed to exist. that most wily of royal stud-grooms, prince nikola, had so married his family that he undoubtedly believed that "what he lost on the roundabouts he would gain on the swings," and that his position as head of great serbia was assured. having heard so much of the petrovitches as the natural lords of great serbia, this plan did not seem to me so unreasonable. but i soon found it had very little support in serbia. only in the extreme south--at ivanjitza, studenitza and thereabouts did i find montenegro at all popular. elsewhere it was looked on with jealousy and suspicion. the montenegrins, folk said, were incurably lazy and very dirty, and their immigration into the country was not desired. some montenegrin students came to the serbian schools, but were denounced as ungrateful and impossible. a montenegrin, i was told, was a lout who would sit all day on the doorstep wearing a revolver and doing nothing, and would expect high pay or at least good keep for so doing. in 1898 the serb government had actually forbidden the immigration of montenegrins. in brief, it was clear serbia would not accept a montenegrin prince at any price, and mirko's chances were nil. montenegro was despised. bulgaria was hated--was the enemy, always had been and always would be. but even after i had been accepted by the country strange things still happened. at kraljevo there was almost a fight over me between the nachelnik (mayor) who ordered me to leave next day, and a man to whom i had been given a letter of introduction. he said i should stay: the other that i was to go, and they shouted at each other till both were scarlet. when mentioning this later to a company of serbs they asked "what was the name of the man you had an introduction to?" i gave it. they exchanged glances. "that family was in trouble formerly about the murder of prince michel" was all that was said. he was in point of fact a partisan of the karageorgevitch family. and the mayor was a pro-obrenovitch. at kragujevatz i fell right into the karageorgevitch party. that i met them in strength in kragujevatz is now a matter of interest. at the time i little dreamed that from this straggling big village--it could hardly be called a town--would emanate bombs that would set europe on fire. the royal arsenal is at kragujevatz, and when i was there in 1902 the place was certainly a centre of disaffection. it was here that i was told outright that alexander must either divorce draga--or go. what was to follow was uncertain. they wished, if possible, to avoid a revolution. i was even begged to work a propaganda in favour of petar karageorgevitch in england. above all to write to the times, and my informants said they trusted to my honour not to betray their names. had i pursued the subject i have now little doubt that i might have learnt much more and even have got in touch with the leaders of the movement--if indeed i had not already fallen into their hands! but it was my first contact with a plot of any kind and i instinctively recoiled from having anything to do with it. it is almost impossible for those who have led a peaceful life to realize that real human blood is going to be shed. the thing sounded more like melodrama than real life. but it was definitely stated that "something was going to happen" and that i should watch the papers and see at no distant date. my new acquaintances were vexed that i should have$ been so harassed in the early stages of my journey, but oddly enough ascribed it not to the folly of their own officials, but to the fact that the british consul had not given me letters of introduction! "if your own consul will not guarantee you, of course it seems suspicious!" this remark alone is enough to show the abyss that separated serbia from west europe. politics in the near east are an obsession--a nervous disease which may end in acute dementia and homicidal mania. having decided to confide in me, folk then began pouring out disgusting tales about queen draga. so disgusting that i soon cut all tales short so soon as her name occurred. nor is it now necessary to rake up old muck-heaps. one point though is of interest. among many races all over the world there is a widespread belief that sexual immorality, whether in the form of adultery or incest will inevitably entail most serious consequences not only upon the guilty parties, but upon the community as a whole, and even menace the existence of a whole people. thebes, for example, suffered blight and pestilence owing to the incest of oedipus. i found it widely believed in serbia that before marrying alexander, draga had been his father's mistress and was told emphatically that the marriage must bring a curse. serbia could never flourish while she was on the throne. it is highly probable that though the subsequent murders were arranged and carried out for a definite political purpose by an organized gang, they were acquiesced in by the ignorant mass for the above reason--a genuine belief that there was a curse on the land that would be removed only by draga's death. the country, i was told, was in a terrible state. none of the officers had been paid for six months. draga, it was said, took all the money to buy diamonds. the wretched woman's little collection of jewellery which was sold at christie's after her death, proved, however, the falsity of this tale. but it doubtless accounted partly for the unbridled ferocity with which the military gang fell upon her. that there was not enough money to pay them seemed to me not surprising, for the land swarmed with officers. i was told that in proportion to its size there were more officers in serbia than in germany and noted in my diary at the time "the whole land seems eaten out of house and home with officers who seem to have nothing on earth to do but play cards. it is a great pity for the country. as soon as the peasants learn a little i expect they will turn socialist." an army is an expensive luxury and "satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do" is a true saying. serbia has paid dearly for the lot of swankers, clad in most unnecessarily expensive uniforms, whom i saw gambling in the cafes from morning till night. all these points are noteworthy in the light of the present. one other may yet strongly influence the future of the serb race. that is their religious fanaticism, which then surprised me. it was not astonishing that the serbs hated islam, but that they should fiercely hate every other christian church i did not expect. it is but one more instance of the fact that it was largely to the fanaticism of the orthodox church that the balkan people owed their conquest by the turks. evidence enough there is to show that when their fate was in the balance the orthodox of the balkans regarded the turk as a lesser evil than the pope. even in 1902, though a few mosques were still permitted to exist, no catholic church was tolerated save that attached to one of the legations over which, of course, the serb government had no control. most of the foreign women i met, who had married serbs, told me frankly that for the sake of peace they had had to join the orthodox church; "you cannot live here unless you do." the american missionaries who have done so much for bulgaria and were permitted to work freely under the tolerant turk, were only allowed to travel through serbia on condition they held no services. i was astonished at the intense bitterness with which the ex-queen natalie's conversion to rome was spoken of. as the poor woman had led a wretched life in serbia and had left it for ever, her religion could be no concern whatever now of the serbs. but it seemed to be considered on all sides as an insult to the nation. nor was it, so far as i could see, because the people were devout believers--the upper classes certainly did not appear to be--but because the church was serbian, and represented a frenzied and intolerant nationalism. to such an extent was this carried out that a catholic albanian, of whom i subsequently saw a good deal, had to add "itch" to the end of his name and conform to the orthodox church outwardly in order to obtain leave to open a shop in belgrade. that frenzied nationalism and not religion is at the base of this intolerance is further proved by hatred of the serb for the bulgarian church, which on all points of dogma and doctrine and in its services is precisely the same as that of the serbs. and this same frenzied nationalism, if persisted in, may yet lead to serbia's undoing. on looking back i see that my tour in serbia was a turning point in my balkan studies. till then the balkans had been a happy hunting ground filled by picturesque and amusing people, in which to collect tales, sketch and forget home miseries for a time in a quite new world. i left serbia with very mixed feelings. much of the tour i had enjoyed. after the police difficulties of the beginning i had met with great hospitality and much kindness and it is always a pleasure to penetrate an unknown land, ride through great forests and see the new view open at the top of the pass. when the belgrade police visaed my passport for the last time they bade me a friendly farewell. but i was severely disillusioned as to great serbia. instead of brethren pining to be united, i had found a mass of dark intrigue--darker than i then knew--envy, hatred and all uncharitableness. no love was lost between serb and montenegrin. alexander was to divorce his wife or go. "something" would happen soon. and i knew that if prince mirko really aspired to the throne of serbia he would be disappointed--no matter which way the cat hopped. the balkans were in future to be to me a sphinx--an asker of ceaseless riddles each of which led to one yet more complicated; riddles which it took long to solve. the riddle of my strange reception in serbia was not explained until four years afterwards. and the tale fits in rightly here. it was militchevitch who told me--he who had signed my passport in the spring of 1902. i did not see him again till 1907. "i have been reading your book," he said. "i wondered if you had noticed what happened. i see you did at once." "noticed what!" i asked. "that from the time you left pirot you were differently treated." he laughed. "now it is all over long ago you may as well know. you have no idea the excitement you caused. the serbian government spent a small fortune in cypher telegrams about you." and he told this astonishing tale: among the banished members of the karageorgevitch family was a certain woman who came to england and studied at an english college. she wore her hair short. when therefore i arrived at belgrade, as ignorant as any babe of the dark undercurrent of politics, the serbian police at once leapt to the conclusion that i was the lady in question come on a political errand. my passport bothered them as they could find no flaw in it. it was arranged to keep me under supervision and militchevitch was at once telegraphed to. what did he know about the so-called englishwoman whose passport he had signed? he could only reply "nothing." followed an angry telegram asking what business he had to sign the passports of people of whom he knew nothing, and that in fact he had let one of the karageorgevitch gang get into the country, who was about to be arrested. much alarmed, he replied that he was under the impression i was certainly english, and that it would be rash in the highest degree to arrest me without further evidence. they then did all they could to prevent my tour, short of forbidding it. my imperturbable persistence thwarted them. telegrams flew backwards and forwards. london to belgrade, belgrade to london. militchevitch was ordered to make enquiries about me of the police, who knew nothing at all about me, which surprised him. he ascertained, however, that persons of my name actually lived at the address i had given and were locally of good repute. he implored that my arrest--which was imminent--should be delayed lest international complications ensued. why the serb authorities did not impart their doubts to the british consulate in belgrade must remain a balkan mystery. instead of doing so the serb police replied, "we are having her followed everywhere. the names of all she speaks to are noted. she goes everywhere. she talks to any one who will talk to her. she draws all kinds of things for what purpose we cannot ascertain. she speaks serbian very badly, but it is evident she does so on purpose and that she understands everything." my arrest was almost decided on, when some one had a brilliant idea. a photograph of the suspected serbian lady was somehow obtained in england and militchevitch was then able to swear that it had no resemblance to the englishwoman whose passport he had signed. serbia was saved--that time! i was then in pirot. orders at once flew over the country that the treatment should be at once reversed and that the unpleasant impression that had been produced should be, as far as possible, obliterated. the episode gives a clear idea of the state of nervous tension that existed. the sublime folly of the serbian police consisted in thinking that if i were really an agent of prince mirko, bringing messages and intending to take them on to sofia i should have been such a fool as to tell every one i met that i had just come from cetinje. but perhaps they judged others by themselves. the semi-oriental mind is born to suspicion and can conceive of no straightforward action. in truth "dora" hails from the near east. is not her very name of greek origin? to me it was a useful experience for it hardened me to being "shadowed," and i bore it serenely ever afterwards. so much so in fact that when in 1915 at marseilles i was twice cross-examined by the french intelligence officers and three times and very minutely, by the english ones, i thought it funny, which surprised them. they would have been still more surprised had i told them that they reminded me of the police of belgrade, and asked them why they were called "intelligence." their efforts were as vain as those of their serb forerunners and for the same reason. i had no plots to reveal. chapter five. what was behind it all it is a strange desire to seeke power and to lose libertie. . . . the standing is slippery, and the regresse is either a downefall, or at least an eclipse. which is a melancholy thing.--bacon. i went to serbia as a tourist, but, thanks to the misdirected energy of the serb police, was made aware for the first time of the unseen forces which were at work in the balkans. what these forces were we must now consider. since the end of the seventeenth century russia and austria had competed for expansion into the balkans. each had gone to war nominally, "to free christians from the turkish yoke," but actually in order to annex these populations themselves. each, by promoting risings in turkish territory and by financing rival balkan sovereigns, had silently and ceaselessly worked towards the same goal. in the great game montenegro, as we have seen, hall been russia's pawn since the days when peter the great sent his envoy to vladika danilo. montenegro had become russia's outpost in the west. russia was montenegro's god--and her paymaster. "the dog barks for him that feeds him!" says an albanian proverb. montenegro barked, and bit too, at russia's behest. serbia throughout the nineteenth century was rent by the ceaseless blood-feud between the karageorgevitches and the obrenovitches, a history bloody as that of the turkish sultans, the results of which are not yet over--one that has so largely influenced the fate of yet unborn generations that we must understand its outlines in order to follow modern events. serbia, at the end of the eighteenth century, was bitterly oppressed, not so much by the turkish government, as by the jannisaries, the insolent and all powerful military organization which had broken loose from restraint and was now a danger to the turkish empire. the jannisaries actually elected their own chiefs and were semi-independent. and of all the jannisaries of the empire none were more opposed to the sultan than those of belgrade. their commanders called themselves dahis and aimed at complete government of the province. it is a singular fact, and one which should be emphasized, that the jannisaries were themselves to a very large extent, of balkan origin. their ancestors had been either forcibly converted or had, as was not infrequent, voluntarily adopted islam. the moslem serb was a far greater persecutor of the christian serb than was the turk. we find that the leading dahis of belgrade hailed from focha in the herzegovina. sultan selim in, terrified of the growing power of these jannisaries, sided with his christian subjects, sent troops against them, and forcibly evicted them from belgrade. a turkish pasha, hadji mustafa, was appointed as governor, whose rule was so just and beneficent that the land was soon at peace and the grateful serbs called him "srpska majka"--the serbian mother. but the jannisaries had retired only as far as widin which was commanded by the brigand leader pasvanoglu, whose savage hordes were devastating the country-side in defiance of the government. together they attacked the serbs. hadji mustafa, true to his trust, organized the serbs to resist. the serbs were now by no means untrained to war, for many had served in the austrian army during the late campaigns against the turks. but the spectacle of a turkish pasha inciting christian rayah against an army of moslems aroused the wrath of the faithful throughout the empire. they demanded the deposition of hadji mustafa and the re-admission of the jannisaries to belgrade. the sultan was unable to resist and the jannisaries returned. thirsting to avenge the humiliation of their forced retirement they assassinated hadji mustafa, seized power, and to prevent a further serb rising, fell upon the serb villages and murdered numbers of the headmen. by so doing they precipitated what they wished to prevent. the serbs rose in mass and called karageorge, grandfather of the present king peter of serbia, to be their leader. he refused at first, saying that his violent temper would cause him to kill without taking council first. but he was told that the times called for violence. born of peasant stock about 1765, his upbringing was crudely savage; his ferocity was shown from the first. in 1787 a panic seized the peasants when an austrian attack upon the turks was expected. to save themselves and their flocks from the approaching turkish army they fled in crowds, hurrying to cross the save and finding safety in austria. george's father was very reluctant to go, and on reaching the river would not cross it. george, in a blind fury, refusing either to stay himself and make terms with the turks, or to leave his father behind, snatched the pistol from his sash and shot the old man down. then, shouting to a comrade to give his father a death-blow, for he was still writhing, george hurried on, leaving behind him a few cattle to pay for the burial and the funeral feast. on his return later to serbia he took to the mountains for some time as a heyduk or brigand. such was the man called on to lead the serbs. rough and completely uneducated, he yet possessed that strange power of influencing men which constitutes a born leader. his practice as a heyduk and a natural capacity for strategy enabled him for long to wage successful guerrilla warfare, which baffled the turks. the dense forests and the roadless mountains were natural fortresses of which he made full use. alternating with astonishing outbursts of energy and ferocity, were periods of sullen silence during which he sat for days without speaking, gnawing his nails. that there was a strain of insanity in his genius appears certain--an insanity which has reappeared in his great-grandson and namesake who, subject to similar fits of loss of control, used to terrorise the populace by galloping furiously through village streets, and was finally forced to abdicate his right to the throne in march 1909, after the brutal murder of his valet. a case worth the study of students of heredity. a contemporary of old karageorge thus describes him: "his bold forehead bound with a tress of black hair gave him a look rather asiatic than european. . . . this man was one of the bold creations of wild countries and troublous times--beings of impetuous courage, iron strength, original talent and doubtful morality." the might of his personality overcame all obstacles. he appealed to russia for aid, and a russian minister was sent to serbia along with money and men. he freed and ruled over a large tract of land. but his rule was not much milder than that of the jannisaries, and his harsh tyranny made him many enemies. when his wrath was once aroused it was unrestrainable, and he struck down and killed many of his own followers. discontent arose and spread. the serbs divided into many parties, each with rival leaders. russia, who had supported karageorge, was now herself engaged in a life and death struggle with napoleon. the russian regiment which had been quartered at belgrade, left the country. the turn of the turks had now come. they attacked the serbs in force. with no aid from without to be hoped for, the country was in greater danger than ever. but even common danger, as history has again and again shown, does not suffice to cure that fatal slav weakness--the tendency to split into rival parties led by jealous chieftains. there was no union among the serb forces now, at the very hour when it was most needed. and for some never explained reason karageorge failed to appear. his voyvodas struggled with the foe and were beaten back and suddenly, in october 1813, karageorge, the chosen leader of the serbian people, fled into austria with a few followers, without even having struck a blow. this tragic and most fatal failure was due in all probability, to a mental collapse to which his unstable and unbalanced nature would be peculiarly liable. the austrians promptly interned both him and his men in fortresses, but released them at the intercession of russia, and they retired into bessarabia. meanwhile, his place was taken by milosh obrenovitch, also a peasant, who led the serb rising of 1815 with such success that he was recognized as ruler, under turkish suzerainty, of a considerable territory. and as a ruler, moreover, with hereditary rights. it is said that russia never forgave the obrenovitches that they were appointed by the sultan and not by herself. scarcely was milosh well established when karageorge returned from his long absence. the break-up of the turkish empire had begun. the greeks were in a ferment. russia supported them. the hetairia had been formed and a plan was afoot for a great simultaneous rising of greeks and serbs and roumanians. karageorge was to be one of its leaders. but milosh was in power, id did not mean to relinquish it. and he dreamed already of wide empire. he examined the question with sangfroid and decided that if the greek revolution succeeded in its hopes, an empire would be reborn in the east which would regard serbia as its province and might be more dangerous than the turk. did not the greeks, in the fourteenth century, call the turks to europe to fight the "tsar of macedonia who loves christ?" milosh remained faithful to the turk, saying "let us remain in turkey and profit by her mistakes." he suppressed all pro-greek action, executed twenty pro-greek conspirators, and exposed their bodies at the roadside, and--in an evil hour for serbia--had karageorge assassinated and sent his head to the pasha. from that day onward the feud between the two houses raged with ever increasing fury. until to-day every ruler of serbia has been either exiled, murdered, or has had his life attempted. "family tradition comes first" says vladan georgevitch. "all the families of serbia have, from the beginning, been followers of either the karageorgevitches or the obrenovitches." as time went on, the obrenovitches became the choice of austria, while russia supported the karageorges, and the puppets jigged as the great powers pulled the wires. milosh's subjects revolted against his intolerable tyranny and exiled him in 1839. his son michel succeeded him, a cultivated man who strove to introduce austrian educational methods. he was evicted in 1842, and the karageorges again swung into power. alexander, father of king petar, was put on the throne, only in his turn to be chased out in 1858. and old milosh came back and died in 1860 --fortunately for himself perhaps--for he was the same old milosh, and his renewed tyranny was again provoking wrath. serbia had now come to a parting of the ways. there was a prince of either line, and each had already occupied the throne. michel obrenovitch was re-elected. all agree that he was the most enlightened prince that had as yet occupied the throne, but the blood of old black george was unavenged, and michel paid the penalty. he and his cousin, madame constantinovitch, and his aide-de-camp were all assassinated on june 10, 1868, in the park near belgrade. so set were the murderers on fulfilling their task that they hacked their victim's body with forty wounds. the complicity of alexander karageorgevitch and his son petar--now king --was proved. the plot was engineered by means of alexander's lawyer, radovanovitch. the shkupstina hastily summoned demanded the extradition of the two karageorgevitches of austria, whither they had fled, and failing to obtain it outlawed them and all their house for ever and ever, and declared their property forfeit to the state. fifteen accomplices arrested in serbia were found guilty and executed with a barbarity which roused european indignation. we can scarcely doubt what would have been the fate of the two principals had they fallen into serb hands. the grotesque fact remains that it is to austria that king petar owes not only his crown, but his life! it was an odd fate that thirty years afterwards gave me an introduction to a relative of one of the conspirators, and almost caused a fight to take place over me at kraljevo. the karageorgevitches having been exiled by the unanimous vote of the shkupstina for ever--till next time--milan, cousin of the murdered michel, succeeded him on the throne at the age of fourteen. and there was a regency till 1872. milan was a handsome dashing fellow with not too much brain--a typical, boastful, immoral serb officer. as a result of the russo-turkish war of 1877, in which, however, he displayed little military skill, serbia was raised from a principality to a kingdom. russia at this time showed little or no interest in serbia. she was devoting all her energy and diplomacy to the creation of a big bulgaria, which should ultimately serve her as a land-bridge to the coveted constantinople. she had no use then for serbia, and was no friend of the obrenovitches, and in the treaty of san stefano dealt so scurvily by serbia that prince milan opposed the treaty and said he would defend nish against russian troops if necessary. at the berlin congress, milan called for and obtained a good deal more land than russia had allotted him--territory which was, in fact, bulgar and albanian. he, moreover, made a convention with austria by which the frontiers and dynasty of serbia were guaranteed. one of those many "scraps of paper" which fill the world's waste paper basket. it was now plain that milan, if allowed to gain more power, would be an obstacle to pan-slavism in the balkans. the claims of the disinherited and exiled petar karageorgevitch began to be talked of. nikola pashitch, hereafter to be connected with a long series of crimes, now appears on the scenes. of macedonian origin, he soon became one of russia's tools, and was leader of the so-called radical party, though "pro-russian" would be a more descriptive title. it was "radical" only in the sense that it was bent on rooting up any that opposed it. things began to move. in 1883 prince nikola married his daughter to petar karageorgevitch, and that same year a revolt in favour of petar broke out at the garrison town of zaitshar. oddly enough it was at zaitshar in 1902 that i was most pestered by the officers to declare whom i thought should ascend the serbian throne should alexander die childless. by that time i was wary and put them off by saying "the prince of wales!" i have often wondered how many of those suspicious and swaggering officers were among those who next year flung the yet palpitating bodies of alexander and draga from the konak windows while the russian minister looked on. the revolt of 1883 was quickly crushed and pashitch, along with some other conspirators, fled into bulgaria for protection. others were arrested in serbia and executed. the pro-russian movement was checked for a time. pashitch owed his life to bulgaria, and not on this occasion only. his subsequent conduct to that land has not been marked with gratitude. chapter six. the great serbian idea "oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive."--scott. the great serbian idea--the scheme for the reconstruction of tsar dushan's mediaeval empire--now began to sprout and germinate. in truth that empire had been constructed by dushan by means of mercenary armies, partly german, by aid of which he temporarily subdued bosnians, albanians, bulgars and greeks. and he paid those armies by means of the silver mines, worked largely by italians. great serbia was an incoherent mass of different and hostile races, and it broke to pieces immediately on his death. but five centuries of turkish rule in no way modified the hate which one balkan race bore for another. each, on gaining freedom, had but one idea--to overthrow and rule the other. milosh obrenovitch had already begun to toy with the great serbian idea when he refused to support the greeks in their struggle for freedom. the success of the wars of 1876-77 raised fresh ambitions. but now there were two possible heads for great serbia--milan obrenovitch, who had been raised to kingship, and who owed his position to austria; and nikola petrovitch, recognized as prince of an independent land, and "the only friend" of the tsar of all the russias. the bitter rivalry, not yet extinct, between the two branches of the serb race--serbia and montenegro--now began. one thing the serb people have never forgotten and that is that in dushan's reign bulgaria was serbia's vassal. the reconstruction simultaneously of big bulgaria and great serbia is impossible. and neither race has as yet admitted that a middle course is the safest. the zaitshar affair had shown king milan pretty clearly that the blood of the murdered karageorge still howled for vengeance. his position was further complicated by the fact that his beautiful russian wife, natalie, was an ardent supporter of the plans of her fatherland. he made a bold bid for popularity. filled with exaggerated ideas of his own prowess, and flushed by victories over the turks, he rushed to begin reconstructing great serbia by attacking bulgaria, which, though newly formed, had already shown signs of consolidating and becoming a stumbling block in serbia's path to glory. the declaration of war was immensely popular. had milan succeeded, the fate of the obrenovitches might have been very different. but he and his army were so badly beaten that only swift intervention by austria saved serbia from destruction. pashitch, it should be noted, remained in bulgaria during this war, and in fact owed his life to that country which he has since done so much to ruin. the pieces on the balkan chessboard then stood thus: a serbia which was the most bitter enemy of bulgaria and whose king was austrophile. a violently pro-russian montenegro, filled with contempt for the beaten serbs, and ruled by a prince who regarded himself confidently as the god-appointed restorer of great serbia, and who was openly supporting his new son-in-law, the rival claimant to the serb throne. the throne of serbia, never too stable, now rocked badly. king milan declared that pan-slavism was the enemy of serbia and he was certainly right. for in those days it would have simply meant complete domination by russia--the great predatory power whose maw has never yet been filled. he pardoned pashitch, thinking possibly it was better to come to terms with him than to have him plotting in an enemy country, pashitch returned as head of the radical party and serbia became a hot-bed of foul and unscrupulous intrigue into which we need not dig now. between the partisans of russia and austria, serbia was nearly torn in half. after incessant quarrels with his russian wife, milan in 1888 divorced her--more or less irregularly--and in the following year threw up the game and abdicated in favour of his only legitimate child, the ill-fated alexander who was then but fourteen. torn this way and that by his parents' quarrels, brought up in the notoriously corrupt court of belgrade and by nature, according to the accounts of those who knew him, of but poor mental calibre, alexander is, perhaps, to be as much pitied as blamed. his nerves, so mr. chedo miyatovitch told me, never recovered from the shock of a boating accident when young. he was the last and decadent scion of the obrenovitches and was marked down from his accession. vladan georgevitch, who was prime minister of serbia from 1897 till 1900, in his book the end of a dynasty, throws much light on the events that led up to the final catastrophe. it is highly significant that after its publication he was sentenced to six months' imprisonment, not for libel or false statements, but "on a charge of having acted injuriously to serbia by publishing state secrets." his account is therefore in all probability correct. he begins by relating prince alexander's visit to montenegro shortly after the termination of the regency. here the astute prince nikola tried to persuade him to marry princess xenia. princess zorka was dead; prince nikola had quarrelled rather badly with his son-in-law, petar karageorgevitch, and, it would appear, meant to lose no chance of obtaining a matrimonial alliance with any and every possible claimant to the serbian throne. alexander would not consent to the match, and stated that his object in visiting montenegro was to bring about a political alliance between that country and serbia in order to defend serb schools and churches in turkish territory and generally protect serb interests. this nikola refused unless the said lands were definitely partitioned into "spheres of interest" and prizren were included in his own. he was already determined to occupy the throne of stefan dushan. the two ministers who accompanied alexander supported this claim. "i tell you," says alexander, "these two men when with me at cetinje acted not as ministers of mine, but as ministers of the prince of montenegro." he denounced such a division of the territory and the negotiations broke off. the visit to montenegro was a failure. some years afterwards in montenegro i was told triumphantly that the match would not have been at all suitable for princess xenia and that her father had refused it on the grounds that "no king of serbia has yet died except by murder, or in exile." but the death of alexander was then already planned--though i of course did not know it--and alexander's version of the affair is more probably correct. in 1897 the nets began to close round the wretched youth. russia made up her long quarrel with bulgaria and enlisted a new foe to the obrenovitches--prince ferdinand. she had long refused to recognize this astute and capable prince who was rapidly raising bulgaria to an important position in the balkans, and now decided to make use of him. the benefits might be mutual, for without russian support ferdinand could not hope to reconstruct the big bulgaria of the middle ages. russia cynically used either bulgaria or serbia as best suited her purpose at the moment. in august of the same year russia further strengthened her position by her alliance with france, who at once obediently ranged herself against the obrenovitches. in the following october, alexander appointed vladan georgevitch prime minister, and bade him form a government. the merits or demerits of this government we need not trouble about. what is of interest is that it was at once attacked by the french press. the temps accused vladan of secret understandings with goluchowsky and kallay, before forming it. the courier de soir thought that "such a policy is the result of the triple alliance and is an offence to the balance of europe." serbia apparently was to be used as the determining weight on the european scales. la souverainte went farther and said boldly: "the moment has come when tsar nicholas should show the same firmness of character as his father showed to the battenburg and coburg in bulgaria!" the nova vremya declared "that the new government clearly meant to bring serbia into economic dependence on austria-hungary." and most of the newspapers of europe announced the fact that the tsar had granted an audience to prince petar karageorgevitch and had conversed with him on the critical state of serbia. vladan then recommended to alexander the rash plan of inviting general von der golte to xmdertake the reform of the serb army as he had done that of turkey. the plan pleased von der goltz, but was dropped in consequence of the violent anti-serb campaign which it aroused in the french press. the serb minister in paris, garashanin, tried to buy some of the french papers, but had to report to his government that this was impossible so long as serbia was hostile to russia. france was paying the russian piper--but it was the piper that called the tune. the russo-french policy of ringing in the central powers was already aimed at. the wretched alexander, not knowing whom to trust, nor where to turn, then begged his exiled father to return from austria and take command of the army. milan did so and russia was more than ever furious. warnings were now frequently received that russia was planning the deaths of both milan and alexander. one such warning was sent by the berlin foreign office. in may 1898 nikola pashitch, who had been working an anti-obrenovitch propaganda in bulgaria, was again in serbia, and led the radical party in the general elections. the government, however, won by a large majority. his work in bulgaria seems to have been effective for in june the serb minister to sofia sent in a very important report to his government: 1. that russia was determined that milan should leave serbia. 2. that prince ferdinand was willing to support russia in this way by any means--even bad ones. 3. that the princes of montenegro and bulgaria were co-operating. shortly afterwards ferdinand of bulgaria, nikola of montenegro, the russian minister and the bulgarian diplomatic agent to cetinje all met at abbazia. and ferdinand is reported to have promised nikola the support of his army to overthrow the obrenovitches with a view to finally uniting montenegro, serbia, bosnia and the herzegovina into one state with nikola as head. nikola began to sow the ground by starting a newspaper which attacked austrian policy in bosnia severely. this is a most important turning point in balkan history, and we shall see many results. mr. j. d. bourchier, whose knowledge of bulgarian affairs is unrivalled, has further told me that not only did montenegro and bulgaria work together for a long while, but bulgaria also supplied montenegro with much money--she was, in fact, another of the many states who have put money into montenegro--and lost it. things soon began to move. prince nikola got in touch with the radical party in serbia and they began to prepare the downfall of the obrenovitches. bulgaria refortified her serbian frontier. the narodni listy of prague described prince nikola as the only true serb upon a throne. king alexander proposed at this time to visit queen victoria, but was informed by lord salisbury that her majesty's health had already obliged her to decline other visits and she was therefore unable to receive him. the serb government then complained that queen victoria had conferred a high order on prince nikola, who was but a vassal of russia, and had given nothing to the king of serbia. some papers even declared she had shown preference to nikola precisely on account of his pro-russian tendencies. russia showed her feelings plainly. the tsar at a reception spoke sharply to the serbian minister and ignored the new serbian military attache who had come to be presented. tension between serbia and montenegro was now acute. large numbers of montenegrins had been emigrating into serbia attracted by the better livelihood to be obtained. the serb government in october 1898 formally notified montenegro that this immigration must cease. no more land was available for montenegrins. the magyar orsyagu went so far as to say "montenegrin agents wander over serbia with their propaganda and serbia has therefore forbidden the further settlement of montenegrins in serbia." pashitch again came to the fore and was sentenced to nine months' imprisonment for publishing an offensive letter to the ex-king milan. and in november a plot, alleged to be bulgaro-montenegrin, against milan, was discovered. russia was furious that milan, in spite of these warnings, remained in serbia. and in july 1899 he was fired at and slightly wounded. milan insisted on martial law being proclaimed and many arrests were made. the would-be assassin was a young bosnian--knezhevitch. the times spoke of the conspiracy as a russo-bulgarian one. it is stated to have been planned in bucarest by arsene karageorgevitch and a russian agent. pashitch, who since 1888 had been in close connection with the karageorges, was accused of complicity and milan insisted on his execution. his guilt was by no means proved and he was finally sentenced to five years' imprisonment, but at once pardoned by alexander. in reply he telegraphed, "i hasten in a moment so happy and so solemn for my family, to lay before your majesty my sincere and humble gratitude for the very great mercy which you, sire, have shown me from the height of your throne. i declare to you, sire, that i will, in future . . . give my whole soul to strengthening that order in the state which your majesty introduced in 1897, from which, thanks to your distinguished father, king milan, as commander-in-chief of the army, the country has derived so much benefit." he further promised to put the remainder of his life to the exclusive service of king alexander and his country, and ends with, "long live the hope of the serb nation, your majesty our lord and king alexander!" signed, "the most sincere and devoted servant of the house of obrenovitch and the throne of your majesty, nikola pashitch." this amazing telegram caused consternation in russia. and well it might. the annals of crime scarcely contain a more gross example of perjury. we now enter upon the last act of the sordid drama. for several years alexander had kept a mistress, madame draga maschin, nee lungevitza, the widow of a serbian officer. she was a handsome woman, considerably older than alexander, and possessed such a hold over him that the more credulous of the serbs--including an ex-minister to the court at st. james's--believed that she had bewitched him by means of a spell made by a gypsy woman who had chopped some of draga's hair fine and made a mixture which she put into alexander's food. only by magic, i have been assured, could such results have been obtained. alexander "was crazy about her." the serbs are not particular about morals by any means. but this liaison was a national misfortune especially to all supporters of the obrenovitches. not only under these circumstances could there be no legitimate heir to the throne but a matrimonial alliance with one of the great powers was desired by the country. by 1899 the situation had become acute. the spectacle of alexander waiting in the street till draga chose to admit him was a national scandal. he was repeatedly approached on the subject, both by his father and the nation, but draga held him in a firm grip. enmeshed as he knew he was in hostile intrigues, surrounded by spies and traitors, and himself a fool at best, maybe the luckless youth regarded her indeed as the one human creature for whom he had any affection or trust. be that as it may alexander, under her influence, promised his father and vladan georgevitch that he would marry if a suitable match could be arranged. he persuaded them to leave the country to visit a foreign court with this object, and so soon as they had gone he publicly and formally announced his betrothal to draga, and informed his father of the fact by letter. milan, horrified, replied that the dynasty would not survive the blow, and that even a mere lieutenant would scorn such a match. the russian minister mansurov, however, called at once to offer his congratulations to alexander, and called also upon draga. it has even been suggested that russia arranged the affair, and that draga was her tool. this is, however, improbable. it was more likely the achievement of an ambitious and most foolish woman. but that russia jumped at it as the very best means of compassing alexander's ruin cannot be doubted, for no less a person than the tsar accepted the post of kum (godfather) at the wedding, thus publicly announcing his approval of the marriage at which he was represented by a proxy, when it was celebrated at belgrade shortly afterwards. alexander never saw either of his parents again. milan resigned the command of the army and retired to austria and his stormy and variegated career came to an end in the following year. he was only forty-seven at the time of his death, but had compressed into those years an amount of adventure unusual even in the balkans. alexander's marriage, as doubtless foreseen by russia, soon proved disastrous. draga, having achieved her ambition and mounted the throne, showed none of the ability of theodora. clever enough to captivate the feeble-minded alexander, she was too stupid to realize that her only chance lay in gaining the popularity of the people who were none too well disposed. with incredible folly, before in any way consolidating her position, she formed a plot worthy only of a second-rate cinematograph, pretended pregnancy and planned to foist a "supposititious child" upon the nation. a plan, foredoomed by its folly to failure, which brought down on her the contempt and ridicule not only of serbia, but of all europe. such was the history of serbia up to the date when i plunged into it and found it on the verge of a crisis. chapter seven 1903 and what happened for leagues within a state are ever pernicious to monarchic. early in 1903 i received an invitation to stay with certain of the partisans of the karageorgevitches in serbia. the "something" that was to happen had not yet come to pass. my sister wished to travel with me, and my experiences of last year were not such as to lead me to take her to serbia. one takes risks without hesitation when alone, into which one cannot drag a comrade. we went to montenegro. it was hot even at cetinje. we were resting in one of the back bedrooms of the hotel on the afternoon of june 11, when there came a loud knocking at the door and the voice of ivan, the waiter, crying "telegramme, telegramme." we jumped up at once, fearing bad news, and stvane cried excitedly as i opened the door, "the king and queen of serbia are both dead!" my brain re-acted instantly. the "something" had happened, the crisis had come. without pausing a minute to reflect, i said: "then petar karageorgevitch will be king!" "no, no," cried ivan; "every one says it will be our prince mirko!" "no," said i decidedly, for i was quite certain, "it will not be mirko"; and i asked "how did they die?" "god knows," said he; "some say they quarrelled and one shot the other and then committed suicide. and it will be mirko, gospodjitza. there was an article in the paper about it only the other day." he ran off and fetched a paper. i regret now that i took no note what paper it was, but it certainly contained an article naming mirko as heir to the serb throne, supposing alexander to die without issue. cetinje was excited as never before. ordinarily, it lived on one telegram a day from the correspondenz bureau. now the boys ran to and fro the telegraph office and bulletins poured in. one of the earliest stated that the king and queen had died suddenly, cause of death unknown, but bullet wounds found in the bodies. later came full details. according to belgrade papers a revolution had been planning for three months and there were secret committees all over the country; that the decision to slaughter both king and queen had been taken by the corps of officers at belgrade, and the work entrusted to the 6th infantry regiment; that the band of assassins gained access to the palace at 11 p.m.; and, as the king refused to open the door of his bedroom, it was blown in by colonel naumovitch with a dynamite cartridge the explosion of which killed its user. what followed was a shambles. the bodies of the victims, still breathing, but riddled with bullets, were pitched from the window. draga, fortunately for herself, expired at once. but the luckless alexander lingered till 4 a.m. according to current report the assassins, drunk with wine and blood, fell on the bodies and defiled them most filthily, even cutting portions of draga's skin, which they dried and preserved as trophies. an officer later showed a friend of mine a bit which he kept in his pocket book. alexander was a degenerate. his removal may have been desirable. but not even in dahomey could it have been accomplished with more repulsive savagery. and the russian minister, whose house was opposite the konak, calmly watched the events from his window. having wreaked their fury on the bodies, the assassins rushed to kill also draga's two brothers, one of whom it was rumoured was to be declared heir to the throne by alexander. some seventeen others were murdered that night and many wounded. these details we learned later. the afternoon of the 11th passed with excitement enough. evening came and we went in to dinner. upon each table, in place of the usual programme of the evening's performance at the theatre, lay a black edged sheet of paper informing us that the serbian travelling company then playing in cetinje "in consequence of the death of our beloved sovereign king alexander" had closed the theatre till further notice. the tourist table was occupied solely by my sister and myself; the diplomatic one solely by mr. shipley, who was temporarily representing england, and count bollati, the italian minister. dinner passed in complete silence. i was aching to have the opinion of the exalted persons at the other table on the startling news, but dared not broach so delicate a subject. the end came however. the servants withdrew and count bollati turned to me and said suddenly: "now, mademoiselle, you know these countries what do you think of the situation?" "petar karageorgevitch will be made king." "people here all say it will be mirko," said mr. shipley. count bollati maintained it would be a republic. i told them the facts i had learned in serbia, and said that petar was practically a certainty. they were both much interested. "in any case," said mr. shipley, "i should advise you to say nothing about it here. they are all for mirko and you may get yourself into trouble." "i have never seen them so excited," put in the count. "you are too late," said i; "i've told them already, mirko has not a chance. he had better know the truth. you will see in a few days." both gentlemen expressed horror at the crudity of my methods. as a matter of fact a good deal of international misunderstanding could be avoided if the truth were always blurted out at once. the italian thought i was stark mad. the englishman, having a sense of humour, laughed and said, as i well recollect: "your mission in life seems to be to tell home truths to the balkans. it is very good for them. but i wonder that they put up with it." both gentlemen commented on the grim matter-of-factness of the telegrams. "business carried on usual during the alterations," said bollati. his blood was badly curdled by the fact that when he was in belgrade he was well acquainted with colonel mashin, the ill-fated draga's brother-in-law, who--according to the telegrams--had finished her off with a hatchet. "and i have shaken hands with him!" said bollati, disgustedly. mr. shipley suggested that as i had first hand information i had better write an article or two for the english papers; which i did at once. "it is an ill wind that blows nobody any good." i had written my first balkan book and hawked it unsuccessfully round the publishers, who told me that as nobody in england took the faintest interest in the balkans, they could not take it, though they kindly added that as travels went it was not so bad. but the assassination of a king appealed at once to the great heart of the british people and i sold that book as an immediate result. this, by the way. i came down early next morning to post the articles written overnight, and found a whole crowd of officers and intelligentsia (for in no land are these necessarily the same) around the hotel door. vuko vuletitch, the hotelier, in his green, red-embroidered coat, was haranguing them from the doorstep with the latest telegram in his hand. loud and lively discussion filled the air. vuko waved his hand as i approached. "here," he said, "is the gospodjitza who says petar karageorgevitch will be king." i repeated my belief cheerfully: "your man is elected!" cried vuko, holding up the telegram. the news had arrived. mirko's hopes were hopelessly dashed. the accuracy of my information caused a small sensation and i acquired a great reputation for political knowledge. vuko never failed to ask me in future what i made of the situation. it was the morning of the 12th when this news came in. officially, petar was not elected till the 15th, and then not by a really legal method. the military gang having chosen him, summoned a parliament which had already been legally dissolved and was therefore non-existent, and caused it to ratify the choice. whence it has been maintained by many that king petar never was legally elected. the 12th, 13th, and 14th passed quietly, though there was a certain air of disappointment. more details came in. murder is bound to be unlovely. this one was peculiarly so. one fact was prominent. and that was that although many persons expressed horror of the methods and condemned the treachery of officers who had sworn fealty, yet cetinje as a whole regarded the affair as a blessing. not only was the populace pleased, but, with childish ignorance of the western point of view (and at that time west europe was really very fairly civilized), actually expected europe to rejoice with them. it was a cleansing of the temple; a casting out of abominations. and so ready was every one with a candidate for the throne that it was impossible not to suspect that there had been foreknowledge of the event. subsequent enquiry through persons connected with the post office revealed to me the fact that a most unusual amount of cypher telegrams had been buzzing between belgrade and cetinje immediately before the bloody climax. petar karageorgevitch, we learnt by telegram, was dwelling in a "modest apartment" in geneva, and was quite unable to furnish journalists with any information. the paris havas found bozhidar karageorgevitch more communicative and published an interview in which he pleasantly stated that the event had caused him no surprise as he had foreseen it ever since the marriage with draga. on the 14th i drove down to cattaro with my sister to see her off by steamer. cattaro, as usual in the summer, lay panting at the water's edge. no more news; any amount of gossip; the petrovitches were tottering, said some; prince mirko had lately fought a duel upon austrian territory with his brother, prince danilo; they would certainly fight for the throne. the austrian papers were full of "digs" at the petrovitches. i arrived back at cetinje on the evening of the 15th to find it beflagged and rows of tallow candles stuck along my bedroom window for the coming illuminations. a telegram had announced the election by the shkupstina of "our son-in-law" and his accession had already been celebrated by a service at the monastery church and a military parade. "bogati!" cried vuko to me, "you are better informed than all the diplomatists." he added that there was to be a gala performance at the theatre. i flew to the zetski dom. not a seat was to be had. "if you don't mind a crowd," said the ever-obliging vuko, "you can come into my box." and he hurried up dinner that we might all be in time. the diplomatic table complimented me on having "spotted the winner," and on either table lay a festive programme informing us that the serbian theatrical company, which had abruptly shed its mourning, was giving a gala performance "in honour of the accession of our beloved king petar." the theatre was packed from roof to floor. the performance opened with a tableau--a portrait of petar i, bewreathed and beflagged. a speech was made. there were shouts of "zhivio!" ("long life to him!" an eminently suitable remark under the circumstances). the whole house cheered. i felt like an accessory after the act. up in the royal box, the only representatives of the reigning house, sat prince mirko and his wife. i watched his stony countenance. but for the devil and holy russia, we might have been shouting "zhivio kralj mirko!" i wondered if it hurt badly and felt sorry for him, for i have been ploughed in an exam, myself. we were a tight fit in our box. gazivoda, head of the police at podgoritza and brother-in-law to vuko, was there. he, too, was assassinated a few years afterwards. and there was a crowd of vuko's pretty daughters. the eldest, still a pupil at the russian girls' school (russia institut) was shuddering with horror at the crime. "poor queen, poor queen!" she muttered at intervals, "she was still alive when they threw her from the window. if i had been there i would have wept on her grave." she was but fifteen, and it was her initiation into those balkan politics in which, as madame rizoff, she was herself later to play a part. we shouted our last "zhivio!" the play was over. petar was king and the near east had entered upon a new path which led as yet none knew whither. i noted in my diary, "will the army, now that it has taken the bit between its teeth, be more than king petar can manage?" in truth no greater curse can befall a land than to be ruled by its own army. a nation that chooses to be dictated to by its military has sunk low indeed. cetinje showed signs of relapsing into dullness. i started on a tour up country. the country i have described elsewhere, and will deal now only with the political situation. there were no roads then over the mountains and travelling was very severe work. at every halt--for rest in the midday heat, or a cup of black coffee to stimulate me for another two or three hours on horse and on foot--the serbian murders were the one topic. boshko, my guide, with the latest news from podgoritza was in great request and a proud man. everywhere the crime was approved. the women raged against draga, even saying "she ought to lie under the accursed stone heap!"--a reminiscence of the fact that stoning to death was actually inflicted in montenegro in the old days, upon women for sexual immorality. vuk vrchevitch records a case as late as 1770. and in quite recent times a husband still, if he thought fit, would cut off the nose of his wife if he suspected her of infidelity. no man, it was explained to me cheerfully, was ever likely to make love to her again after that. west europe was, in 1903, quite ignorant of the state of primitive savagery from which the south slavs were but beginning to rise. distinguished scientists travelled far afield and recorded the head hunters of new guinea. but the ballads of grand voyvoda mirko--king nikola of montenegro's father--gloating over slaughter, telling of the piles of severed heads, of the triumph with which they were carried home on stakes and set around the village, and the best reserved as an offering to nikola himself for the adornment of cetinje; and the stripping and mutilating of the dead foe, give us a vivid picture of life resembling rather that of dahomey, than europe in 1860. in the breast of every human being there is a wolf. it may sleep for several generations. but it wakes at last and howls for blood. in the breast of the south slav, both serb and montenegrin, it has not yet even thought of slumbering. montenegro approved the crime. it was to lead to "something"--indefinite, mysterious. serdar jovo martinovitch ruled in kolashin, a strong man then, who rode the clansmen on a strong curb. he had come up there as governor about four years ago on account of the constant fighting, not only on the border, but between the montenegrin plemena (tribes). the latter he had put a stop to. thirty years ago he assured me the clans were in a state of savagery. his own life was very balkan; many women figured in it; and to escape blood-vengeance he had fled--with one of them--to bulgaria, where he had served long years in the bulgarian army; and had returned to montenegro only after the affair had blown over. of the bulgars he spoke in the highest terms. at andrijevitza, to which he passed me on, great excitement reigned. some great event was expected at no distant date. i was told that it was now impossible for me to go to gusinje, but that next year all would be different. that they were well informed about the bulgar rising which was about to take place in macedonia i cannot, in the light of what followed, doubt. prince danilo's birthday was feted magnificently with barbaric dances by firelight, national songs and an ocean of rakija. we drank to the prince and wished him soon on the throne of prizren, a wish which at that time every montenegrin expected to see soon realized. the reign of the turk, i was told, was all but over. i remarked that this had been said for a hundred years at least and was told that the end must come some time, and that i should see it soon. meanwhile, the' authorities of andrijevitza were extremely anxious to get me to go across the border. though i was not aware of it at the time, they meant to use me to cover a spy. that the expedition was dangerous i knew. the ipek district had scarcely been penetrated by a foreigner for fifteen years, and was a forbidden one. the danger i did not mind. my two months' liberty each year were like judas's fabled visit to the iceberg--but they made the endless vista of grey imprisonment at home the more intolerable. and a bullet would have been a short way out. i made the expedition and gained thereby a reputation for courage which in truth i little deserved. as i was being used for political purposes, though i did not know it, i was, of course, shown only the great serbian view of things. the plan was carefully laid. my guide, who was disguised, spoke albanian and some turkish. at berani, our first stopping place, just over the turkish border, i met the first objectors to the murders--the monks at the very ancient church of giurgevi stupovi and a little company consisting of a wild-looking priest clad as a peasant and with a heavy revolver in his sash, and a couple of schoolmasters very heavily depressed. they, too, had evidently expected "something" to happen soon. i gathered, in fact, that an attack on the turk had been planned, and now with this revolution on their hands the serbs would be able to do nothing. in the town, however, i met the nephew of voyvoda gavro, then montenegro's minister for foreign affairs--a decadent type of youth on vacation from constantinople, where he was at college. for the montenegrins, though always expressing a hatred of all things turkish, have never missed an opportunity of sending their sons for education--gratis--to the enemy's capital. his conversation--and he was most anxious to pose as very "modern"--showed that constantinople is not a very nice place for boys to go to school in. he was furious with me for daring to criticize the serbian murders. he said no one but an enemy of the serb people would do so, and threatened to denounce me to his uncle. leaving berani i plunged into albanian territory. this land, fondly called by the serbs "stara srbija," old serbia, was in point of fact serb only for a short period. the serbs, or rather their slav ancestors, poured into the balkan peninsula in vast hordes in the sixth and seventh centuries and overwhelmed the original inhabitant, the albanian. but though they tried hard, they did not succeed in exterminating him. the original inhabitant, we may almost say, never is exterminated. the albanian was a peculiarly tough customer. he withdrew to the fastnesses of the mountains, fought with his back to the wall, so to speak, and in defiance of efforts to serbize him, retained his language and remained persistently attached to the church of rome. serbia reached her highest point of glory under tsar stefan dushan. on his death in 1356, leaving no heir capable of ruling the heterogeneous empire he had thrown together in the twenty years of his reign, the rival feudal chieftains of serbia fought with each other for power and the empire was soon torn to pieces. albania split off from the mass almost at once, and was a separate principality under the balsha chiefs. and from that time albania has never again fallen completely under serb power. the turkish conquest crushed the serbs and the albanians grew in power. we cannot here detail the history, suffice it to say that in 1679 the serbs of kosovo, finding themselves unable to resist the advance of the albanians and the power of the turks, evacuated that district. led by arsenius, the serb patriarch, thousands of families emigrated into austria, who saved the serb people. since then the albanians had poured down and resettled in the land of their ancestors. from berani our route lay through arnaoutluk. we passed through rugova; nor did i know till afterwards that this was reputed one of the most dangerous districts in turkish territory and that no european traveller had been that way for some twenty years. there was a rough wooden mosque by the wayside. we halted. the people were friendly enough and some one gave us coffee. i little thought 'that in a few years time the place would be the scene of a hideous massacre by the montenegrins modelled on the moslem-slaying of vladika danilo. we reached ipek after some sixteen hours of very severe travel and knocked at the gates of the patriarchia long after nightfall--the very place whose bishop had led the retreating serb population into austria over two centuries before. my arrival was a thunderbolt, both for the patriarchia and the turkish authorities, who had forbidden the entry of strangers into the district and closed the main routes to it, but had never imagined any one would be so crazy as to drop in over the montenegrin frontier by way of rugova. the whole district was under military occupation. about thirty thousand turkish troops were camped in the neighbourhood, and i learnt that a great deal of fighting had recently taken place. briefly, the position was that for the past two and a half centuries the albanians had been steadily re-occupying the lands of their illyrian ancestors and pressing back the small remaining serb population, and since the time of the treaty of berlin had been struggling to wrest autonomy from the turks and obtain recognition as a nation. the whole of this district had been included in the autonomous albanian state proposed and mapped out by lord goschen and lord fitzmaurice in 1880. ipek, jakova and prizren were centres of the albanian league. the british government report of august 1880 gives a very large albanian majority to the whole district. "the albanians are numerically far superior to the serbians, who are not numerous in kosovopolje and the sanjak of novibazar. the albanian population in the vilayet of kosovo has lately (1880) been still further increased by the accession of many thousands of refugees from districts now, in virtue of the treaty of berlin, in serbian possession and which prior to the late war were exclusively inhabited by descendants of the twelve greg tribes, which at a remote period emigrated from upper albania." a fundamental doctrine of the great serb idea is a refusal to recognize that history existed before the creation of the serb empire, or even to admit that balkan lands had owners before the arrival of the serbs. nothing infuriates a "great serbian" more than to suggest that if he insists on appealing to history another race has a prior claim to the land, and that in any case the great serbia of stefan dushan lasted but twenty years. in pursuance of this theory that the greater part of the balkan peninsula is the birthright of the serbs (who only began coming into these lands at the earliest in the fourth century a.d.) the serbs behaved with hideous brutality to the inhabitants of the lands they annexed in 1878, and swarms of starving and destitute persons were hunted out, a large proportion of whom perished of want and exposure. the hatred between serb and albanian was increased a hundredfold, and the survivors and their descendants struggled continuously to gain complete control over the lands still theirs and to regain, if possible, those that they had lost. the adoption of lord fitzmaurice's plan would have spared the balkans and possibly europe much bloodshed and suffering. when i arrived on the scene in the summer of 1903 the turks had sent a large punitive expedition to enforce the payment of cattle tax and, at the command of europe, to introduce a new "reform" policy in kosovo vilayet. the albanians were well aware that the so-called reforms meant ultimately the furtherance of russia's pan-slav schemes; that so long as even a handful of serbs lived in a place russia would claim it as serb and enforce the claim to the best of her power; that the "reforms" meant, in fact, the introduction of serb and russian consulates, the erection of serb schools and churches under russian protection, the planting of serb colonies and ultimate annexation. russia was actively endeavouring to peg out fresh serb claims. the russian consul at mitrovitza, m. shtcherbina, had taken part in a fight against the albanians and was mortally wounded, it was reported, while he was serving a gun. russia, in fact, having already made sure of the removal of the pro-austrian obrenovitches and being in close touch with montenegro and bulgaria was planning another coup in the balkans. albania was resisting it. the turks under pressure from the powers were striving to smooth matters down sufficiently to stave off the final crash that drew ever nearer. they arrested a number of headmen and exacted some punishment for shtcherbina's death. though if a consul chooses to take part in a local fight he alone is responsible for results. i had, in fact, arrived at a critical moment. the turkish authorities telegraphed all over the country to know what they were to do about me. my montenegrin guide showed anxiety also and begged me on no account to reveal his origin. from a little hill belonging to the patriarchia i saw the widespread turkish camp on the plain. the igumen and the few monks and visitors gave me the serb point of view. because some six centuries ago the sveti kralj had been crowned in the church they regarded the land as rightfully and inalienably serb. they looked forward to the arrival of russian armies that should exterminate all that was not serb. shtcherbina to them was a christ-like man who had died to save them, and they treasured his portrait. russia, only the year before, had insisted on planting a consul at mitrovitza against the wish of the turkish government. serb hopes had been raised. and it was possible that his presence had in fact caused the fight. they admitted, however, that the turks were responsible for the state of albania, for they prohibited the formation of albanian schools and made progress impossible; an independent albania would be better. news of the deaths of alexander and draga had reached ipek, but no details, for serbian papers could only be smuggled in with great difficulty. i gathered that the murders caused some anxiety, for a great movement against the turks was planned, and owing to the upheaval in serbia, perhaps serbia would not now take part. as i was english they believed that the turks would be obliged to permit me to travel further if i pleased. but they implored me on no account if i went further afield, to take the train as all the railways were shortly to be blown up. meanwhile the turkish authorities could not decide what to do about me and called me to the konak about my passport. there i waited hours. the place was crowded with applicants for permission to travel. half-starved wretches begged leave to go to another district in search of harvest work and were denied. the turks were in a nervous terror and doubtless knew a crisis was at hand. as i waited in the crowd a youth called to me across the room and said in french: "it is pity you were not here a week or two ago. you could have gone to uskub and met all the foreign correspondents. now they have all gone. i was dragoman to the times correspondent. he has gone too. they think it is all over and it has not yet begun." he laughed. i was terrified lest any one present should know french. the boy declared they did not. finally, the pasha refused me permission to go to jakova as i had asked. and quite rightly, for fighting was still going on there between the troops and the albanians. i was allowed only to visit the monastery of detchani, a few hours' ride distant. detchani is one of the difficulties in the drawing of a just frontier. though in a district that is wholly albanian, it is one of the monuments of the ancient serb empire and contains the shrine of the sveti kralj, king stefan detchanski, who was strangled in 1336 in his castle of zvechani, it is said, by order of his son who succeeded him as the great tsar stefan dushan, and was in his turn murdered in 1356. st. stefan dechansld is accounted peculiarly holy and yet to work miracles. the church, a fine one in pink and white marble, was built by an architect from cattaro, and shows venetian influence. a rude painting of the strangling of stefan adorns his shrine. i thought of the sordid details of the death of. serbia's latest king and the old world and the new seemed very close. except in the matter of armament, things balkan had changed but little in over five centuries. a turkish officer and some nizams were quartered at the monastery, but the few monks and students there seemed oddly enough to have more faith in a guard of moslem albanians who lived near. they were expecting shortly the arrival of russian monks from mount athos. russia was, in fact, planting russian subjects there for the express purpose of making an excuse for intervention. the young turkish officer was very civil to me and offered to give me a military escort to enable me to return to montenegro by another route. my disguised montenegrin guide who was pledged to hand me over safe and sound to voyvoda lakitch at andrijevitza signalled to me in great anxiety. each day he remained on turkish territory he risked detection and the loss of his life. i returned therefore to the patriarchia, recovered my passport from the pasha and was given by him a mounted gendarme to ride with me as far as berani. this fellow, a cheery moslem bosniak, loaded his rifle and kept a sharp look out. and a second gendarme accompanied us till we were through the pass. and both vowed that a few months ago they wouldn't have come with less than thirty men; albanians behind every rock and piff paff, a bullet in your living heart before you knew where you were. they wondered much that i had made the journey with only one old zaptieh. still more, that i had been allowed to come at all. berani received me with enthusiasm. nor had my cheery turkish gendarme an idea that my guide was a montenegrin till he took off his fez at the frontier. then the gendarme slapped his thigh, roared with laughter and treated it as a good joke. the said guide's relief on being once more in his own territory showed clearly what the risks had been for him. andrijevitza gave us quite an ovation. countless questions as to the number and position of the turkish army were poured out. my guide had fulfilled his task. i was reckoned a hero. what hold the voyvoda had over the kaimmakam of berani i never ascertained. but it was the voyvoda's letter to the kaimmakam that got me over the border. all that i gathered was that i had been made use of for political purposes and successfully come through what every one considered a very dangerous enterprise. the same people who had urged me to go now addressed me as "one that could look death in the eyes." had i met death, what explanation would they have offered to the questions that must have cropped up over the death of a british subject? a number of schoolmasters had gathered in andrijevitza for their holidays. many of them were educated in belgrade and these were especially of the opinion that the murder of alexander and draga was a splendid thing for serbia, and when i said it might bring misfortune were not at all pleased. even persons who at first said the murder was horrible now said since it was done it was well done. the voyvoda and the kapetan told me that every country in europe had accepted king petar except england and that the serb minister had been sent from london. "england," they declared, "has often been our enemy." they hoped that good, however, would result from my journey. the whole of my return to cetinje was a sort of triumphal progress. jovo martinovitch, the serdar at kolashin, was delighted to hear of the ipek expedition, but admitted frankly that he had not dared propose it himself. voyvoda lakitch, he said, was well informed and no doubt knew the moment at which it could be safely attempted. every place i passed through was of opinion something was about to happen soon. next year the route to gusinje would be open. at podgoritza i was received by the governor spiro popovitch and taken for a drive round the town. i arrived at cetinje in time for dinner and appeared in my usual corner. mr. shipley and count bollati hailed me at once saying that they thought i was about due. where had i been? "ipek," said i. the effect on the diplomatic table was even more startling than upon montenegro. "but the route is closed!" said every one. i assured them i had nevertheless been through it, and mr. shipley said if he had had any idea i was going to attempt such a thing he would have telegraphed all over the place and stopped it. at the same time he admitted, "i rather thought you were up to something," and gave me a piece of excellent advice, which i have always followed, which was "never consult a british representative if you want to make a risky journey." really, he was quite pleased about it and crowed over the rest of the diplomatic table, that the british could get to places that nobody else could. i received a note next morning from the bulgarian diplomatic agent praying for an interview. he had not been long in cetinje, but later became one of the best known balkan politicians. for he was monsieur rizoff, who, as bulgar minister at berlin, played a considerable part in the balkan politics of the great war. he was a macedonian bulgar born at resna, a typical bulgar in build and cast of countenance, and a shrewd and clever intriguer. his excitement over my journey was great and he wanted every possible detail as to what were the turkish forces and where they were situated. i told him that i understood a rising was planned. and he told me quite frankly that all was being prepared and a rising was to break out in macedonia so soon as the crops were harvested. i gathered that rizoff himself was deeply mixed in the plot, an idea which was confirmed later on. for among the papers captured on a bulgar comitadgi, doreff, was a letter signed grasdoff, describing his attempts to import arms through montenegro, a plan he found impossible owing to the opposition of the albanians in the territories that must be passed through. he visited cetinje and reports: "i have spoken with m. rizoff. with regard to the passage of men and munitions through montenegro . . . even at the risk of losing his post he is disposed to give his assistance. but owing to the great difficulty the plan would meet in albania we must renounce it. m. rizoff hopes to be transferred soon to belgrade. m. rizoff having met m. milakoff (pmilukoff) at abbazia, has decided to continue the preparations for the organization until public opinion is convinced of the inutility of the (turkish) reforms or until the term fixed--october 1905." rizoff, in his talk with me, seemed hopeful of inducing european intervention. desultory fighting between bulgar bands and turkish troops had been going on in macedonia throughout the year and many bulgar peasants had fled from macedonia into bulgaria where fresh bands were prepared. a bad fight had taken place near uskub, the slav peasants of which were then recognized as bulgars. but the serbo-bulgar struggle for uskub--which, in truth, was then mainly albanian--had begun. throughout turkish territory, greek, serb and bulgar pegged out their claims by the appointment of bishops. once a bishop was successfully planted, a school with serb, greek or bulgar masters at once sprang up and under the protection of one great power or another a fresh propaganda was started. every time a bishop was moved by one side, it meant "check to your king!" for the other. english bishops talked piously of, and even prayed for "our christian brethren of the balkans," happily unaware that their christian brethren were solely engaged in planning massacres or betraying the priests of a rival nationality to the turks. serbia had just triumphantly cried "check" to bulgaria. in 1902 the bishop of uskub had died. the serbs had had no bishop in turkish territory since the destruction of the serb bishopric of ipek in 1766, which was the work of the greek patriarch rather than of the turk. they now put in a claim. the russian vjedomosti published a learned article on the ipek episcopate. the porte regarded with dread the increasing power of the bulgars. so did the greek patriarch at constantinople. he of 1766 had aimed at the destruction of slavdom. he of 1902 thought serbia far less dangerous than bulgaria. firmilian was duly consecrated in june, 1902--a small straw showing that russia had begun to blow serbwards. she began to see she could not afford to have a powerful bulgaria between herself and constantinople. at cetinje i gathered that my jpurney to ipek was mysteriously connected with "something" that was going to happen, and was interested to find that though the populace still heartily approved of the murder of alexander and were filled with anger and dismay at england's rupture of diplomatic relations, the mighty of the land had realized that in public at any rate, it was as well to moderate their transports. king nikola had been interviewed by several british and other journalists, had looked down his nose, lamented the wickedness of the serbs and assured his interviewers that the montenegrins were a far more virtuous people. montenegro posed as the good boy of the serb race, and as the gentlemen in question had not been present either at the thanksgiving in the church nor the gala performance at the zetski dom, they accepted the statement. interviewing is, in fact, as yet the most efficient method by which journalism can spread erroneous reports. i returned to london and read shortly afterwards in the times that macedonian troubles had settled down and recollecting that at ipek i had learnt they had not yet begun i wrote and told the times so. but it was far too well informed to print this statement. had it not withdrawn its correspondent? and, as rizoff had told me, a general bulgar rising broke out all through macedonia in august. chapter eight macedonia, 1903-1904 the macedonian rising of 1903 was a purely bulgar movement. as is invariably the case with such risings, it was ill-planned; and untrained peasants and irregular forces never in the long run have a chance against regulars. its history has been told more than once in detail. i need only say that, instead of revolting simultaneously, one village rose after another, and the turkish forces rode round, burning and pillaging in the usual fashion of punitive expeditions. thousands of refugees fled into bulgaria--thus emphasizing their nationality--and within the bulgarian frontier organized komitadji bands, which carried on a desultory guerrilla war with the turkish forces for some time. but it was soon obvious that, unless strongly aided by some outside power, the rising must fail. the most important point to notice now is that not a single one of these many revolutionaries fled to serbia, or claimed that they were serbs. they received arms, munitions and other help from bulgaria, from serbia nothing. they were rising to make big bulgaria, not great serbia. serbia now claims these people as serbs. she did not then extend one finger to assist them. milosh would not help the greeks to obtain freedom because he did not want a large greece. similarly, serbia and greece in 1903 did nothing at all to aid the macedonian revolutionaries. most of us who have worked in old days to free the people from the turkish yoke have now recognized what a farce that tale was. not one of the balkan people ever wanted to "free" their "christian brethren" unless there was a chance of annexing them. the bulgar rising died down as winter came on and acute misery reigned in the devastated districts. in december, as one who had some experience of balkan life, i was asked to go out on relief work under the newly formed macedonian relief committee. the invitation came to me as an immense surprise and with something like despair. i had had my allotted two months' holiday. i had never before been asked to take part in any public work, and i wanted to go more than words could express. circumstances had forced me to refuse so many openings. i was now forty, and this might be my last chance. the fates were kind, and i started for salonika at a few days' notice, travelling almost straight through. serbia was depressed and anxious, i gathered from my fellow travellers, as we passed through it. bishop firmilian, whose election to the see of uskub the serbs had with great difficulty obtained in june 1902, had just died. the train was full of ecclesiastics going to his funeral at uskub. russia had aided his election very considerably. it had coincided with russia's support of petar karageorgevitch to the throne of serbia, and all was part of russia's new balkan plans in which serbia was to play a leading role. petar was not received by europe. firmilian was dead. serbia was anxious. they buried firmilian on christmas day in the morning, dreading the while lest they were burying the bishopric too, so far as serbia was concerned--and i reached salonika that night. the tale of the relief work i have told elsewhere. i will now touch only on the racial questions. in monastir i tried to buy some serb books, for i was hard at work studying the language, and had a dictionary and grammar with me. serbian propaganda in monastir was, however, then only in its infancy, and nothing but very elementary school books were to be got. the bulgars had a big school and church. if any one had suggested that monastir was serb or ever likely to be serb, folk would have thought him mad--or drunk. the pull was between greek and bulgar, there was no question of the serbs. there was a large "greek" population, both in town and country, but of these a very large proportion were vlachs, many were south albanians, others were slavs. few probably were genuine greeks. but they belonged to the greek branch of the orthodox church, and were reckoned greek in the census. those slavs who called themselves serbs, and the serb schoolmasters who had come for propaganda purposes, all went to the greek churches. as for the hatred between the greek and bulgar churches--it was so intense that no one from west europe who has not lived in the land with it, can possibly realize it. the greeks under turkish rule had been head of the orthodox christians. true to balkan type, they had dreamed only of the reconstruction of the big byzantine empire, and had succeeded, by hooks and crooks innumerable, in suppressing and replacing the independent serb and bulgar churches. but russia, when she began to scheme for pan-slavism, had no sympathy with big byzantium, and was aware that when you have an ignorant peasantry to deal with, a national church is one of the best means for producing acute nationalism. under pressure from russia, who was supported by other powers--some of whom really believed they were aiding the cause of christianity--the sultan in 1870 created by firman the bulgarian exarchate. far from "promoting christianity" the result of this was that the greek patriarch excommunicated the exarch and all his followers, and war was declared between the two churches. they had no difference of any kind or sort as regards doctrine, dogma, or ceremonial. the difference was, and is, political and racial. never have people been more deluded than have been the pious of england about the balkan christians. in montenegro i had heard all the stock tales of the christian groaning under the turkish yoke, and had believed them. i learnt in macedonia the strange truth that, on the contrary, it was the christian churches of the balkans that kept the turk in power. greek and serb were both organizing komitadjis bands and sending them into macedonia, not to "liberate christian brethren"--no. that was the last thing they wanted. but to aid the turk in suppressing "christian brethren." i condoled with the bulgar bishop of ochrida on the terrible massacre of his flock by the turks. he replied calmly that to him it had been a disappointment. he had expected quite half the population to have been killed, and then europe would have been forced to intervene. not a quarter had perished, and he expected it would all have to be done over again. "next time there will be a great slaughter. all the foreign consuls and every foreigner will be killed too. it is their own fault." big bulgaria was to be constructed at any price. i suggested that, had the bulgars risen in 1897 when the greek made war on the turk, the whole land could have been freed. he replied indignantly, "i would rather the land should remain for ever under the turk than that the greeks should ever obtain a kilometre." later i met his rival, the greek bishop. he, too, loudly lamented the suffering of the wretched christian under the turkish yoke. to him i suggested that if greece aided the bulgar rising the christian might now be freed. the mere idea horrified him. sooner than allow those swine of bulgars to obtain any territory he would prefer that the land should be for ever turkish. such was the christianity which at that time was being prayed for in english churches. bulgars came to me at night and begged poison with which to kill greeks. greeks betrayed bulgar komitadjis to the turkish authorities. the serbs sided with the greeks. they had not then the smallest desire "to liberate their slav brethren in macedonia." no. they were doing all they could to prevent the bulgars liberating them. of serb conduct a vivid picture is given by f. wilson in a recently published book on the serbs she looked after as refugees during the late war. she gives details taken down from the lips of a serbian schoolmaster, who describes how he began serb propaganda in macedonia in 1900. "we got the children. we made them realize they were serbs. we taught them their history. . . . masters and children, we were like secret conspirators." when the bulgars resisted this propaganda he describes how a gang of thirty serbs "met in a darkened room and swore for each serb killed to kill two bulgars." lots were drawn for who should go forth to assassinate. "we broke a loaf in two and each ate a piece. it was our sacrament. our wine was the blood of the bulgarians." a small serb school had recently been opened in ochrida, and i was invited there to the feast of st. sava. the whole serb population of ochrida assembled. we were photographed together. counting the greek priest, the schoolmaster and his family, who were from serbia, and myself, we were a party of some fifty people. ochrida had a very mixed population. more than half were moslems, most of them albanians. of the christians the bulgars formed the largest unit, but there were many vlachs. these were reckoned as greeks by the greeks, but were already showing signs of claiming their own nationality. the serbs were by far the smallest group, so small in fact as to be then negligible. the kaimmakam was an albanian moslem, mehdi bey, who kept the balance well under very difficult circumstances, and to-day is one of the leading albanian nationalists. he asserted always that ochrida should, of right, belong to albania. albanian it was indeed considered until the rise of the russo-bulgar movement. as late as 1860 we find the lakes of ochrida and presba referred to as the albanian lakes by english travellers. through the winter of 1903-4 trouble simmered, arrests were made, murders occurred. i learnt the ethics of murder, which, in macedonia, were simply: "when a moslem kills a moslem so much the better. when a christian kills a christian it is better not talked about, because people at home would not understand it; when a christian kills a moslem it is a holy and righteous act. when a moslem kills a christian it is an atrocity and should be telegraphed to all the papers." in february 1904 the russo-japanese quarrel, which had been for some time growing hotter, burst into sudden war, and the whole complexion of balkan affairs changed. at the beginning the bulgar leaders took it for granted that russia was invincible, and anticipated speedy and complete victory for her. they were also supplied with false news, and refused to credit at first any russian defeat. the bishop of ochrida was furious when i reported to him the sinking of the petropalovski, and fiercely declared that the war was in reality an anglo-russian one, and that japan was merely our tool. when riding on relief work among the burnt villages it was easy to learn the great part russia had taken in building up the bulgar rising in macedonia. the same tale was told in almost each. once upon a time, not so very long ago, a rich, noble and generous gentleman had visited the village. he was richer than you could imagine; had paid even a white medjid for a cup of coffee; had called the headmen and the priest together and had asked them if they would like a church of their own in the village. and in due time the church had been built. followed, a list of silver candlesticks, vestments, etc., presented by this same nobleman--the russian consul. the turks had looted the treasures. could i cause them to be restored? sometimes the consul had had an old church restored. sometimes he had given money to establish a school. always he stood for the people as something almost omnipotent. in august m. rostovsky, the russian consul at monastir, had been murdered. there was nothing political in the affair. the russian had imagined the land was already his, and that he was dealing with humble mouzhiks. he carried a heavy riding-whip and used it when he chose. i was told by an eye-witness that on one occasion he so savagely flogged a little boy who had ventured to hang on behind the consular carriage that a turkish gendarme intervened. one day he lashed an albanian soldier. the man waited his opportunity and shot rostovsky dead on the main road near the consulate. russia treated the murder as a political one, and demanded and obtained apology and reparation of the turkish government. the consul's remains were transported to the coast with full honours. all this for a russian consul in turkey. truly one man may steal a horse and another not look over a fence. russia mobilized when austria insisted on enquiry into the murder of an archduke. so well was rostovsky's funeral engineered that the native slav peasants looked on him as a martyr to the sacred slav cause, not as a man who had brought his punishment on himself. russia was not, however, the only power in monastir. it seethed with consuls. and the most prominent was krai, the austrian consul-general, a very energetic and scheming man who "ran" austria for all she was worth, and was a thorn in the side of the british consul, whom he endeavoured to thwart at every turn. he persuaded the american missionaries, who were as innocent as babes about european politics, though they had passed thirty years in the balkan peninsula, that he and not the englishman could best forward their interests, and they foolishly induced the american government to transfer them and their schools to austrian protection. and he pushed himself to the front always, declaring that he had far more power to aid the relief work and trying to make the english consult him instead of their own representative. this annoyed me, and i therefore never visited him at all. up country among the revolted villages it was clear that the luckless people had been induced to rise by the belief that, as in 1877, russia would come to their rescue! but as time passed, and russia herself realized that the japanese were a tough foe, it became more and more apparent that no further rising would take place in the spring. the balkan orthodox lenten fast is so severe that a rising before easter was always improbable. this easter would see none.. i remembered with curious clearness the words of the pole who gave me my first serbian lessons. "russia is corrupt right through. if there is a war--russia will be like that!" and he threw a rag of paper into the basket scornfully. his has been a twice true prophecy. the bulgarian bishop of ochrida still believed firmly in russia's invincibility. furious when i refused to have cartridges, etc., hidden in my room--which the turks never searched--he turned on me and declared that england was not a christian country and would be wiped out by holy russia, who had already taken half japan and would soon take the rest and all india too. by the middle of march i was quite certain no rising would take place. the foreign office in london still expected one, and notified all relief workers up country to wind up work and return. the others did, but i stayed and managed to ride right through albania. chapter nine. albania "where rougher climes a nobler race displayed."--byron. study of the macedonian question had shown me that one of the most important factors of the near eastern question was the albanian, and that the fact that he was always left out of consideration was a constant source of difficulty. the balkan committee had recently been formed, and i therefore decided to explore right through albania, then but little known, in order to be able to acquire first-hand information as to the aspirations and ideas of the albanians. throughout the relief work in macedonia we had employed albanians in every post of trust--as interpreters, guides, kavasses and clerks. the depot of the british and foreign bible society at monastir was entirely in albanian hands. the albanian was invaluable to the bible society, and the bible society was invaluable to the albanians. albania was suffering very heavily. every other of the sultan subject races had its own schools--schools that were, moreover, heavily subsidized from abroad. the bulgarian schools in particular were surprisingly well equipped. each school was an active centre of nationalist propaganda. all the schoolmasters were revolutionary leaders. all were protected by various consulates which insisted on opening new schools and protested when any were interfered with. only when it was too late to stop the schools did the turks perceive their danger. first came the school, then the revolution, then foreign intervention--and another piece of the turkish' empire was carved off. this had happened with serbia, greece and bulgaria. the turks resolved it should not happen in the case of albania. albania was faced by two enemies. not only the turk dreaded the uprising of albania, but russia had already determined that the balkan peninsula was to be slav and orthodox. greece as orthodox might be tolerated. no one else. the turkish government prohibited the printing and teaching of the albanian language under most severe penalties. turkish schools were established for the moslem albanians, and every effort made to bring up the children to believe they were turks. in south albania, where the christians belong to the orthodox church, the greeks were encouraged to found schools and work a greek propaganda. the turks hoped thus to prevent the rise of a strong national albanian party. the greek patriarch went so far as to threaten with excommunication any orthodox albanian who should use the "accursed language" in church or school. in north albania, where the whole of the christians are catholics, the austrians, who had been charged by europe with the duty of protecting the catholics, established religious schools in which the teaching was in albanian, and with which the turkish government was unable to interfere. the jesuits, under austrian protection, established a printing press in scutari for the printing in albanian of religious books. but this movement, being strictly catholic, was confined to the north. it was, moreover, initiated with the intent of winning over the northern christians to austria, and was directed rather to dividing the christians from the moslems and to weakening rather than strengthening the sense of albanian nationality. the results of this we will trace later. none of these efforts on the part of albania's enemies killed the strong race instinct which has enabled the albanian to survive the roman empire and the fall of byzantium, outlive the fleeting mediaeval empires of bulgar and serb, and finally emerge from the wreck of the mighty ottoman empire, retaining his language, his customs and his primitive vigour--a rock over which the tides of invasion have washed in vain. when threatened with loss of much albanian territory by the terms of the treaty of berlin, the albanians rose in force and demanded the recognition of their rights. there is a popular ballad in albanian cursing lord beaconsfield, who went to berlin in order to ruin albania and give her lands to her pitiless enemy the slav. the treaty did nothing for albania, but it caused the formation of the albanian league and a national uprising by means of which the albanians retained some of the said lands in spite of the powers. this induced abdul hamid for a short time to relax the ban upon the albanian language. at once national schools were opened, and books and papers came from albanian presses. the sultan, alarmed by the rapid success of the national movement, again prohibited the language. schoolmasters were condemned to long terms of imprisonment. as much as fifteen years was the sentence that could be, and was, inflicted upon any one found in possession of an albanian paper, and the greek priests entered enthusiastically into the persecution. but albanian was not killed. leaders of the movement went to bucarest, to sofia, to brussels, to london, and set to work. with much difficulty and at great personal risk books and papers published abroad were smuggled into albania by moslem albanian officials, many of whom suffered exile and confiscation of all their property in consequence. but there was another means by which printed albanian was brought into the country. during the short interval when the printing of albanian had been permitted, a translation of the bible was made for the british and foreign bible society. this society had the permission of the turkish government to circulate its publications freely. when the interdict on the language was again imposed a nice question arose. had the society the right to circulate albanian testaments? the turkish government had not the least objection to the gospels--only they must not be in albanian. a constant war on the subject went on. the director of the bible depot in monastir was an albanian of high standing both as regards culture and energy. grasping the fact that by means of these publications an immense national propaganda could be worked, he spared no pains, and by carefully selecting and training albanian colporteurs, whose business it was to learn in which districts the officials were dangerous, where they were sympathetic, and where there were nationalists willing themselves to risk receiving and distributing books, succeeded to a remarkable degree. the greeks, of course, opposed the work. a greek bishop is, in fact, declared to have denounced the dissemination of "the new testament and other works contrary to the teaching of the holy and orthodox church." nevertheless it continued. it was with one of the society's colporteurs that i rode through albania. i was thus enabled everywhere to meet the nationalists and to observe how very widely spread was the movement. the journey was extremely interesting, and as exciting in many respects as borrow's bible in spain. leaving monastir in a carriage and driving through much of the devastated slav area i was greatly struck on descending into the plain land by lake malik to see the marked difference in the type of man that swung past on the road. i saw again the lean, strong figure and the easy stride of the albanian, the man akin to my old friends of scutari, a wholly different type from the bulgar peasants among whom i had been working, and i felt at home. koritza, the home of nationalism in the south, was my first halting-place. it was celebrated as being the only southern town in which there was still an albanian school in spite of turk and greek. like the schools of scutari, it owed its existence to foreign protection. it was founded by the american mission. its plucky teacher, miss kyrias (now mrs. dako), conducted it with an ability and enthusiasm worthy of the highest praise. and in spite of the fact that attendance at the school meant that parents and children risked persecution by the turk and excommunication by the greek priest, yet the school was always full. the girls learned to read and write albanian and taught their brothers. many parents told me very earnestly how they longed for a boys' school too. the unfortunate master of the albanian boys' school, permitted during the short period when the interdiction was removed, was still in prison serving his term of fifteen years. could not england, i was asked, open a school? now either a child must learn greek or not learn to read at all. and the greek teachers even told children that it was useless to pray in albanian, for christ was a greek, and did not understand any other language. everywhere it was the same. deputations came to me begging for schools. even orthodox priests, who were albanian, ventured to explain that what they wanted was an independent church. roumania, serbia, greece, even montenegro, each was free to elect its own clergy and to preach and conduct the service in its own language. at leskoviki and premeti folk were particularly urgent both for schools and church. not only among the christians, but among the moslems too, there was a marked sense of nationality. a very large proportion of the moslems of the south were by no means, orthodox moslems, but were members of one of the dervish sects, the bektashi, and as such suspect by the powers, at constantinople. between the bektashi and the christians there appeared to be no friction. mosques were not very plentiful. i was assured by the kaimmakam of leskoviki that many of the moslem officials were bekiashifj and attended mosque only as a form without which they could not hold office. he was much puzzled about christianity and asked me to explain why the greeks and | bulgars, who were both christian, were always killing each other. "they say to europe," he said, "that they object to moslem rule. but they would certainly massacre each other if we went away. what good is this christianity to them?" i told him i could no more understand it than he did. the bulgarian rising had had a strong repercussion in albania. our relief work was everywhere believed to be a british government propaganda. other powers scattered money for their own purpose in turkish territory. why not great britain? it was a natural conclusion. moreover the bulgars themselves believed the help brought them was from england the power. and the name balkan committee even was misleading. in the near east a committee is a revolutionary committee, and consists of armed komitadjis. times innumerable have i assured balkan people of all races that the balkan committee did not run contraband rifles, but they have never believed it. the albanians everywhere asked me to assure lord lansdowne, then secretary for foreign affairs, that if he would only supply them with as much money and as many arms as he had given the bulgarians they would undertake to make a really successful rising. as for our albanian testaments, moslems as well as christians bought them; and the book of genesis, with the tale of potiphar's wife, sold like hot cakes. at berat, where there was a greek consul and a turkish kaimmakam, we were stopped by the police at the entrance of the town and all our albanian books were taken from us. but no objection was made to those in turkish and greek. it was the language and not the contents of the book that was forbidden. but there were plenty of nationalists in the town. it is noteworthy that though our errand was well known everywhere, and people hastened to tell "the englishwoman" albania's hopes and fears, not once did any one come to tell me that albania wanted to be joined to greece. it was always "give us our own schools," "free us from the greek priest." at elbasan we found a bale of publications awaiting us, sent from monastir in anticipation of what would happen at berat. here there was a charming old albanian mutasarrif, who did all he could to make my visit pleasant and begged me to send many english visitors. he had been governor of tripoli (now taken by italy), and told me that on returning home to albania after very many years' foreign service he was horrified to find his native land worse used than any other part of the turkish empire with which he was acquainted. he was hot on the school question, and declared his intention of having albanian taught. as for our books we might sell as many as we pleased, the more the better. the little boys of the moslem school flocked to buy them, and we sold, too, to several albanians who wore the uniform of turkish officers. the albanian periodical, published in london by faik bey, was known here. a definite effort was being made at elbasan to break with the greek church. an albanian priest had visited rome, and there asked leave to establish at elbasan a uniate church. he was the son of a rich man, and having obtained the assent of rome returned with the intention of building the church himself, and had even bought a piece of land for it. but leave to erect a church had to be first obtained from the turkish government. this he was hoping to receive soon. the turkish government, aware that this was part of the nationalist movement, never granted the permit, though characteristically it kept the question open for a long while. the mountains of spata near elbasan are inhabited by a mountain folk in many ways resembling the maltsors of the north, who preserved a sort of semi-independence. they were classed by the christians as crypto-christians. i saw neither church nor mosque in the district i visited. as for religion, each had two names. to a moslem enquirer he said he was suliman; to a christian that he was constantino. when called on to pay tax, as christians in place of giving military service, the inhabitants declined on the grounds that they all had moslem names and had no church. when on the other hand they were summoned for military service they protested they were christians. and the turks mostly left them alone. but they were nationalists, and when the proposal for a uniate church was mooted, declared they would adhere to rome. the news of this having spread, upset the orthodox powers to such an extent that a russian vice-consul was sent hurriedly to the spot. the spata men, however, who were vague enough about religious doctrines, were very certain that they did not want anything russian, and the russian who had been instructed to buy them with gold if necessary had to depart in a hurry. it was a district scarcely ever visited by strangers, and my visit gave extraordinary delight. so through pekinj, kavaia, durazzo tirana and croia, the city of skenderbeg and the stronghold now of bektashism, i arrived at last at scutari, and was welcomed by mr. summa, himself a descendant of one of the mountain clans, formerly dragoman to the consulate, and now acting vice-consul. he was delighted about my journey, and told me he could pass me up into the mountains wherever i pleased. he explained to me that on my former visit, mr. prendergast being new to the country had consulted the austrian consulate as to the possibility of my travelling in the interior, and that the austrians who wished to keep foreigners out of the mountains, though they sent plenty of their own tourists there, had given him such an alarming account of the dangers as had caused him to tell me it was impossible. he arranged at once for me to visit mirdita. the abbot of the mirdites, premi dochl, was a man of remarkable capacity. exiled from albania as a young man for participation in the albanian league and inciting resistance to turkish rule and the decrees of the treaty of berlin, he had passed his years of exile in newfoundland and india as a priest, and had learned english and read much. he was the inventor of an excellent system of spelling albanian by which he got rid of all accents and fancy letters and used ordinary roman type. he had persuaded the austrian authorities to use it in their schools, and was enthusiastic about the books that he was having prepared. his schemes were wide and included the translation of many standard english books into albanian. and he had opened a small school hard by his church in the mountains. his talk was wise. he was perhaps the most far-seeing of the albanian nationalists. we stood on a height and looked over albania --range behind range like the stony waves of a great sea, sweeping towards the horizon intensely and marvellously blue, and fading finally into the sky in a pale mauve distance. he thrust out his hands towards it with pride and enthusiasm. it was a mistake, he said, now to work against turkey. the turk was no longer albania's worst foe. albania had suffered woefully from the turk. but albania was not dead. far from it. there was another, and a far worse foe --one that grew ever stronger, and that was the slav: russia with her fanatical church and her savage serb and bulgar cohorts ready to destroy albania and wipe out catholic and moslem alike. he waved his hand in the direction of ipek. "over yonder," he said, "is the land the serbs called old serbia. but it is a much older albania. now it is peopled with albanians, many of whom are the victims, or the children of the victims, of the berlin treaty: albanians, who had lived for generations on lands that that treaty handed over to the serbs and montenegrins, who drove them out to starve. hundreds perished on the mountains. look at dulcigno--a purely albanian town, threatened by the warships of the great powers, torn from us by force. how could we resist all europe? our people were treated by the invading serb and montenegrin with every kind of brutality. and the great gladstone looked on! now there is an outcry that the albanians of kosovo ill-treat the slavs. myself i regret it. but what can they do? what can you expect? they know very well that so long as ten serbs exist in a place russia will swear it is a wholly serb district. and they have sworn to avenge the loss of dulcigno. "the spirit of the nation is awake in both christian and moslem. people ask why should not we, like the bulgars and serbs, rule our own land? but first we must learn, and organize. we must have time. if another war took place now the slavs would overwhelm us. we must work our propaganda and teach europe that there are other people to be liberated besides bulgars and serbs. the turk is now our only bulwark against the slav invader. i say therefore that we must do nothing to weaken the turk till we are strong enough to stand alone and have european recognition. when the turkish empire breaks up, as break it must, we must not fall either into the hands of austria nor of the slavs." and to this policy, which time has shown to have been the wise one, he adhered steadily. he took no part in rising against the turk, but he worked hard by means of spread of education and information, to attain ultimately the freedom of his country. his death during the great war is a heavy loss to albania. i promised him then that i would do all that lay in my power to bring a knowledge of albania to the english, and that i would work for its freedom. he offered to pass me on to gusihje, djakova, or any other district i wished, and to do all in his power to aid my travels but i had already far exceeded my usual holiday, and appeals to me to return to england were urgent. i had to tear myself away from the wilderness and i was soon once more steaming up the lake of scutari to rijeka. chapter ten. murder will out i arrived in cetinje with a turkish trooper's saddle and a pair of saddle-bags that contained some flintlock pistols and some beautiful ostrich feathers given me by the mutasarrif of elbasan and not much else but rags. the news that i had come right through albania excited cetinje vastly. every english tourist who wanted to go to scutari was warned by the montenegrins that it was death to walk outside the town; that murders took place every day in the bazar; any absurd tale, in fact, to blacken the albanians. the montenegrins were not best pleased at my exploit, and full of curiosity. i patched my elbows, clipped the ragged edge of my best skirt, and was then told by vuko vuletitch that the marshal of the court was waiting below to speak with me. i descended and found the gentleman in full dress. it was a feast day. we greeted one another. "his royal highness the prince wishes to speak with you!" said he with much flourish. "he requests you will name an hour when it is convenient for you to come to the palace." it was the first time the prince had noticed me, i was highly amused, and replied: "i can come now if his royal highness pleases!" the marshal of the court eyed me doubtfully and hesitated. "i can wash my hands," said i firmly, "and that is all; i have no clothes but what i have on." my only other things were in the wash, and i had repaired myself so far as circumstances allowed. the marshal of the court returned with the message that his royal highness would receive me at once "as a soldier." i trotted obediently off with him. we arrived at the palace. it was a full-dress day, and the montenegrins never let slip an occasion for peacocking. the situation pleased me immensely. the marshal himself was in his very best white cloth coat and silken sash, gold waistcoat, and all in keeping. another glittering functionary received me and between the two i proceeded upstairs. at the top of the flight is a large full-length looking-glass, and for the first time for four months i "saw myself as others saw me." between the two towering glittering beings was a small, wiry, lean object, with flesh burnt copper-colour and garments that had never been anything to boast of, and were now long past their prime. i could have laughed aloud when i saw the prince in full-dress with rows of medals and orders across his wide chest, awaiting me. it is a popular superstition, fostered by newspapers in the pay of modistes, that in order to get on it is necessary to spend untold sums on dress. but in truth if people really want to get something out of you they do not care what you look like. nor will any costume in the world assist you if you have nothing to say. the prince conducted me to an inner room, greeted me politely, begged me to be seated and then launched into a torrent of questions about my previous years journey to ipek. he seemed to think that my life had not been worth a para, and that the rugova route was impossible. "do you know, mademoiselle, that what you did was excessively dangerous?" "sire," said i, "it was your montenegrins who made me do it." he made no reply to this, but lamented that for him such a tour was out of the question. and of all things he desired to see the patriarchia at ipek and the church of dechani and the relics of the sveti kralj. he had been told i had secured photographs of these places. if so, would i give him copies? i promised to send him prints from london. he thanked me, and there was a pause. i wondered if this was what i had been summoned for, and if i now ought to go. then nikita looked at me and suddenly began: "i think, mademoiselle, that you are acquainted with my son-in-law, king petar of serbia." dear me, thought i, this is delicate ground. "i have not that honour, sire," i said. now how far dare i go? i asked myself. let us proceed with caution. "i was in serbia, sire," i continued boldly, "during the lifetime of the--er--late king alexander." nikita looked at me. i looked at nikita. then he heaved a portentous sigh, a feat for which his huge chest specially fitted him. "a sad affair, was it not, mademoiselle?" he asked. and he sighed again. now or never, thought i, is the time for kite-flying. i gazed sadly at nikita; heaved as large a sigh as i was capable of, and said deliberately: "very sad, sire--but perhaps necessary!" the shot told. nikita brought his hand down with a resounding smack on his blue-knickerbockered thigh and cried aloud with the greatest excitement: "mon dieu, but you are right, mademoiselle! a thousand times right! it was necessary, and it is you alone that understand. return, i beg you, to england. explain it to your foreign office--to your politicians--to your diplomatists!" his enthusiasm was boundless and torrential. all would now be well, he assured me. serbia had been saved. if i would go to belgrade all kinds of facilities would be afforded me. i was struck dumb by my own success. a reigning sovereign had given himself away with amazing completeness. i had but dangled the fly and the salmon had gorged it. such a big fish, too. nikita, filled with hopes that the result of this interview would be the resumption